OOOOOO OK so UH this chapter is one that I've be VERY excited to write ever since starting Keys (I've been saying that a lot lately, huh?) because well OUR BOY IS FINALLY IN THE ORGANIZATION and that's really what any good Soranort fic is all about, isn't it? So I really won't keep you long here aside from uh... well there are some very bad and very dark things that happen in this chapter and if you aren't good with blood and body horror and death and such then please tread carefully. So with out of the way, let's get started!
Chapter 65: The Thirteenth Vessel
I want you for a lifetime
So if you're gonna think twice
I don't wanna know, baby, I don't wanna know
XIII
It starts to rain the second Sora steps foot in the World that Never Was.
The neon-lit city is already dreary enough on its own, but the increasing drum of quiet raindrops only casts it even further into gloomy loneliness. That same loneliness covers Sora like a shroud even though he's surrounded by his superiors on all sides as they escort him toward the castle looming menacingly over it all. As they take him to his new and likely final home.
He only briefly glances up at that castle as they cross the bridge of solid darkness that leads to it. The impulsive thought briefly crosses his mind to throw himself off that bridge before he can pass through its daunting doors, but he already knows his master won't allow it. There's no escaping this now, not when he's finally here, not when he's finally accepted his place, his role, his fate… and everything that's going to come along with it.
If not for the awful circumstances that brought him here, Sora might have laughed at the cruel twist of irony of it all as he follows his superiors through the castle gates. The first time he came here, he arrived as a conquering hero, with plenty of friends by his side and a noble ambition guiding his path. And now, only a little over a year later, he's returned as a slave, with nobody but the very same Organization he'd once opposed here to welcome him, with nothing but the clothes on his back and the grief still hanging so heavy on his heart.
His superiors initially say nothing to him as they pass through the grand foyer. In all honesty, Sora isn't quite sure what he should be expecting from any of them now that he's officially joined their side. Part of him anticipates the same kind of cruelty and abuse they continually put him through when he still had it in him to rebel against them. But as Ansem and Xemnas suddenly depart without a single word to head deeper into the castle, his master turns to face him with a calm, cordial smile.
"Welcome to your true home, my thirteenth," Young Xehanort begins. Sora feels a small tug on his heart that forces him to glance up at his master, finally ripping his gaze away from the ground, where it's largely been focused ever since they left the graveyard. "After your previous visit here, I trust you already know your way around, so I'll spare you a tour. But as I show you to your room, I do have a few ground rules for you to keep in mind during your time with us."
Sora swallows hard, his focus forced to stay on his master as he begins leading the way through the castle's eerily empty halls. Whatever 'rules' his Organization wants him to follow aren't bound to bode well for him, and by all accounts, that hunch is proven correct when his master starts to list them off.
"As Number Thirteen, you are ranked the lowest among your fellow members; which means you are to obey any order they give to you, lest those orders contradict my own." Young Xehanort doesn't even glance back at him, his voice stern and cold. Almost as if he's speaking to someone who hasn't just lost everything, to someone whose life hasn't been ripped apart at the seams. "You are not to speak unless spoken to by another member, you are not to call upon your Keyblade or intentionally use your magic unless permitted. Under no circumstances shall you leave this castle unless accompanied by at least one of your masters or your superiors. And finally, when you are summoned by either myself or my elder self, you are to attend immediately, without hesitation or complaint. Do you understand what is expected of you, my thirteenth?"
With essentially no option to refuse or protest, Sora nods, already dreading the sorry life of ceaseless servitude that awaits him. Yet even that reply isn't enough to satisfy his unsympathetic master. "I said," Young Xehanort finally glares over his shoulder at his final vessel. "Do you understand, Sora?"
"Y-yes," Sora finally speaks, his first word since… since. His throat is still raw from how much he'd screamed in the graveyard, coming out small and quiet and broken. Just like everything else about him is right now.
"Good," Young Xehanort says simply as he guides his vessel up yet another flight of stairs. It isn't too long after that they finally stop at a door at the far end of a long hallway lined with several others. Sora isn't familiar with this part of the castle, but he can only assume this is the Organization's residential quarters, something he never really got to see the last time he was here. Not that he ever really wanted to. "Here we are," Young Xehanort stands by, gesturing for Sora to enter. "I'm sure you'll appreciate the chambers we have prepared for you, Sora. After all, they used to belong to our previous thirteenth member before you."
Sora tenses when he hears this, his hand freezing on the doorknob. His heart wavers under a pang of sorrow at even this indirect mention of Roxas, at the thought of just one of so many beloved friends he's now lost forever. That sorrow rings even louder when his master silently commands him to venture inside, into a rather small, yet pristinely clean bedroom that he can so easily imagine Roxas inhabiting back during his Organization days. There's an uncanny erriness to it as Sora takes it all in, as if he can feel the ghost of his Nobody still lingering here in a place he used to be. Or maybe that's just the ghosts of all of his fallen friends, still weaving their way in between the gaping holes each of their deaths has left in his heart.
He doesn't want to be here. He'd much rather have literally any other room in the castle than this. His master can certainly hear that unspoken plea as Sora turns to face him, but his apathetic expression alone is enough to tell him he definitely doesn't care. "You can take all the time you'd like to settle in later," Young Xehanort says pointedly, still standing in the doorway. "Your induction ceremony is set to begin shortly, and you mustn't be late for it." Confusion permeates Sora's despondency at this, and, upon easily reading his thoughts yet again, his master is quick to explain. "It's meant for you to properly accept your place among your Organization. A rite of passage, of sorts, that each of your fellow members have been through before you. Believe me when I say that they're all immensely looking forward to working with you, Sora."
Sora bites back the urge to scoff at this, knowing that his fellow members would just as rather kill him if any of them were actually allowed to. He can only anticipate their already awful treatment of him will worsen as a result, treatment he has no choice to put up with for every single day of the rest of his life. Just as he has no choice but to put up with how his master wants him to look for the rest of his life too.
"You have one hour to prepare before I return to collect you for the ceremony," Young Xehanort says coolly. "I expect to find you thoroughly cleansed from the state you're currently in. And of course, I expect you to match your fellow members when you stand before them."
The master holds his hands out as a bundle of black fabric materializes over them. Sora takes in a small, sharp breath when he sees it, what he'd once turned down before, what he has no choice but to finally envelop himself in completely. By all accounts, it's the final piece to complete his hideous appearance, meant to show exactly what side he stands on now. The side of darkness, the side of his master, the side of Organization XIII.
Sora says nothing as he takes the coat, staring down at it in muted despair. Of course, Young Xehanort only serves to rub salt in the wound with what he has to say next. "Wear it with pride, my thirteenth. For from this day on, all who see you will know who you belong to and what great role you are destined to play. A role you can't run from, not anymore."
A role that, by all means, Sora can't even fathom because he has no idea what that role actually is. It's frustrating, really, to finally be here and not even know why, to not know why everything he used to have has been stolen from him, to not know why his life has been so brutally, irreparably destroyed in the first place. But before he can even prepare to voice the question that's been weighing so heavily on his mind since the start, his master silences such curiosity when he speaks up once more.
"Remember, Sora," Young Xehanort instructs as he turns to leave. "We look forward, not back. Which means that everything from the life you knew before must be cast off for you to step into our ranks. Everything. You're one of us now, my thirteenth. Never forget that."
"...I won't, master…" Sora says, his voice barely above a miserable whisper. He doesn't look up as his master finally leaves him alone in a room he'd still rather have nothing to do with, in a castle he can scarcely believe he's standing in. In a life he'd never dreamed he'd be living, a life that's become the cruel and crushing reality he's now stuck in in every possible way.
Still, he does as he's been told, surrounded by deafening silence only occasionally broken by the tiny noises his movements make. He slowly removes his mud-soaked clothing, finding a small restroom attached to his quarters. They're anything but luxurious, but after months of having nothing at all, he can't help but be a bit surprised how relatively decent it all is. He'd been expecting to be cast into a dungeon here, not to have the same sort of accommodations the rest of his Organization likely has. He turns the shower up as hot as it will go, just as he did during his first night with the Radcliffes. Only this time, it's less for the sake of washing off the filth caking his skin and hair and more to try and return some semblance of feeling back to his largely numb body. It accomplishes nothing other than cleaning him though as he emerges, his bones still ringing with that same sort of raw ache that continuously pours out across every inch of his body from his grieving heart. A constant pain, both inside and out, that he knows won't be going anywhere any time soon, not as long as he still has so much to mourn, not as long as his heart still beats even though those of his friends' no longer do.
His hands tremble as he unfolds the black coat. He doesn't know why he's so afraid of it–it's just a simple swath of fabric after all. But for everything it represents, everything it will mark him as the moment he puts it on… he can't help but be terrified by it. His gaze drifts back over to his old clothes, still lying in a dirty, disheveled heap on the floor. He's been through much in them, from the innocent excitement of his early Keys-hunting days, to his arduous time on the run, to his final few hours alongside the lights. To abandon them now seems so wrong… but as he feels a distant spike of pain ripple through his heart, he knows he has no choice. This is what his master wants; and whatever his master wants, unfortunately Sora must give him.
He clads himself in the accompanying undergarments first, a simple black ensemble meant to blend well underneath the coat. The boots follow, surprisingly fitting his now strangely-shaped feet well. But what bewilders him even further is just how well the coat itself fits. It's as if his master took his thin, malnourished frame into account when crafting it, to the point that Sora is more than a bit unnerved when he zips it up to find just how strangely natural it feels on his body. In fact, the only part of the outfit that isn't a perfect fit are the gloves. He doesn't even consider his claws until he slips one of them on, only for the sharp tips of his fingers to tear straight through. He gasps in alarm, initially expecting his master to barge in and punish him for damaging his new uniform so soon. And yet… nothing happens. The room remains quiet as Sora slowly puts the other glove on, trying to be careful, though in the end, he meets the same results. He doesn't know how to fix them, and doesn't really care enough to, so he leaves them on as they are, his crimson claws peeking out from beyond the black fabric concealing the rest of his hands from sight.
There's a mirror in the corner of the room, and though the last thing Sora wants to see is himself, he finds himself slowly approaching it anyway. The being that stares back at him leaves him in shock, especially as he realizes he's staring at himself. Because here he stands, with snow-white hair, tired amber eyes, long, pointed ears, gangly black antenne, blood red claws, and of course, a pitch black coat to tie it all together. To lock him into place as his master's final vessel, to show everyone in every world that he's now an undeniable member of Organization XIII.
And yet…
His hand drifts toward his neck, to what he'd slipped on as soon as he got out of the shower by sheer habit alone. The crown-shaped charm on his necklace shines dully in the colorless light of the room, its metal surface cold as he gently skims his claws over it. His master had told him to remove everything that stood as a symbol of his old life, and certainly, that must include something like this. Tears find their way back to Sora's eyes as he lightly grips the chains tethering it to his neck, his heart swelling with grief as he realizes what he has to do. But just before he can remove it, he happens to recall the first time he ever saw this necklace. A memory he can't let go of, no matter how much his master might want him to.
"Happy birthday, kiddo," his father had said with a wavering smile when he gave him the charm on the day he turned eight. "I know this isn't much, but… I hope you still like it all the same."
"...I still do, Papa…" Sora whispers as he holds the charm close. "I still do…"
His father… the very first person he'd ever lost, the first of so very many, it seems. All ripped away from him far too early, far too soon. It seems he never gets to hold onto anything he loves: not his father, not his friends, not even his own freedom. But maybe he can still hold onto something even now. It isn't much–in fact, in the grand scheme of things, he knows it doesn't mean anything at all. But if this is the last act of rebellion he'll ever be able to make against his master… then it's more than enough for him.
So he leaves the necklace on, tucking its charm and chain out of sight under the hood of his coat. He leaves it on, and in doing so, lets himself keep one last tie to the life he loved, the life that died along with so many of his friends.
True to his word, Young Xehanort returns exactly one hour later. Sora greets his master with a small nod of forced respect, keeping his composure, lest he discover the secret lurking just under his coat. He tries not to think about it, knowing his master can read his thoughts like an open book. And by some miracle, he seems to succeed as Young Xehanort doesn't even bring it up at all as he circles his newest vessel to 'inspect' him.
"Hm," the master hums in what Sora guesses is approval. "It suits you, my thirteenth. I believe you will settle nicely into your new life here, and into the place I have planned for you. You've experienced such a grave loss, but something good can still come of this. You've spent so long lost in the light… but now, you've finally found your place here within the darkness. You've found a family that completes you every bit as much as you completes us. You've found your way home, Sora. And now that you're here, you needn't ever wander or worry again."
Sora doesn't even notice the tear slipping down his cheek until Young Xehanort reaches in to wipe it away. His master's smile is almost warm, almost kind… almost genuine. But there's something just beneath the surface of that smile that keeps him scared, something that ensures he knows who's really in charge here. His master doesn't care for him in the slightest, he knows he doesn't. But in the absence of anyone who actually does… he can't help but wish…
"Are you ready, my thirteenth?" Young Xehanort interrupts his wistful thinking as he turns to the door.
"F-for what?" Sora asks, his voice still inhibited, his throat burning at even the smallest of sounds.
"For a fresh start," Young Xehanort holds that smile, so deceptive, so comforting, so dishonest. "For a new beginning. For everything you've always been meant to do and everything you've always been meant to be."
He knows this isn't a request, despite how his master phrases it. It's an order, everything from here on out will be. And like with every order his master gives him, all Sora can do is follow as he's led down the halls of his new home. As he's led away from the ruins of a life that's been destroyed… and toward the start of a new one that's only about to begin. A life he doesn't want… but will never be able to escape from any more than he can from this coat, from this castle, from this Organization… and from the master who brought him here in the first place.
"Greetings, my loyal seekers of darkness," Master Xehanort begins from atop the highest throne in the Round Room. All of the other seats save for one are full, the Organization gathered for a meeting just about all of them have been expecting for quite some time. A meeting that, after months of waiting and anticipating, has finally arrived. "I have called you all here for a most momentous occasion. I am exceedingly pleased to report that our outing to the Keyblade Graveyard this morning was an overwhelming success. Not only have the guardians of light fallen to our power, but we have a new member to induct into our ranks. Our final member, to be exact, needed to make our Organization whole."
Many of the observing members eagerly lean forward in their seats, smiling in smug satisfaction as they watch their newest addition step onto the central platform. On his younger master's instructions, his hood is up, concealing his face in shadow as he silently comes to stand in the center of them all. As he realizes, now more than ever before, that he's essentially entered the lion's den. And despite their claims that he's now 'one of them', he knows that not a single one of them will actually see him as another lion, as an equal, as anything other than the lowly slave he's been brought here to be.
"I am immensely proud to present our long-awaited last vessel," he hears his master say. He doesn't look up to see the broad, triumphant grin that's bound to be resting on his face. He doesn't look up until he knows he'll have to, until the hood masking his face can no longer hide away all of the hate within his head. "Number thirteen… Sora."
At this, Sora feels the unspoken command wash over him, forcing his hands to move without his input. They reach up to the sides of his hood, and though he hesitates, he's still forced to pull it down to reveal his face to his fellow members. He hears soft snickers from a few of them sitting behind him, though he doesn't know whether they're over his current appearance or the fact that he's finally here, that he's finally fallen, that he's finally agreed to join them.
That he's finally everything he's always hated.
"Long have we waited for you to stand here among us, my thirteenth." His gaze is drawn directly up to his master at this. Xehanort beams down at him, his golden eyes practically glowing with twisted pride over the prize he's finally won. "And today, here you stand, ready to take your place within your Organization, to play the part destiny has in store for you. You are ours, Sora…"
"And we are yours…" Every last member of the Organization echoes in perfect unison. Their combined voices send chills down Sora's spine as he recalls hearing this very same claim at the start of his journey. It's a notion he didn't understand then, and he still doesn't even now. He knows none of them care about him, none of them even seem to like him in the slightest, not even his master. So what exactly are they trying to offer him here, what are they trying to say? Why bother welcoming him when each of them knows he doesn't even want to be here in the first place?
In lieu of his lack of a response to the 'kindness' of his fellow members, his master forces him to show gratitude for it all the same. Control is abruptly stripped from him as he involuntarily lowers himself to one knee, his head lowered in respect he'd never give on his own accord. His face burns hot as he realizes what's happening here, as he realizes the humiliation his master is putting him through. As he bows before that master and his Organization as a whole, as he pledges his loyalty, his allegiance, his very life itself, to them and them alone.
And from his seat so high above, his master smiles down upon him.
"I believe that the long-awaited completion of our Organization is a cause well worth celebrating," Xehanort finally turns his attention to the rest of his followers. Sora finds himself capable of standing again, though he's hardly comforted when he hears what his master has to say next. "I would like to announce that there shall be a feast tonight and that each of you are invited to attend." The way he says 'invited' is more than enough to inform Sora that no, none of them are 'invited', they're all required to go. Including him, as much as he desperately doesn't feel like celebrating anything anymore. "Preparations have already been made in the grand ballroom; make your way there for an evening of food and drink and revelry as we honor our greatest victory… and our newest member."
A ripple of cheers and applause spreads through the circle of seats, with more than a few of the members looking genuinely excited about the prospect of a party. Sora guesses that such festivities, or any kind of fun at all really, must be in short supply in the Organization. Which is why almost no one wastes any time using various dark corridors to head down to the announced feast. Of course, to keep him from skipping the party as he'd much rather prefer to do, Sora finds himself escorted to it by both of his superiors. Neither Ansem nor Xemnas say much to him on the way down, other than ordering him to be "on his best behavior", as if he actually has any sort of say on how he acts around his fellow members.
Much like the rest of the castle, the grand ballroom is elegant, yet ultimately drab, bereft of any kind of color or decor that one would expect at a normal party. But Sora is quickly reminded this party is anything but normal as he looks over its attendees, all clad in the same black coats, all celebrating the deaths of six completely innocent people, all hailing the initiation of their final wayward member and just how much they'd had to break his heart to get him here.
Sora expects to be turned loose to "enjoy" the party freely, but instead, Ansem and Xemnas continue guiding him toward the front of the hall. There, his master sits in a comfortable throne of sorts upon a short dias, observing the festivities from above with a haughty smirk. That smirk grows a touch wider, however, when he notices his newest vessel approaching.
"Hello, Sora," Xehanort greets him, and the sound of his voice alone is enough to compel Sora to partially bow to him yet again. All the while, his heart is racing with that all too familiar kind of terror reserved specifically for when he's in the presence of his elder master. For when he's cornered and trapped with no way out in sight. "Come, child," Xehanort beckons him forward. Sora doesn't even notice when Xemnas and Ansem step away, leaving him largely alone with his master. Alone with the man who took everything he ever had. "This feast is for you; you deserve to have the seat of honor by your master's side."
Sora doesn't want that honor, he doesn't want this party, he certainly doesn't want to take a seat in the much simpler chair sitting beside his master's throne. But of course, what he wants doesn't matter to anyone here, it never has and it never will. After all, what he wants barely even matters to himself anymore either now that everything he ever used to dream of has been so thoroughly destroyed.
So Sora sits beside his master, his hands folded neatly into his lap as he keeps his focus there. He can hear the buzz of the party, conversation and laughter amongst the members as they enjoy the admittedly impressive spread of food laid out for them. Sora eyes that spread briefly, only now realizing that he's yet to eat anything all day. With his stomach still tied up in equal fear and despair, he's surprised he's even hungry at all. And he's even more surprised when his master speaks to that hunger.
"You may eat after all of your fellow members have had their fill, my thirteenth," Xehanort takes a sip of his champagne, just one of the many kinds of alcoholic beverages available at this party. Sora can't help but find himself strangely envious of the adult members of the Organization for getting to take part in that. He's never drank before–he's much too young to even try–but he doesn't doubt that even a few drinks would be enough to dull the anguish he's been drowning in all day. "And no," Xehanort continues right on cue as he continues reading his vessel's thoughts. "You may not have anything to drink. Your heart and mind must remain pure and focused for the purpose I have planned for you, unhampered by such wasteful intoxication."
Hypocrite… Sora dares to think as he shoots a glare at his master's champagne glass. Xehanort glares right back at him, a sudden spark of pain accosting Sora's heart along with it. He isn't allowed to even flinch or to cry out, instead left to suffer in silence as his gaze is forced to fall away from his displeased master.
Once that pain passes, Sora finally allows himself to look up and take proper stock of the party itself. Xemnas, Ansem, and Young Xehanort sit together at a table close to the front, none of them particularly talking much, though Sora can't help but tense up every time any of their sights settle on him. The other members blissfully ignore him though as they eat and drink merrily, some clearly enjoying themselves far more than others. Among those who are already drunk, or at least a bit buzzed, Demyx is the most noisy as he loudly strums dissonant chords on his sitar between sips of beer. His messy melodies are soon cut short when Larxene passes by, downing another glass of whisky shortly before she uses one of her knives to slice the strings of his instrument clean through when he's not looking. Sora almost laughs, especially when Demyx falls out of his chair while protesting, but the second he catches sight of his master judgmentally staring at him from the corner of his eye, he leaves all notions of levity behind.
Xigbar, Vexen, and Luxord play cards in a corner of the room, each of them doubling down on shots between glasses of vodka, gin, and rum whenever any of them loses a hand. With Luxord's mastery over just about all games of chance, Xigbar and Vexen wind up drunk far quicker than he does. Of the members who seem to be more composed, Marluxia drinks a moderate martini as he keeps an eye on Larxene when she becomes increasingly inebriated–and increasingly violent to anyone who crosses her path. Saïx stands strangely alone, an untouched glass of wine in his hand as he stares out the window to the still pouring rain outside. The only other member present who doesn't seem to be permitted to drink is the other Riku, understandable, given that he seems to be even younger than Sora is. He can barely stand to look at the boy for how much he reminds him of what he's lost, to the point that he forces himself to look away the second the other Riku so much as glances over in his direction. Figures that his master would recruit some bizarre copy of the boy he loved so dearly; anything to torture him in any way they can.
An hour passes before his master says anything else to him, but for Sora, it might as well be an eternity. Thankfully, what his master does have to tell him is one of the two things he's been waiting to hear since this feast began. "It seems the others have finished," he nods over to the food table. "You have my permission to eat to your heart's content, my thirteenth."
His permission, as if eating is a privilege Sora has somehow earned and not something he needs to do to survive. Still, he rises from his seat slowly, briefly bowing to his master again as he mutters a show of gratitude that's only somewhat insincere. "Thank you, master."
Xehanort simply nods, that aggravating, constant smirk still resting on his aged features. Sora can feel his master's gaze lingering on him as he makes his way over to the buffet, watching his every move, likely waiting for him to slip up somehow. But after the day he's had, Sora refuses to give him the satisfaction of humiliating him any further than he already has. He keeps his head level, his pace even, his expression a neutral mask as he goes to retrieve his dinner. Only for that calm to quickly be shattered when he sees there's no dinner left to speak of.
Though there was quite a bit of food when he first arrived, now that he's actually able to get some for himself, it seems as though his fellow members have picked the table clean. There's hardly even a few crumbs or bones left to scavenge from, nothing that will serve to satisfy in the slightest. Sora doesn't hold back a disappointed, disgruntled sigh as he's forced to trudge back over to his master empty-handed, only to all but lose his appetite when he sees the almost amused grin Xehanort is sending him.
"Is there a problem, my boy?" he asks, already knowing the answer.
"Um… there's… nothing left…" Sora mutters as he takes his seat once more.
"What was that?" Xehanort raises a critical eyebrow. "Speak up, child. Your warbling whispers are undignified and immature for a boy your age. No doubt a bothersome habit you picked up during your time within the light, one of many I suppose I have no choice but to break you of."
Sora blinks, absolutely lost. He didn't think manners or the like would matter to a man as ruthless and cruel as Xehanort, but clearly, they do; just another thing to make him walk on eggshells when it comes to interacting with his master. "I… uh… there's no food left," he repeats louder, straightening up in his seat a bit.
"There isn't any food left," Xehanort corrects his grammar as he glances over at the table. "Hm. So there isn't. My apologies, Sora. It seems I underestimated just how peckish your fellow members would be. They've failed to remember that their newest peer must remain healthy and well so long as you are in our care."
"...So… there isn't any more?" Sora asks, despite every ounce of his better judgment begging him not to. But his empty stomach, so desperate to not starve again, forces the question out of him before he can think better of it.
"You've already answered your own question, my thirteenth," Xehanort remarks dryly. "Your thoughts linger so often on food. It's pitiful really, like so many things about you are, my boy. You don't even realize just how lucky you are to finally be here under my protection, to know that I am the one who will sustain you, who will make sure that you not only survive, but thrive."
By now, Sora's largely tuned him out. He should have guessed that his master would turn something as simple and mundane as an empty table into some kind of teaching moment. His attention is quickly drawn back into the conversation in full again, though, when he hears this: "But if food truly is so important to you, then I shall make sure you will no longer have to compete with your fellow members to get it. Beginning tomorrow morning, you will take each breakfast with my younger self. And each evening, you will dine with me. Is that enough to appease you, my thirteenth?"
No is the thought that rings so immediately, so strongly inside of Sora's head that he nearly manages to speak it out loud. But of course, the tight pall of pain suppressing his heart is what forces him to agree to something so utterly unthinkable. To agree to spending something akin to "quality time" with the very person he hates most. "Y-yes, it is," he nods compliantly. Involuntary. "It will… be an honor to eat by your side, master."
"If it's such an honor to you, then you ought to act like it is," Xehanort counters, throwing Sora through a loop as to where this might be going next. "You've looked so dismal since you've arrived, my boy. This evening is meant to celebrate you above all else; so show your Organization–and your master–just how grateful you are for the warm welcome we've extended to you. You are not to shed another tear tonight, Sora. Forget about the past, about your loss, about your grief… Forget about the lights and whatever time you spent among them… and smile. Smile, for here within the darkness, a better life awaits you…"
On that simple command alone, Sora feels the corners of his mouth lift, a wide, almost delighted smile filling his features. He tries to resist it, tries not to let his sorrow be shoved so quickly under the surface, but in the end, it's replaced with a mask of false happiness all the same. Happiness he knows he'll never truly feel within these walls, happiness he'll never know without the love he lost on the battlefield only a few hours prior.
"My Organization!" Xehanort suddenly stands, raising his glass. Whatever members who are still sober enough to lift their drinks follow suit, drawing their mutual attention toward the front, and toward the ridiculous grin still plastered all over Sora's face. "I propose a toast; to each of you and your endeavors in bringing our cause closer to completion. To our triumph over the light and the long-awaited end of the lies they have so callously spread across the worlds. To the thirteen Keys and to the power of Kingdom Hearts, which shall so very soon belong to us! And last but not least… to our thirteenth… to Sora…" His master turns back to face him, and all the while, Sora smiles at him, his head screaming hatred at him that he'll never be able to speak, hatred that no one else will ever be able to know. Hatred that means nothing to the man he now has to serve for the rest of his life.
"At long last, the final piece is in place," Xehanort quietly finishes his toast, allowing his followers to drink to their twisted triumph. "At last, we have the one who will open the door…"
The party continues on for several more hours after that. And across each of those hours, Sora has to maintain the smile his master forced upon him. It never wavers, even as his face burns from the strain, even as he watches in disgust as his fellow members grow drunker and dumber at his expense. Even as he remains solely by his master's side. Even as it continues to settle in more and more that this is his life now, that this is all his life will ever be.
When Xehanort finally dismisses him in the early hours of the morning, Sora only barely manages to find his way back to his room on his own. Only then is his smile finally allowed to fall, a heavy sob bursting out of him as he all but collapses onto his bed. His voice hitches into an anguished, miserable cry, dark spikes shooting up all throughout his tiny room as he curls into a tight ball and finally lets himself mourn. He cries for the lights as their demise flashes through his head once more. He cries for Riku and Kairi as he all but relieves the awful seconds they were forever stolen away from him. He cries for the worlds, for everyone within them, none of whom know their time is running short, that their lives will all soon end. He cries for his mother, who's probably already realized by now that he left, that he's never coming back. He cries for his father as he grips the crown charm tight. He cries for everything and everyone, it seems… except for himself. Because really, how can he mourn for someone who already died such a long time ago? How can he mourn someone who will only continue to die more and more every day?
He cries until his own tears lull him into an empty, unrestful sleep. And when he awakens the next morning… he's still here. Still in the castle, still in the Organization. Still stuck in a nightmare he knows will never end.
XII
His first full day is about as abysmal as he could have expected.
It begins with breakfast with his younger master. He's forced to report to one of the castle's more private dining rooms at a miserably early hour, still half asleep when Young Xehanort cordially welcomes him. He's quite surprised to find that his master actually intends on feeding him, even more surprised that the food he's had prepared for their meal isn't just good, it's delicious, on par with the kind of breakfasts his mother used to make for him. Even better yet, his master lets him eat as much as he'd like, from eggs to bacon to pancakes to even perhaps the most perfect hot chocolate he's ever had. The only thing he doesn't like about this breakfast is, of course, who he's forced to share it with.
Their conversation is largely one-sided and dull, but fortunately brief. Young Xehanort apparently has other matters to attend to, so he dismisses Sora within only an hour. From there, he's been left to his own devices for most of the day, with no real duties or responsibilities to attend to. Not wanting to explore at the risk of running into any of his fellow members, he retreats to his room and stays there, dejected and despondent, sending countless unspoken apologies to so very many who will never get to hear them. His hours of grieving are only interrupted, however, when he senses his elder master summoning him for what he can only assume will be dinner.
And indeed, that dinner is a bizarre affair. His meal is much less lavish compared to the fine gourmet plate his master has, probably another way of demonstrating the vast gap of power between them. But even so, Xehanort still seems to be in the same strangely good mood he'd been in the previous night; not surprising, given that he's finally won the prize he's been after all this time. A prize who sits before him in silent, suppressed fear of a man who can see straight through his mind and heart, the man who holds unquestionable, unending power over every part of them both.
He's sent to bed after dinner, forced to sleep by his master's command even though he's not even tired. Every night he's forced to sleep, just as he's forced to eat at every meal, even when he has no appetite, even when he'd just as rather starve simply to spite both his masters. He's forced to follow their schedule, forced to do as they say as soon as they say it, forced to rarely be seen, even more rarely heard. He's forced to live, even though every single day, he'd so much rather die.
Within a week it becomes a numbing cycle of empty days and empty nights. He dines with his masters dutifully, but the hours between those meals, he's mostly left alone to suffer in silent sorrow. Until the day his elder master commands him to stop wasting his days away within his room. Until he's ordered to actually interact with his fellow members, with the people he despises almost as much as his master himself.
That hatred is more than mutual, and of course, his fellow members have no problems showing it. Some jeer at him whenever he walks by, calling him a "freak", a "monster", a "failure", alongside any other number of unsavory names. Some simply shoot him dirty looks, while others go as far as roughly shoving him aside when they see him. Of course, he can't say or do a single thing to defend himself; each and every one of them ranks higher than he does, under his master's orders, he's obligated to obey them. Obligated to be their compliant little punching bag, obligated to let them ostracize and abuse him every chance they get.
But he can take it. After everything he's been through, a bit of malicious mocking and a few painful jabs here and there are nothing. None of it really hurts him in any way that matters, nothing leaves behind any lasting scars. Except…
Except what the member just above him tries to do to him only a few short days after he arrives.
For Sora's part, he desperately tries to avoid the other Riku altogether. He doesn't want to see him, doesn't want to hear his voice, doesn't want to even acknowledge the fraud pretending to be one of the halves of his heart he'll never get back. But for as much as he tries to ignore him, the younger boy seems to be transfixed on him. Whenever they're in the same vicinity as each other, Sora can always feel the other Riku's golden gaze upon him, watching him every bit as intently as his master often does. It makes Sora uncomfortable at the very least, downright anxious at most. But he does find some small solace in the fact that the other Riku hasn't spoken a single word to him since his initiation.
If only that longstanding silence could remain unbroken.
He's on his way back to his room from dinner with his master one night when it happens. As he heads down an otherwise empty hall, he soon finds himself crossing paths with the other Riku as he rounds a corner. Sora keeps his head down, not even shifting his gaze over to the boy, not saying a single word. He almost thinks he's in the clear after they pass each other by, but then…
"Sora, wait." The mere sound of his voice alone sends shockwaves of so many different emotions through Sora: sadness, anger, longing, dread. But none of those emotions keep him from stopping dead in his tracks, his back still turned to the other Riku as waits to hear whatever he has to say next.
The other Riku stays silent for far too long. Sora doesn't dare turn to face him, his heart pounding with grief and worry over whatever it is he might be planning. But whatever that plan is, Sora's still left in the dark about it when the other Riku issues another command. "Come with me."
He doesn't want to. But he does anyway. He turns, following as much of a distance behind the other Riku as he's allowed to. Thankfully, he's not expected to speak, nor does the other Riku even steal a glance back at him as he guides him down a hall Sora doesn't recognize. At the end of that hall, a door awaits leading to one of the castle's many balconies, and Sora can't deny he's more than a little confused when the other Riku brings them both out onto it. It's still raining–it hasn't stopped since the day Sora arrived. Not that this barely existent, mostly lifeless world would be made any better if it wasn't.
They stop on the edge of the balcony, both of them immediately drenched in the downpour. Sora keeps his sights set on the ground, all the while wishing he were anywhere else, with anyone else but him. But he approaches him all the same, his footsteps splashing as he walks closer. Sora draws in a breath he forgets to let out when the other Riku finally reaches him, when he slips a gloved hand against his cheek and slowly guides his gaze upward.
The other Riku's expression is surprisingly earnest, solemn almost as he studies his face. Given that he's a bit younger than Sora, they stand at almost the same height, though even still, he manages to come up short despite having a year or so advantage over him. Everything else about him though… it all rings so achingly familiar, from his silver hair, to the shape of his eyes, however discolored they might be, to the way his intense gaze pierces him so easily. The other Riku holds his hand against his cheek, and Sora knows he's not allowed to move away from him, isn't allowed to say a word. In fact, all he can do right now is stand there, soaking wet and shaking, as the other Riku's quiet voice rattles him to his very core.
"I can't believe it…" he whispers with the faintest hint of a smile. He takes one of his hands, his fond smile growing a bit as he lightly runs his thumb over Sora's exposed knuckles. "Even like this, you're still so… so…"
He trails off as he leans in closer. Sora stiffens, flinching as he starts to realize what his intent might be. But no matter how much he might hate that intent, he can't do anything about it after what the higher-ranking member has to say next. "Close your eyes…" he urges gently, and Sora does exactly that. "I promise… you won't even notice the difference…"
Sora wrenches his eyes closed even tighter, his hands curled into trembling fists at his sides. He has no choice but to stand there and let this happen, to let the love he still holds so strongly for someone so recently lost be desecrated so completely. He draws in a sharp, tearful breath as he awaits the inevitable, knowing he will notice the difference, he always will every time, he'll always know it isn't him. It'll never be him because Riku, the real Riku is dead, he's dead, he's gone, he'll never see him again, never see his smile, hear his voice, feel his touch, never be with him in any way other than the cheap imitation standing before him, this sorry shadow of everything he's loved, everything he's lost, and-
A clash of thunder suddenly booms across the sky. Stark silence follows and he hears the other boy draw in an unsteady breath.
Their lips never meet.
He isn't instructed to open his eyes, but he soon finds he's able to anyway as the other Riku slowly releases his hold on him. The boy's face is as pale as a sheet, his breathing still tense as he stares at Sora in shock and what almost looks like… guilt? The source of one of those becomes obvious when Sore glances around to find a circle of shimmering spikes surrounding them, spikes he hadn't even realized he'd made amidst his mounting despair. But the other…
"I… I didn't… I just wanted to…" the other Riku chokes, staring between Sora and the spikes nervously. He shakes his head as if to clear it, the remorse in his face deepening as a rush of red starts to fill it. "I-I'm sorry," he says, two words Sora never expected to hear here. "I'm sorry this happened to you, I'm sorry you're… I'm sorry I'm not… I'm just… sorry…"
On that final sorry, he rushes past Sora, not able to bear looking him in the eyes as he hurries back inside. In the aftermath, the most Sora can do is stand there, still soaked to the bone, completely stunned by what just happened. He slowly reaches a hand up to his face to skim the place where the other Riku had held him, the very same place the real Riku had touched him in the seconds before his death, the seconds before all semblance of joy had been stripped away from him forever.
Even though he's gone, it's as though a faint echo of him still remains. The only problem is… it's an echo Sora desperately doesn't want to hear.
XI
Surprisingly, it doesn't take long for Sora to become something he could have never thought he'd be amidst the ranks of Organization XIII.
He's bored.
He keeps waiting for something to happen, for his master to do something, for all of them to go somewhere. He waits for the dreaded day when they begin their conquest of Kingdom Hearts, when he'll have to stand by and help his master tear every world he's ever been to, every world he's come to care so much about apart. He waits for a shift, a change, for something to start or for something to end, for just about anything really. But… nothing comes.
Instead, he's kept to the rigid routine his masters have laid out for him. Wake up. Breakfast with Young Xehanort. Wander the castle. Serve his fellow members. Silently mourn the loss of the lights. Dinner with Xehanort. Sleep. It's a tedious, repetitive cycle that's starting to frustrate him more and more each time he has to go through it. But of course, he isn't permitted to ask his masters any questions about when things might change or when that cycle might break. He isn't permitted to be curious, he isn't permitted to know anything, say anything, do anything, be anything that isn't what his master wants of him.
As the thirteenth member, he's at the absolute bottom of the ranks, an aggravating, demeaning spot to be in. Every single soul at this castle, other than the lowly, mindless dusks that tend to the chores, holds some level of power over him, and that power is something most of them have no problem exercising. Even those who are ranked almost as low as he is.
Sora isn't often allowed time to himself, but whatever solitude his master does allow him, he savors. In that solitude, sometimes he'll simply lie on his bed, close his eyes, and let his mind take him somewhere far away from this dreary castle, far away from the horrible people occupying it, far away from the darkness and back into the light. He lets himself pretend his friends are still alive, that they're still standing by his side, that he can still smile and laugh alongside them just like he used to do. He lets himself pretend that Riku and Kairi had survived, that they really had saved him, that they're back safe and sound on the shores of the Destiny Islands. He lets himself pretend he still has everything… only to open his eyes each time and find nothing.
He's in the middle of one such spell of wistful imagination one afternoon, only to be abruptly broken out of it by a sudden strum sounding right outside his door. He opens his eyes to find Demyx leaning in his doorframe, sitar in hand as he plucks a few stray notes.
"So, uh, you sleeping or something?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at the younger boy.
"No," Sora replies shortly, scowling as he sits up. "What do you want?"
"Geez," Demyx winces at his surly tone. "And I thought Larxene was a grouch. I was just stopping by 'cause Xemnas wanted me to make sure you weren't dead or anything."
"Oh really?" Sora deadpans, unable to resist the urge to be sour. He isn't able to show this kind of disdain to many of his fellow members, but if there's any of them he isn't scared of in the slightest, it's Demyx. "What, does he actually think the master will let me die on his watch? After all the times he's brought me back even though I wanted to die?"
Demyx is silent for a moment, clearly uncomfortable as he clears his throat. "Y-yikes, that's… a little morbid, dont'cha think?"
"Whatever," Sora mutters, hugging his knees to his chest. "You've 'checked' on me, so just get out of here already, ok?"
"Hey now!" Demyx protests. "Seriously, that's just rude. You don't see the rest of us moping around here like you always do."
"Maybe that's because the rest of you actually want to be here…" Sora rolls his eyes, wishing he'd just leave.
But of course, he doesn't. Instead, Demyx steps fully into his room, tuning his sitar in the process. "Well, I know what'll cheer you up out of that crummy mood of yours. Why don't I play you a few tunes? I've been working on this awesome new set, you're gonna love it!"
"Uh… no thanks," Sora says curtly, barely even sparing him another glance.
"What?" Demyx frowns as he glances up from his sitar. "Oh, not a music fan, huh? Well don't you worry, numero thirteen, you definitely will be after you hear this!"
"I said no-" Sora's cut off as Demyx begins to play a loud, bombastic melody. Despite being surprisingly on-key, the song's tempo is chaotic, downright irritating really, to the point that Sora is quick to cover his ears to try and spare him from the unwanted noise. "Stop it-" he tries to say, but he's drowned out and unnoticed as Demyx continues strumming, clearly lost in the music–if it can even be called that. "Stop!" He remains unheard, his anger rising rapidly to the surface. Which is why it's no wonder that anger quickly explodes in more ways than one.
"SHUT UP!" he shouts as loudly as he possibly can. With that shout, a myriad of spikes burst through the floor to add onto the already sizable collection he's accidentally accumulated since his stay here began. Demyx immediately stops, nearly dropping his sitar as he stumbles back in apt alarm. His shock doesn't last long, however, before it swiftly shifts into a cross, spiteful glare.
"You shut up," he hisses, his voice low and bitter. But Sora's frustration is hardly curbed as he draws in a breath to keep yelling at his unwanted guest… only for not a single sound to come out.
What…? Sora tries to say, even moves his mouth to speak the word… but his voice stays silent. Still, he tries again, clutching his throat in rising distress as his vocal cords stubbornly refuse to respond. W-what's going on?! Why can't I-
"Whoa…" Demyx gasps, awestruck as he catches onto what's happening even before Sora does. "So that's how this works!"
How what works? Sora mouths, increasingly aggravated to find he still isn't able to say any of it aloud. What are you talking about?
Of course, since Demyx doesn't hear him, he all but ignores him as he reclaims his sitar and grins eagerly. "Ohohoh, ok, ok, let's put this to the test. Uh, get up…?" he instructs, and Sora, unable to disobey a direct order from a higher-ranking member, does exactly that.
Oh no… Sora thinks, not even making an attempt at speaking this time. Mostly because he's already figured out what's happening here, what Demyx has finally managed to piece together.
"All right! It really does work!" he exclaims excitedly as he passes Sora to plop down onto his bed, leaving its former occupant to remain standing. "Ok, number thirteen," he smirks smugly, something that only makes Sora loathe him more than he even thought possible. "Now that you're all nice and quiet, you can listen to the rest of my set. Oh, and after that's done, head down to the first floor kitchen and grab me a bite to eat." Unable to protest any of these demeaning commands, Sora simply stands there and listens, his eye twitching in frustration he isn't permitted to voice as Demyx props his feet up onto his bed. "Then you can give my boots a good shine and press my spare coats before heading off to cover for me at my patrol shift tonight. Lucky you, I was assigned to stand guard outside, so you'll get to enjoy the great weather we've been having!" he throws a hand toward the window, where it's still pouring without any sign of stopping. "How's all that sound? Oh, wait, don't answer that. Mostly 'cause you can't!"
He laughs as he starts a new song, one that Sora has no choice but to simply stand by and listen to. Along those same lines, he finds himself running down the lengthy list of chores Demyx had given him, each more mind-numbing and unpleasant than the last. What's worse is that even long after Demyx goes to bed for the night, Sora finds he's still suppressed into absolute silence, to the point that he isn't even capable of speaking when he goes to meet Young Xehanort the next morning for breakfast. His master doesn't even seem to notice though, or if he does, he does nothing to set him free from that silence, silence that's starting to become more and more torturous the longer he's left stewing in it.
Demyx is quick to find him again after that, sending him on even more humiliating errands throughout the day. They range from ridiculous and tiresome, such as the order to walk backward up and down every flight of the castle's many stairs, to downright dangerous, such as when Demyx tells him to take Larxene's piping hot coffee out of her hands and pour it straight onto her shoes. Needless to say, he receives more than a few painful shocks and stabs for that stunt, which leaves Demyx practically rolling on the floor with laughter. He tries to protest in his thoughts to his master at dinner that night, but Xehanort, unsurprisingly, isn't sympathetic in the slightest. He doesn't even acknowledge Sora's ongoing silence as he carries on a one-sided conversation with him just fine. And so the next several days unfold in a similar manner, without Sora even saying a word as he simply follows whatever orders he's given, no matter how embarrassing and idiotic those orders might be.
By the third day, he feels like little more than a lifeless puppet hanging on strings he can't escape from, mute and manipulated to move in whatever way his fellow members want him to. He's given up hope of ever hearing his own voice again, resigning himself to never speaking again. At least until his master, apparently no longer amused by his obligatory silence, finally, miraculously orders him to break it that night. And of course, the first words to leave his lips are the same thing he's said more times than he can count since he first passed through the castle gates:
"Thank you, master."
X
Amongst the ranks of Organization XIII and clad in their uniform black coat he'd always found so hideous, Sora finds himself oddly surprised that he doesn't feel as monstrous here as he did with the lights. Perhaps it's because he considers each of these people to be actual monsters, at least on the inside, if not on the out, or perhaps it's because it's not uncommon to see the occasional idle Nobody or Heartless roaming the castle halls. But for whatever reason, his more inhuman traits feel somewhat negated here, to the point that he only really remembers the claws exist when he looks at his hands, or that the antenna are there at all unless he happens to walk by a mirror. It's not exactly a comforting shift, that he's getting so accustomed to looking like this, to being here, but if this truly is his life now… well, he might as well try to get used to it all.
And to his credit, he almost starts to. At least until Vexen decides to get involved.
"Ah, number thirteen," he stops Sora in the hall one day, not long after his spell of silence is finally lifted. "Just the member I wanted to see. I require your assistance on a certain… project of mine."
"Um… w-what kind of project?" Sora manages to ask, already feeling a nervous pit growing in his stomach.
Vexen smiles, but it's a cruel kind of grin, one that only barely masks the obvious annoyance behind it. "Don't waste your breath asking foolish questions, boy, and I won't have to waste my breath trying to answer them in a way your simple mind can understand. Now, come along. We've much work to do…"
After well over a week at the castle, Sora still can't believe there are more halls and rooms he's unfamiliar with. Vexen leads him to a wing he's never seen before, up a staircase he didn't even know existed, to a room that looks quite different than the rest of the castle's elegant appearance. This room is dark and cold and seemingly sterile, walls lined with strange machines and even stranger tools, none of which make any sort of sense to Sora. Near the top of this tall room is what he can only assume is a window, though if anyone is watching from the other side, he has no idea. And resting in the center of the chamber is a long metal table, completely clean and completely bare–save for the empty manacles attached to the sides and bottom of it.
"What is this place?" Sora asks, against his better judgment.
"My laboratory," Vexen replies with a wide, proud grin. "Impressive, I know. Especially for being put together on such short notice. I had to start fresh here after the whole Castle Oblivion fiasco, but the master has made sure I have everything I need to continue my experiments unfettered."
"What kind of… e-experiments?" Sora repeats, his eyes never leaving the shining steel table in front of him.
"...Oh I'm so very glad you asked, number thirteen," Vexen approaches the table, patting it as he beckons Sora closer. "I encourage you to get comfortable. You're going to be here awhile."
Sora moves toward the table, but he still finds it in him to protest the order all the same. "I-I can't stay for too long, um… the master is expecting me for dinner soon and I-I, uh, don't want to upset-"
"Oh, trust me, Sora, that shouldn't be a problem," Vexen assures as he switches his usual black gloves out for something more durable. "You know, most of my previous work has been with Nobodies or replicas. It's been such a long time since I had a live human specimen as a subject; or I suppose in your case, somewhat human, but I'm not picky. You'll do just fine…"
The implication alone is enough to turn Sora's growing alarm into a rapidly rising panic. "I-I really don't think I should-"
"Disrobe and lie down, number thirteen," Vexen instructs, his calm tone becoming impatient and harsh. "Now."
Sora winces as his body reacts against his will. The only small act of autonomy he gets to have here is that he's able to slip his necklace off when Vexen's back is turned, hiding it safely in the pocket of his coat before he takes it off along with his shirt. He's cringes as his bare back makes contact with the freezing cold table, but his discomfort immediately instantly shifts to raw, unbridled terror when the manacles suddenly latch themselves tightly around his wrists and ankles. He screams as all sorts of awful memories of chains and poison and curses flood into his mind, and as his vision blurs, briefly, he thinks he sees Maleficent herself standing over him. But when it clears a moment later, he's met with the sight of a completely different monster instead.
"Really now? I haven't even done anything yet and you're already sniveling like the scared child you are," Vexen rolls his eyes, dryly regarding the terrified tears already streaming down the face of his newest 'subject'. "It's just like you to be unruly, Sora, even after all this time. Like nothing's changed at all. Fortunately, I'm more than capable of tuning out such pitiful distractions. So," He picks up a long empty vial with a long, sharp needle at the end of it, something that Sora nearly faints at the mere sight of. "Let's begin."
"W-what… what are you g-going to-"
"Calm yourself and hold still," Vexen interrupts, his tone still as haughty as ever. Sora lets out a sharp cry when the needle pierces his upper arm, his breath caught in his throat as he feels his own blood being leached out from the wound into the vial. "I'm merely collecting a blood sample for later study. Rudimentary, by all accounts, certainly nothing worth making a scene over like you're doing."
"I-I meant after-"
"After," Vexen cuts him off again as he finishes drawing blood. "I intend to get to the very bottom of what makes you so… unique. Whatever it takes to unlock the mysteries hiding behind a heart I could have only ever dreamed of studying before now. A heart as impossibly, incredibly special as yours, Sora…"
That doesn't answer his question, but by this point, Sora doesn't care. All he wants now is to get out of here, to run as far away from this horrid lab as he can, back to the relative safety of his room. He knows he'll never be able to convince Vexen to let that happen, but maybe invoking someone else can. "You can't do this!" he cries, his voice hitching in fear when he sees Vexen draw in with a surgical knife this time, far too close to his chest for comfort. "T-the master won't let you-"
Vexen simply laughs the moment he hears this though, grinning with twisted delight as he nods up to the window high above them both. "Oh, Sora. Who do you think asked me to experiment on you in the first place?"
Sora draws in an unsteady breath, his eyes wide as he stares up at the window, only to see his master's silhouette standing on the other side of the glass, watching everything, waiting for results, wanting to see him suffer by any means necessary. Stop this! he begs him internally, knowing Xehanort will be able to hear his thoughts loud and clear. Master, PLEASE, stop this!
But even though his master hears him, just like always, he never seems to care.
The knife slides smoothly into the center of his scar. There must be some kind of magic woven into the metal of the blade, because even though it doesn't dig in very deep, it sends a surge of burning pain pouring through almost every inch of his body. He screams again, not that Vexen even seems to hear him as he withdraws the knife and inserts some kind of tube into the relatively small wound, though exactly what that tube is meant to accomplish, Sora has no idea.
Several other tubes and wires follow, connecting various parts of his body to the monitors nearby. With his limbs as tightly restrained as they are, Sora has little hope of freeing himself from any of them, which allows Vexen to begin his experiments without resistance. The first few aren't anything too extreme: mostly poking and prodding and running a few general tests that cause little pain, though they do leave Sora increasingly uneasy as to what might come after them. Vexen doesn't speak much through the first few rounds, instead preoccupied with observing and documenting whatever research he's getting out of this onto his computer. Things don't truly take a turn for the worse, however, until Vexen brings out a large pair of shears. At first, Sora theorizes they're for the sake of cutting his hair, not that he knows what the "scientific" purpose of that might be. Until Vexen takes a tight hold of his left antenna and, in one swift, sharp cut, slices the fairly new appendage straight off of his scalp.
Sora's scream echoes through the lab, all the way up to the window his master is watching from. Blood surges from his head as he arcs his back against the table, thrashing against his cuffs in a desperate attempt to simply staunch the gaping wound. Amidst his distress, he only vaguely catches sight of Vexen holding his now detached antenna up and examining it with immense interest, as if he didn't just horrifically mutilate someone to get it.
Even Vexen is surprised, however, when that antenna suddenly disappears into tiny flecks of raw darkness. At the same time, Sora's pained shouts hitch even louder as an entirely different kind of anguish pounds through his skull. He isn't able to see as a brand new antenna starts to emerge from the same place the one he'd just lost had been, regrowing itself in a mere matter of seconds. This one comes in a bit longer than the other, bent awkwardly as it falls over the edge of the table above him. Even so, it leaves Vexen amazed as he hurries to record what he's just witnessed as his subject remains suffering on the table behind him.
"Fascinating!" he mutters as he rapidly types it all down. "The subject's Heartless-esque qualities are regenerative! The master is sure to be impressed by such a groundbreaking discov-" He cuts himself off as he glances up to the window, only to catch sight of Xehanort shaking his head, directly confirming that he isn't impressed. That Vexen hasn't gotten to the heart of what he wants him to uncover. That he needs to push the boy even harder to get the results his master is after.
"Very well then…" Vexen mutters, disgruntled as he steps away from his computer. While Sora is still trying to catch his breath from effectively losing and regrowing a limb, his tormentor raises his hand and summons a dark corridor to life on the table right underneath his subject. As bound and trapped as he is, Sora isn't able to actually go anywhere through it, but the darkness it's composed of still swells over him all the same. Without the black coat to protect him, that darkness easily weaves its way into his vulnerable body, quickly creating that all too familiar feeling of sickness that he succumbs to every time he travels through one. His stomach turns violently, wracking several harsh, hacking coughs as his body begs him to dispel the invasive shadows plaguing it. But in his current position, he isn't able to get anything out; instead, the liquid darkness accumulates at the back of his throat, essentially choking him, drowning him as he convulses and cries for the air he can't get.
Vexen rolls his eyes at his subject's plight, inconvenienced by the fact that he has to step over to place a hand under Sora's head to tilt it upward so he can properly vomit. What comes out this time is nothing but black, ink-like blotches, not a speck of blood in sight as it spills from his mouth onto his bare chest. Amidst the haze of nausea that remains after the dark corridor finally disappears, Sora can't help but wonder if that's all that flows through his body now–sheer, despicable darkness and nothing else.
Hours pass, and several more horrific experiments unfold on each one. His claws one one hand are practically shredded down to the bone, only to grow back even longer and sharper seconds later. His folded feet are stretched out flat, the new bone structure of them forced to bend in ways they're not supposed to, with several of those bones no doubt breaking in the process. His chest, specifically the area around his heart is left raw and red from all of the elements it's exposed to, from fire to water to ice to lightning. But for as exhausted and agonized as Sora is left from all of these torturous experiments, the true breaking point doesn't come until Vexen slips a needle into the side of his neck, injecting something into him, though at this point, he can't be bothered to care what. His senses seem to dull from the unknown substance, his mind and body both turning numb as his vision begins to dim and the sounds of the surrounding lab grow muted. At first, he thinks he might be heading toward the bliss and comfort of sleep, something he so desperately needs after everything his body has just been through. Until…
"..ra… ora… Sora! … Sora!"
He opens his eyes with a small, startled breath, to find two blurry figures standing over him. His mind is muddled to the point that it takes him far too long to realize who they are until one of them reaches down to place a gentle hand on his forehead.
"You're finally awake! It's about time…"
"You're awfully sick, Sora… We oughta get you outta here as soon as we can."
"H-huh…?" Sora blinks, his mouth dry and thick to the point that even speaking seems to be a struggle. But he recognizes their voices if nothing else, his heart stirring with something that almost feels like hope when one of them slowly starts to help him sit up, his legs and arms no longer bound as they'd been mere moments before. "D-Donald…? G-Goofy…?" he can already feel tears brimming in his eyes as he says their names, but they only start to fall when he can finally see their faces clearly. "What… what are you doing-"
"What do you think we're doing here?" Donald asks with a bit of a smirk.
"We came to save ya!" Goofy exclaims brightly.
"But… t-the Organization…" Sora protests in apt fear. "My master-"
"We already took care of those chumps," Donald assures as he and Goofy both help Sora to his feet, allowing him to lean against them both for support. "And if you don't take our word for it, just look at yourself!"
Sora does so, a shocked gasp escaping him as he glances down at his hands, fully human once again without any trace of his claws remaining. He reaches for a lock of his hair, only to find that it's back to its formerly brown shade, and he has no doubt that his eyes are blue again too. Even his clothing is back to what it had been before, as if nothing had ever happened to him, as if he'd been set free in only a matter of seconds, as if he'd finally awakened from a nightmare he never thought would end.
"Now c'mon!" Goofy encourages warmly. "Let's get ya home, Sora. Everyone's waitin' for you."
"Everyone…" Sora repeats with a small, wistful smile. Everyone, all of his friends, everyone he thought he'd lost. Everyone… even Riku and Kairi. Something at the back of his mind tries to poison such a lovely thought, to tell him that they won't be there waiting for him, that they're both long gone. But he ignores whatever that odd notion might be, knowing that they are, knowing that each step he takes alongside his longtime companions is bringing him closer to everything he's ever wanted, everything he's ever needed.
Except…
He stops short when his vision suddenly shifts, when he no longer feels Donald and Goofy's comforting presence on either side of him. When he finds himself in an endless void of dark clouds, with nothing but an unbroken surface of reflective water below. At first, all he hears here is silence, until… a voice, unspoken, but still so loud and clear reverberates, not through the air, but through his heart.
It's almost time for you to decide…
He looks around for the source of this voice but finds nothing. Nothing but his own reflection staring back at him in the water, half of his body consumed in darkness… the other half haloed in pure light.
You are not where you belong… but you will be… soon.
Something suddenly starts to break through the clouds above him. His eyes grow wide as he watches golden light part the darkness, as a bright, beautiful shape brims into life. A shape, a heart that completely captivates him, a heart that calls him to come closer, to come home.
We have both been fractured for so long… Together, we'll finally be whole…
In the world of this vision, he steps forward, reaching a hand out toward the heart as he heeds its gentle, beckoning words. But in reality, he remains strapped to a cold metal table, his eyes unseeing as he stares up at the ceiling high above him. He's watched on, not just by his experimenter, but by his master, by his entire Organization by this point. But only one of them sees any true significance in what happens next. Only Xehanort leans forward from his seat in the room high above the lab, his eyes narrowing as he observes his thirteenth vessel.
As he watches the boy's eyes go completely blank, as those eyes begin to glow, one pure black, one pure white. As he hears the child whisper something, not just in his own voice, but in thousands of other voices only his master can hear.
"I am the one who will open the door…"
Xehanort swiftly rises from his seat, more than prepared to head down into that lab and finally claim what he's been after for decades. But before he can even take a single step… suddenly it all goes wrong.
In both reality and in the hallucination he's been trapped in, a scream tears its way out of Sora when he watches the heart suddenly withdraw back into the clouds. In the process, he feels as though a piece of his own heart is being torn away from him with it, the most essential piece, something he knows he can't survive without. He collapses into the waters beneath him, falling through their unbreakable surface into the unknown depths below. His cries echo through the lab as his eyes continue to glow, only this time, both of them turn a bright, garish gold. Darkness swells up from his chest to slip over his neck, across his face as his fangs lengthen, as his claws grow, as his entire body becomes more muscular and massive with each passing second.
Vexen pales, stumbling backward when his subject's arms become large enough to no longer be contained. He bursts from his restraints with a powerful, feral roar, his legs reshaping as the rest of his body doubles, triples in size. A large set of wings burst from his back, his antenna rising even higher above his head as he continues his gruesome transformation. And at the end of that transformation, he rises up from the table not as a human, but as a monster, a Heartless, one that towers tall enough to be on even eye level with the window his master is watching him from.
Vexen cowers at the sight of such a hideous, dangerous beast, calling upon his shield to protect him as he realizes too late that he might have gone too far. The Heartless screams again as it glares down at his tormentor, filled with obvious, unshakable rage as he raises a clawed hand high for a deadly attack. And yet… that attack never comes. Suddenly, the beast stops, its attention drawn to the window only feet away from it. There, his master only has to raise a hand, his expression dark and cross as he silently banishes this grotesque form back into the depths of his vessel's heart.
In a short, sudden flash of blinding darkness, Sora is back to his mostly-human form, hanging in the air for only a second until he falls the full distance back to the ground. He's already unconscious when he brutally hits bottom, his body and mind far too battered to keep him awake. Aside from the wounds he sustained during Vexen's experiments, he seems no worse for wear… save for the lingering additions still draping down from his upper back, something that refuses to go away alongside his claws, his fangs, his antenna, alongside everything else that makes him look even more like a monster than he already does.
For his part, Vexen takes a moment to catch his breath from this disastrous ordeal as he eyes the listless boy warily, not wanting to take any chances at a possible relapse. Once he's sure Sora is completely out of it, he glances up at the window, bowing in slight respect in the hopes of winning back Xehanort's no-doubt lost favor. "M-my apologies, master," he says, surveying the chaotic state the child's transformation had left his lab in. "Allow me just a few days to clean this mess up and we can continue our research on our thirteenth as planned-"
"No," Xehanort cuts him off coldly. "Clearly, I should not have put such an important project in your incapable hands. These so-called 'experiments' have been an abject failure."
Vexen swallows hard, flustered and embarrassed as he shoots the child in question a frustrated glare for disgracing him in front of his master. "B-but I-"
"Enough, my tenth," Xehanort sharply interrupts, raising a hand to dismiss the rest of his Organization from the observation chamber. "Return my thirteenth to his room so he may recover from this utter waste of time. And when you're finished with that, shutter this pitiful excuse of a laboratory. I will take over studying the boy's heart from here."
As disappointed as he is, Vexen does as he's told. When Sora awakens sometime the next day, he finds himself back in his room, scarcely able to remember anything he'd seen in his hallucination. He does, however, remember the experiments, the sheer terror and pain each and every one of them had caused him. He struggles to realize that they're finally over, but as he slowly sits up, he finds that the dull ache still ringing through his body isn't the only thing left behind from them.
He feels a slight bit of new weight on his back, as if something has been awkwardly attached to it. When he reaches behind him, he feels something solid and cold that registers his touch in turn as he shudders against it. Confused, he weakly manages to get up and make his way over to the mirror… only to find a full set of wings spread out behind him. They're fully black, nearly matching his antennas in their sharp, angular state. They're a daunting, unpleasant sight, one that he loathes almost the second he sees them. But much like everything else now, he knows they're something he'll now never be rid of.
And the longer he stares at these unwanted wings, and his unacceptable reflection, the more Sora finds himself hating it all. Hating what he's seeing, what he's become, what's happened to him. Hating this castle he's trapped in, hating the Organization he's lost himself to, hating the master that made him this way. Hating his life and everything about it, hating his very existence and the cruel joke it's become.
Hating it all so very much… and hating that there isn't a damn thing he can do about it. Hating that none of it will ever, ever change.
IX
The wings are… annoying, to say the least.
Sleep doesn't come easy with them as he's now forced to lay flat on his back, uncomfortably bending the place where they emerge from his back. He receives a handful of new coats, specifically made to accommodate his new appendages, and he nearly spits out the thank you he's forced to give when his young master hands them to him. By all accounts, the wings themselves are useless, incapable of any flight whatsoever. They're simply "for show", to make him look even more like a miserable freak than he already did before. To make him feel even more out of place among an Organization he never wanted to be in at all.
Though his wings aren't very wide or very large, Sora manages to get caught in plenty of door frames all around the castle because of them. Sometimes, it happens in the presence of one of his masters or superiors, sending a wave of relentless embarrassment washing over him. He doesn't know why he even bothers caring about what they think of him, but some part of his corrupted heart betrays him by doing exactly that all the same. His fellow members aren't much better about them, with plenty of taunts and teasing tossed his way whenever he's unlucky to cross paths with one of them. And unfortunately, thanks to his master's orders, that's something that happens far more often than he'd like.
The Gray Area is very quickly becoming one of Sora's most despised rooms of the castle, right alongside both of his masters' chambers. It's where most of his fellow members tend to spend their idle time, a common area where they go to relax or engage in their various hobbies. While Sora would never go there on his own accord, his young master recently instructed him to head there every morning following breakfast to attend to the needs of any of his fellow members. And as the essential, unofficial slave of Organization XIII, Sora has no choice but to comply.
He expects to find the usual crowd this morning, and to receive the usual treatment from them. Some kind of snide remark from Xigbar or Marluxia, a few demeaning errands to run from Demyx or Larxene, uncomfortable, silent stares from Saïx or the other Riku. But this morning, he's surprised to find only one there is one of the more… agreeable members, Luxord.
"Greetings, Sora," he glances up with a grin from whatever card game he's currently in the middle of as the boy enters quietly. "I didn't expect to see you this morning. With all of our colleagues preoccupied with their own duties, I assumed our master wouldn't bother sending you all the way down here. It must be quite an inconvenience to you."
The way he smirks as he draws a sip of his tea makes Sora think he's trying to trap him somehow. He's more than used to his fellow members trying to get him to say or do something to invoke their master's wrath, to see him punished or humiliated even more than he already is just by being here. Which is why Sora wisely decides to ignore such a leading comment altogether. "Um… So you don't need anything then?" he asks, desperately hoping that he won't.
"Now, now, I never said that," Luxord retorts, collecting his cards to shuffle them. "Solitaire is a dreadfully boring game. I much prefer to play with a partner." He nods to the empty chair across the table from him. "Take a seat, number thirteen."
Sora moves to do so, frowning apprehensively all the while. "Uh, I don't really know how to play any card games…"
"You needn't worry," Luxord assures as the boy sits. "I have a feeling you'll learn fast."
Sora sits, thinking this assignment to be strangely innocent enough, a far cry from what he usually gets whenever he comes here each day. Besides, it can't be any worse than the much more risky game he has to play each evening when he goes to see his master. "So… what are we playing?"
"A game of my own creation, actually," Luxord says as he deals four cards to each of them. "I call it Hail to the King. The objective is quite simple: to emerge with at least one king in your hand by the time every card in this deck has been pulled."
"That… does sound pretty easy," Sora admits as he prepares to turn his cards over to see his hand. At least until Luxord stops him.
"Ah, but therein lies the catch," he advises. "You can't turn your cards over to see what you have until the deck is gone."
"Then how do you know if you're winning or not?" Sora raises an eyebrow, lost in the rules of this supposedly "simple" game.
"I suppose that's the excitement of it," Luxord smirks knowingly. Dangerously. "There is no way to know how well you're doing when it comes to a game of chance."
Sora can tell there's multiple layers to this statement, but he doesn't linger on that thought for too long as the game begins. True to Luxord's word, it is rather simple, with almost no skill involved whatsoever. Each of them must sacrifice one of their cards each turn for one in the deck, though with the cards obscured as they are, there's no telling if they're giving away a relatively useless number or an elusive king needed to succeed. There's little conversation during their first round, with Sora trying to focus on a game he doesn't know how to win and doesn't really know if he needs to win, and Luxord almost graciously allowing him that focus. It goes by rather quickly, and when the deck is finally cleaned out, Luxord finally turns his hand and places it down on the table for them both to see.
"Hm, two jacks, a 7, and an ace…" he frowns, coolly disappointed. "Not my best results… What of yours, Sora?"
Sora hesitantly turns his cards, letting out an amazed gasp at what he sees. All four of the cards sitting before him bear silver crowns on their faces, just about the most coveted set one could possibly hope for in a game such as this. "A shining collection of kings," Luxord grins, audibly applauding. "Well done, number thirteen. It seems you might just have a hidden talent for these sorts of games."
"R-really?" Sora asks, stifling a smile. It isn't often when one of his fellow members genuinely compliments him, and from what he can tell, Luxord seems to be earnest. At least as far as he can tell.
"Indeed," Luxord nods as he gathers the cards. "Why don't we give it another go to prove your audacious luck? And this time, let's make things a bit more… interesting, with a wager of sorts."
"What kind of wager?" Sora asks, suddenly nervous.
"Nothing too extreme," Luxord says as he deals the cards again. "If you win, then perhaps I'll let you in on a certain secret our master doesn't want you to be privy to quite yet."
A secret… Sora already knows his master has plenty of those to spare, secrets that his fellow members have access to, that he likely never will. Secrets that likely center solely on him, secrets he longs to know if only to know what the future might hold, to know exactly what awaits him now that he's exactly where his master wants him to be. Luxord isn't specific about what kind of secret it might be, but it's far too tantalizing of an offer to pass up. Besides, it's not like he has much to risk if he loses. But even so… "What happens if you win?" he asks, trying to be strategic for a change.
"Hm…" Luxord pauses for a moment to mull the question over. "Well, usually the gratification of victory alone is more than enough to satisfy me. But if you insist on making this wager even, then if I win… then I'd like to hear a secret from you, Sora."
"But I don't have any-"
"I believe… you do," Luxord interrupts, still smiling. Sora resists the urge to bring his hand up to his neck, to where his necklace is hiding just beneath the collar of his coat. It truly is the last secret he has left to keep, the only thing he has a chance of his fellow members not knowing. And after everything else he's long since lost, it truly is the only thing he has left. Something he's so deeply desperate not to lose. "So, what do you say, number thirteen? Up for another game?"
"N-no-" Sora tries to protest, but the sudden spark of pain surging through him keeps him glued to his seat. Suppressed by this power, he nods against his will, already knowing he's been set up to fail. Already knowing this is a game he won't ever be able to win.
That game begins at a much slower pace than the last, with Luxord being much more chatty this time around as they take turns exchanging cards. "You know, one really does have to wonder…" he begins as he slips another unknown card from the deck. "Now that you're here, fully settled and willing to play your part, what exactly is the master waiting for? His Organization has been assembled, the guardians of lights snuffed out, no one and nothing left to oppose his regime… so why does it seem as though that regime has been put on hold…?"
"I-I don't know…" Sora replies honestly. That very same question has plagued him essentially since he arrived, and even still he can't fathom why nothing significant has happened in the days, now weeks that have followed. With as hard as his master worked to convert him to his cause, wouldn't he want to kickstart his grand plan as soon as possible? Wouldn't he want to conquer the worlds as his own as soon as he can?
"It's very mysterious, don't you think?" Luxord says, stroking his short beard. "Then again, it's not exactly as if the master is an open book. He keeps his ambitions close, and from the looks of it, his thirteenth vessel even closer."
"What do you mean?" Sora asks, not entirely sure he wants to find out.
"Oh, come off it, boy," Luxord smiles again, but there's something almost grim behind it. "We all know of your exclusive meals with both of the masters by now. Despite your low ranking, it appears he favors you for whatever reason. You've garnished a kind of rapport with him that some of our more… aspiring members such as Vexen or Marluxia could only dream of. Which begs the question… what exactly does our master see in you, number thirteen?"
Sora shakes his head, his head swimming with so many thoughts and theories that it all quickly becomes overwhelming. "I-I… h-he said I was… his most… important vessel…" he admits almost sheepishly.
"Really?" Luxord questions, seemingly not even surprised. "Well then, no wonder he wants to keep such a careful eye on you. His hopes, all of our hopes, rest on your shoulders, Sora. Take care not to disappoint us."
Sora feels sick as he absently nods, wanting to do exactly that, wishing he still had enough strength, enough freedom left to shatter the twisted goals of his awful Organization to pieces. But instead, he's exactly what Luxord had said, the very piece that puts each and every one of those goals into motion, the one who everything he hates so very much hinges so heavily upon. He's so shaken by the thought that he doesn't even notice when the deck disappears, bringing this decisive round to a sudden, initially uncertain end.
"Ah, two kings! How fortuitous!" Luxord beams as he flips his hand over. "You'd best hope you have the other two, Sora. If so, we'll call it a draw and try again. If not…"
Sora's heart sinks into his stomach when he turns his cards to find not a single king in sight. He stares down at the low numbers sitting before him, the cold metal of his crown searing his chest as he slowly starts to reach for it. Until…
"You didn't hear it from me," Luxord says, his voice low and rarely serious as he leans forward a bit. "But word has it, that the master is waiting for a very specific day for which to put his plans into motion. Something about "the 17th" if the whispers that carry through the castle are correct."
Sora blinks, caught off guard as he tries to make sense of what he'd just heard. "I… w-why are you telling me this?" he whispers, glancing around the otherwise empty room worriedly. "I thought… if I lost-"
"Sora, I'd say you've already lost more than enough by this point," Luxord concludes simply, collecting his cards as he rises to stand. His expression is oddly neutral, his tone much the same as he turns to take his leave. "Just remember, you heard nothing, you know nothing."
Despite his bewilderment, Sora nods, unsure of what else to say or do at this juncture. Unsure of what to make of this bizarre encounter, of the peculiar game or the mysterious gambler he'd just played it with. "This was truly a pleasure, Sora," Luxord says, back to his usual haughty tone. A tone that this time, Sora's not so sure is even sincere anymore. "I do hope we'll get the chance to play another game again soon. You might just manage to surprise me–and all of us–still…"
And with that, he walks away, leaving Sora sitting there alone with his last secret still intact. And with another, entirely new secret resting on his shoulders, a secret he doesn't understand in the slightest. He's not so sure he wants to either.
VIII
There are certain members Sora makes more of an effort to steer clear of than others, and very close to the top of that list is Larxene. His time in Arendelle had taught him that the Organization's sole female member is not to be trifled with; if anything, she's one of the most vicious and violent of the bunch, without any shred of empathy or mercy to spare. Since his time among the Organization began, Sora has been unlucky enough to cross her more than a few times, almost always unintentionally. Her temper flares easily and it burns hot, and each time he finds himself on the wrong end of it, he feels the fire of her frustration in full force. He tries his best to avoid that fire, and avoid Larxene in general, by keeping his distance, and to his credit, there are some days where it does work. But then, there are other days where fate itself seems to have it out for him, where life seems to want to make him bleed both on the inside and the out. And unfortunately, today just so happens to be one of those days.
He's minding his own business, lost in thought as he absently traverses a lengthy hallway late in the afternoon. He's so preoccupied thinking about largely nothing at all that he doesn't even glance around the corner he's about to turn, and in doing so, is far too late to stop himself from colliding into another member turning that same corner at the same time. He's too late to stop himself from making the dangerous mistake of running into Larxene, of all people.
"Ugh! Dumb brat!" she hisses, maintaining her footing as she roughly shoves him to the ground. "Why don't you watch where you're going for a change?!"
Sora wisely chooses to say nothing as he picks himself up off the ground, not wanting to provoke her even further. Unfortunately, his mere silence alone is enough to do exactly that and then some. "Well?" she asks, hands perched on her hips.
"Well what?" Sora asks before he can think better of it.
"Apologize for running into me, idiot," Larxene snaps, glaring at him all the while.
"I-I'm… sorry… for being so careless," Sora winces as he speaks, practically feeling the higher-ranking member feeding the words into him.
Even so, that's hardly enough to placate Larxene. "Yeah, you better be," she huffs, crossing her arms. "What do you even do all day, just wandering around the place with your empty head in the clouds? Just because you're a stupid waste of space doesn't mean you have to act like one."
"I was just-"
"Shut it, runt," Larxene interrupts him almost immediately. "Do I look like I care about how a loser like you spends their time? Still…" she finally smirks, something that sends a sudden burst of fear shooting straight through Sora. "If the old man doesn't give you enough to do with all that 'free time' of yours, then maybe someone else oughta…"
"Um… n-no thanks," Sora steps back anxiously. "I actually have a lot to do today, so, uh-"
"Oh yeah?" Larxene challenges, raising an eyebrow. "Like what?"
"Like… Um…" Sora bites his lip, struggling to come up with something, anything to get him out of this already risky situation he's put himself in. The smug smirk that plays upon Larxene's crimson lips when she realizes he has nothing to say makes him want to run and hide, but her command over him is ultimately what forces him to stay put.
"That's what I thought," her treacherous smile widens as she walks past him, urging him to follow. "C'mon, thirteen. Let's go have some fun."
As it turns out, Larxene's idea of "fun" takes place on one of the higher spires of the castle, upon a balcony conveniently covered from the rain. Of course, she makes Sora stand in the one small section of it that's still getting soaked, on the very edge of the balcony, with nothing but the vast, bottomless chasm surrounding the castle below.
"I-I really don't think I should be standing this close to the edge…" Sora comments, nervously peeking over the terrifying drop.
"I really don't think you should be talking as much, thirteen," Larxene rolls her eyes as she checks over her knives. "Relax; we're just up here so I can get in a bit of… target practice."
"Using me as the target?" Sora asks, aghast, but hardly surprised.
"No, stupid," Larxene scoffs as she pulls an apple out of her pocket. "Using this." She steps over to him, perching the apple squarely on Sora's head in the space between his antennas. "Luckily for you, I'm a great shot, so if you just stand still and don't freak out like a little crybaby, then you'll have nothing to worry about. But if you do, well, then I guess you'll finally have a chance to put these pretty wings of yours to good use." She smirks, roughly pulling the very tip of one of his wings until he winces away from her.
"But they don't wo-"
"Shh!" Larxene sharply silences him as she steps back several feet. "Last time I checked, targets don't talk."
Despite her earlier assurance, Larxene isn't making much of an effort to aim her first few knives well. Sora can only assume she's doing this on purpose to frighten him as several of her projectiles fly dangerously close to his head, with each near miss making him flinch more than the last. He does his best to keep his feet firmly planted in place, his balance even, and his sights set away from the deadly drop only inches behind him. For the most part, he remains stable, even when one of Larxene's knives gets close enough to slice off a few short locks of his hair. But then, things take a dangerous turn when one of them directly strikes one of his antennas.
He lets out a small, sharp cry, his hand flying up to remove the knife now stabbed directly into the base of his antenna. At least until Larxene takes immense delight in stopping him. "Leave it," she orders, smirking sadistically. "I think it's an improvement."
So Sora's hand falls back to his side, pained tears brimming in his eyes as he remains as still as he can while he continues to suffer in silence. That suffering is brought to a whole new level, however, when he catches a particularly cruel grin from his current tormentor. When he watches her throw another knife, when he realizes that knife isn't soaring toward the apple on his head… when he realizes it's going straight toward his face.
He loses his composure completely when it hits him, slicing deep across his cheek as he's left stumbling back from the painful blow. Time seems to slow across the following seconds as he grips his injured cheek, as his foot flies backward only to find no ground to stand on. As he tries and fails to keep his balance, as he tips and slips over the edge. As he's left in a freefall toward the unknown abyss below.
Larxene's alarmed swear is drowned out by Sora's panicked scream as he plummets rapidly, the castle blurring before his teary eyes as he falls down the length of its many stories in mere seconds. His wings do expectedly nothing to keep him afloat, even as he begs them to flap or move or do something to at the very least slow his overwhelming descent. He expects to continue falling into the darkness, until the end of time itself if there truly is nothing at the bottom of it. And if he's being honest with himself, it's likely a better fate to have than what he's been dealt with inside those horrid castle walls. But somehow, the trajectory of his plunge is shifted, leaving him cascading closer to the castle itself instead of the shadowy pit surrounding it. He only has the briefest of seconds to panic as he sees one of the lowest balconies come into view, and he realizes far too late that he's going to hit it until he does.
And as he makes a brutal impact with the solid, unyielding ground… suddenly, starkly, everything just stops.
His body lies still on the metallic floor, his eyes opened wide but completely unseeing as a trickle of blood pours out from his agape mouth. For the first time in weeks, the rain abruptly ceases, but the already dark skies above the World that Never Was seem to turn even more so, a low roar of thunder echoing across them. He's left alone for only a few seconds before a dark corridor tears open a few feet away from him. While normally confident and composed, Larxene rushes out of it breathlessly, terror split across her expression as she runs over to the listless boy before her.
"Oh for crying out loud!" she shouts, anger hitching into her fear as she grabs him by the collar of his coat. "Wake up, you useless brat!" She shakes him roughly, only for his body to remain limp in her grasp, his head lolling downward as he shows no signs of life whatsoever. "I said wake up!" she yells, slapping a heavy hand across his already injured face. Even so, he doesn't respond in the slightest, leaving Larxene's distress to grow as she realizes her fatal mistake far too late. "N-no," she lets him fall to the ground, taking a step back from his still-unmoving form. "No. I'm not going down like this, not because of a pathetic mutant like you! So you either wake up right now before he finds out, or I'm gonna-"
"You're going to do what exactly, my eighth?" She freezes stiff, a massive wave of pain pouring straight into her heart as she falls to her knees with a sudden yell. She glances over her shoulder to see Young Xehanort emerging from the shadows, a dissatisfied scowl written on his face as he takes in the sorry sight before him. "Because from the looks of it, you've already done more than enough to harm my thirteenth today."
"I-I…" Larxene chokes as she presses a hand against her chest, trembling against the anguish still pounding through it. "I-it was an accident! I didn't mean to kill the dumb kid, I just-"
"But you did anyway," Young Xehanort says coldly. "And that's precisely the problem. I don't think you realize just how important that boy is, Larxene. You crave power so desperately, but without Sora, you will never see so much as a glimpse of it."
Larxene bristles, hating how her master can see through her so easily when so few others can. "W-whatever," she wraps her arms around herself tightly as the pain in her heart begins to die down. "Can't you just… bring him back like you always do?"
"I could," Young Xehanort acknowledges. "But since you're the one responsible for his most recent passing, I believe I'll leave that task to you this time."
"What?" Larxene scoffs indignantly. "How am I even supposed to-"
"You possess mastery over lightning, do you not?" Young Xehanort counters almost impatiently. "Use it."
With this stern command issued, Larxene rises to her feet, glaring hatefully down at the dead boy before her as she raises her hands over his prone form. She doubts this will even work, but she still lets powerful bolts of lightning spark from her fingertips as she leans over, pushing down hard against the child's unbeating heart. She repeats this maneuver several times over, watching as his body jolts violently each time she sends another resounding shock through it. And yet, despite her efforts, he remains still, not moving, not breathing, not doing anything as her master continues to put unspoken, yet immense pressure on her to succeed.
It doesn't take long for her frustration to reach a boiling point. She briefly forgets about her master standing behind her as she rises to her full height, golden lightning crackling around her entire body as she lets out a fearsome shout. She unleashes that lightning upon the stiffening corpse in front of her in full force, not letting up until her magic has been completely spent. And the second that it is, her "paitent" finally manages to make his way back to life.
Sora darts up, taking in a heavy gasp as air starts to fill his lungs once more, as the rain picks up again almost immediately. His newly-revived heartbeat is rapid, stinging pain burning his lungs as he looks around frantically… yet still sees nothing at all. "W-what… I… where am I?" he asks, the world nonexistent amidst the cloudy void that's filled his vision. "W-why can't I…" he rubs his eyes, only for his sight to remain alarmingly absent. His eyes glow a light, dull shade of yellow as he throws his arms around the empty air in front of him, hoping to feel something to gather his bearings as he realizes the terrifying truth. "I-I can't see!"
Larxene receives another targeted attack on her heart as Sora continues to panic, taking out any shred of amusement that it might have brought her altogether. "Oh, come on," she glares back at her master. "That is not my fault."
"I'd say this whole ordeal is solely your fault," Young Xehanort retorts dryly.
"W-who's there?" Sora cuts in, turning to the direction of the voices he's hearing. "Master? Is that you?"
Young Xehanort steps forward, his icy tone shifting to something a bit softer as he places a comforting hand on his distraught vessel's head. "Be at ease, my thirteenth," he consoles, his expression still dour, not that Sora can see it. "Your current blindness is only temporary. And until it passes, you have no reason to worry. Larxene will take exceptional care of you."
"What?!" Sora and Larxene both exclaim in alarmed unison.
"Oh, no, no way," Larxene protests adamantly. "I already babysat that brat once, I am not doing it agai-" She cuts herself off with a shrill, anguished scream as yet another spark of pain sears its way through her heart. Her master fixes her with a vicious warning scowl as he turns away from his frightened thirteenth, focusing all of his ire on his rebellious eighth instead.
"You will do as you're told, my eighth," he says sternly, unwaveringly. "Because you chose to be so foolishly reckless with my property, until his sight is fully restored, you are to not to leave Sora's side, and you are not to let any further harm befall him. Do I make myself immensely clear?"
Larxene wavers, all of her former bravado completely gone as she struggles to so much as even speak under her master's oppressive power. "Y-yes… master…"
"M-master, please," Sora begs anxiously, fumbling to find Young Xehanort until he grabs the edge of his coat. "Don't make me go with her. She-"
"I'm well aware of what she did to you, Sora," Young Xehanort interrupts as he pulls his coat away. "But you needn't fear it happening again. Until you recover, she is going to treat you like the valued member of this Organization that you truly are, isn't that right, Larxene?"
"...Fine," she grumbles as she tries to ignore the sting still surging through her veins. She fixes her hateful glare on Sora for a moment, before remembering he can't even see it, so instead, she turns her gaze to the ground, humbled and humiliated as her master begins to leave.
"See to it that he is not late for his daily meals with me or my elder self," Young Xehanort instructs her when he passes her by. "And remember, my eighth: you are replaceable, he is not."
Larxene says nothing until she's sure her master is out of earshot. She swiftly turns to face Sora, who's still sitting on the ground, still awash in the sickening horror that he's not only completely blind, but completely reliant on the very same woman who had murdered him mere moments ago.
"You worthless, miserable little MISTAKE!" she screams at him, her fury clear enough in her voice even though he can't see it in her face. "If I could get away with it, I'd kill you all over again, on purpose for what you just put me through! And now he expects me to spend the next few days "mommying" you just because your stupid eyes can't take a little lightning!? As if I couldn't already hate it here any more than I already do!"
"If you hate it so much, then why do you still put up with it?" Sora retorts, his fear sharpening into frustration with the equally awful hand his master has dealt him with in this situation. A cruel form of punishment that's clearly meant for them both. "If you hate our master, then why'd you even agree to follow him at all?"
"Because I wanted to stay with-" Larxene abruptly cuts herself off. She looks away, and finds herself oddly grateful that Sora can't see what passes over her expression in the seconds that follows. It comes and goes quickly, though, leaving her stewing in bitter anger that isn't likely to alleviate any time soon. "Tch, none of your business, brat," she growls as she abruptly grabs Sora by both of his antennas to drag him along after her. "Just shut up and come on. The sooner you start seeing again, the better off we'll both be…"
Unfortunately, it takes about a full day or so for any signs of his vision to return at all, and even more days after that for his sight to return in full. And during those days, both Sora and Larxene are absolutely, unshakably miserable, just as their master likely expected them to be. Larxene is anything but kind as she obligatorily guides Sora around the castle, making no qualms about showing just how much she despises him through almost every second of it. For his part, Sora isn't allowed to say much against her, forced to follow her lead lest he be left in the dark entirely. One would think that a strange kind of mutual respect would form between the two of them amidst their equally awful circumstances, but instead, the exact opposite happens. Their already existent hatred for each other only grows with each passing day they're forced to spend together, to the point that most other members leave them well enough alone to avoid catching ire from either of them. By the time Sora can finally see clearly again and their master gives them both their relative independence back, the most they exchange is one final spiteful glare as they part ways, intent on avoiding each other as much as they can.
In fact, after that fiasco, Sora notices the other lower-ranking members start to withdraw from associating with him as well. Larxene must have spread word about what had happened, leading to some of the others, such as Vexen, Demyx and even the other Riku, to try to steer clear from their newest member to keep themselves from that same kind of humiliation. For the most part, Sora finds their more infrequent interactions as something of an odd relief; the less he has to contend with any of these horrible people, the better, after all. But still, one chilling thought continues to stick with him even as he returns to his normal, aimless routine, a thought hung by something he'd heard his master say to Larxene. Something that further drives in the cold reality of his fate, of how he'll never have a single chance at seeing any kind of freedom ever again:
"You are replaceable, he is not."
VII
The cold, empty walls of the Castle That Never Was start to feel more and more like a prison each day. Which is what Sora supposes it's meant to be, at least for him. He isn't allowed to wander outside its gloomy halls, not even into the equally lonely city sprawling before it. The most of something different he can get is when he stands on one of the balconies facing it, though at the risk of getting drenched in the rain that still refuses to stop almost two weeks later. He misses the sea, the sand, the waves, the wind. He craves grass and trees and birds and clouds and color. He longs to see the sun again, to feel its warmth upon his skin, to bask in the light he once used to love so dearly. He wishes to see so many worlds that he knows are so close to coming to an end, to warn their denizens of their approaching demise, to even just bid the friends he's made upon them one final goodbye he knows he'll never get.
But instead… he's stuck here in this wicked castle, surrounded by equally wicked company, under the rule of an unquestionably wicked master. He's stuck here in his new home, in what's easily become his own personal hell. A hell that burns ever hotter and becomes ever more brutal with each slowly passing, agonizing day.
He thinks he's certainly must have seen every inch of this miserable castle by the time he stumbles upon a space of new scenery. On one of the lower levels, he finds a door that leads to, of all things, an indoor garden, and a surprisingly thriving one at that. The only plants really growing here appear to be roses, but they come in just about every hue imaginable, creating a far greater range of colors than Sora has seen in weeks. The garden itself seems to carry a strangely warm and relaxing atmosphere, a far cry from the tensely chilly air filling the rest of the castle. As a result, Sora wouldn't mind turning this place into some kind of refuge or retreat away from the drudgery and darkness of the rest of his new home.
If only someone else hadn't already claimed it first.
Sora doesn't even realize he's not alone as he walks through the well-trimmed pathways, admiring the blooming blossoms on both sides. The calm quiet of the room is suddenly broken, however, by a quiet, yet cold question somewhere nearby.
"Are you lost, number thirteen?"
Sora jumps, spinning to his right to find Marluxia at the end of one of an adjacent path several feet away. His back is turned as he sits on the ground, apparently tending to the flowers if the small box of gardening tools next to him is any indication. It's a strange sight to see from one of the Organization's more savage members, but when Marluxia glares over his shoulder at him, Sora is compelled to answer his question all the same.
"Um… no, I was just-"
"Intruding upon a place you shouldn't really be?" Marluxia cuts him off as he continues pruning the weeds from the roses. "You tend to do that far more often than you should. One would think that your time here would have finally taught you some much-needed respect. But I suppose that was just wishful thinking on my part."
Sora isn't sure how to respond to such criticism, so he doesn't. Instead, he opts to try and appease the higher ranking member, though he's not sure why he's even making such an effort to begin with. Marluxia has been among those who have treated him the worst before he joined the Organization, though he's largely left him alone since he came here. Even now, his current mood seems strange, uneven, as if his mind is somewhere far away from this castle, this world. Sora, who spends so much of his time wishing he were anywhere but here, can relate, he supposes.
"Is this your garden?" he asks, glancing around again. "It's beautiful."
"Of course, it is," Marluxia remarks, not turning away from his flowers this time. "When I first joined the Organization, this room was nothing but barren, untrodden soil. So I took the opportunity to cultivate it into something more… pleasant to look at."
"And the master wasn't… mad about just taking a whole extra room of the castle for yourself?" Sora asks, strangely intrigued by the concept.
"At the time, the master was Xemnas," Marluxia informs coolly. "And no, it mattered little to him so long as I continued to attend to my duties. The same can be said for our current master. You will find, Sora, that there is little you are denied when you fall peacefully into the part you are meant to play."
Sora resists the urge to scoff at this "advice", knowing that everything he used to love was taken from him until he finally caved and took his own part on, a part he hasn't even properly played yet as far as he knows. Still, something about what Marluxia just said doesn't rub him the right way, especially as something akin to a long-buried memory springs to the front of his mind. "Then why did you and Larxene try to overthrow the Organization?"
Marluxia stills, putting down the trowel he's working with to finally gaze over his shoulder again. "How could you possibly remember that?" he asks, his voice low.
"Remember?" Sora questions, absently placing a hand against his suddenly-aching head. "I… I don't know, I just… somehow knew that you…"
He trails off with a soft groan, not even noticing as Marluxia rises to stand. "It appears the chains of your memories are still so loosely linked, number thirteen, even after all this time…" he says, his eyes narrowed as he slowly approaches the boy. "I can assure you that whatever you think might have happened in the past… is nothing more than a lie. I am a loyal servant to my Organization, and to my master. And I trust that you are too, Sora."
"I-I am," Sora agrees, as much as he wishes he didn't have to. Even so, he can sense something almost… insincere in what Marluxia is saying to him, something he can't quite shake as he tries to dig a bit deeper, even though he knows he's treading on dangerously uneven ground all the while. "It's just…the other day… Larxene told me that… that she hates it here…"
"Oh, she did?" Marluxia's eyes widen, but only for the sparsest of seconds. Sora still notices all the same. "That's quite a shame. Perhaps I ought to have a word with her to see what can be done about that-"
"You… feel the same way… don't you?" Sora presses intently. And in doing so, suddenly, he throws Marluxia, usually so calm and collected and composed, off center completely.
"Excuse me?" he scoffs almost a bit too harshly. "If you are implying that I am anything but a faithful member of this Organization, then you are wrong, number thirteen. Dead wrong."
"Faithful, maybe," Sora counters, surprisingly steady, despite the fearsome scowl Marluxia is sending his way. "But are you happy?"
"Happiness is not conducive to what we're trying to accomplish," Marluxia rebuffs dismissively. "This Organization is more than any one of its individual members. Our goal is grander than any of our meager wants and needs."
"But what happens when all of that is over?" Sora asks, a question he's been yearning to ask his master, though it's never allowed to leave his mouth in his presence. But he supposes this might as well be the next best thing when it comes to getting the answers he's been craving for so long. "What happens if we really do get control of Kingdom Hearts? What do you expect to get out of it?"
"Number thirteen," Marluxia warns icily, stepping closer to the boy. But he doesn't stop there, his curiosity overflowing to the point that he can't contain it even if he wanted to.
"Do you even think the master will actually give you what you want if we win?" he asks unwaveringly, unflinchingly. "What do any of you even want outside of helping the master get what he wants?"
"Thirteen-"
"The master didn't force all of you to join like he did with me, so why did you? Why are any of you even here?"
"That's enough!" Marluxia suddenly shouts, vines abruptly bursting out of the rose bushes all around him. They lash out at Sora, gripping his arms and legs before they throw him brutally to the far side of the garden. His burgeoning curiosity and the specks of courage that had come along with it are killed in seconds, replaced with the usual nervous fear he feels around most of his fellow members, fear that multiplies tenfold when he lands. For as soon as he glances up, Marluxia is already standing over him, his scythe in hand as he fixes the boy beneath him with a deadly glare.
"You speak of something you know nothing about, number thirteen," he hisses quietly, his vicious tone alone scaring Sora to his core. "I suggest for your own good that you put those traitorous questions of yours to rest permanently. The master has shown you far more mercy than you deserve by taking you under his wing. Perhaps you need a reminder of exactly what you really are." He raises his scythe at this and Sora cowers away from it, already anticipating the painful punishment that's to follow. But what cuts even more than that weapon ever could are the words that come right before it. "You're nothing here, Sora. Nothing more than a shadow of who you used to be."
Sora can only manage a pleading whimper as he shields himself the best he can, tightly closing his eyes as Marluxia holds his scythe high. He nearly brings it down too, ready to make this pitiful child regret ever trying to expose him, ever trying to admit something he knows could lead to his painful demise. But then, right as he moves his hands to swing his weapon…
"You have to let it go…" a whisper, faint to the point that it almost goes unheard. A flash in the empty space behind the boy. A figure, a phantom, a ghost hovering there, watching him, haunting him. A name he can't remember, a face he can't quite place, a massive hole torn deep inside his heart. "What happened to my kind and loving br–"
And just like that, it's over. She's gone. His scythe slips out of his hands, clattering to the ground with a dull thud. Sora is still shaking when he slowly opens his eyes, looking up in confusion as Marluxia backs away from him, a hand pressed against his head and against his heart. At first, he says nothing, leaving Sora to only speculate what might have shifted in a matter of mere seconds. In the end, however, Marluxia is quick to regain his composure, his shocked expression shifting into something much more cross as he dismisses his weapon and turns his back on Sora altogether.
"Leave, number thirteen," he orders rigidly as he begins to walk away. "And do not return to this garden again."
Sora obediently does so, leaving the gorgeous garden and its terrifying caretaker behind. He doesn't understand why Marluxia spared him, but that's hardly what bothers him most in the aftermath of their encounter. The other Riku, Luxord, Larxene, Marluxia… each of them have left him questioning something to some extent. Each of them have, in very different ways, left him with the notion, however small, that every member might not be on the same footing, that not all of them are equally satisfied with the roles they're expected to play. That maybe, just maybe, he isn't alone in his misery here, that he isn't the only one who hates their Organization and every awful thing it stands for.
But so what if he isn't? What do a few dissenting members matter against a master who holds such absolute power over each and every one of their hearts? What kind of chance could any of them possess at changing anything about what that master has in store for them? How can someone who has lost everything, someone who has nothing left to live for, someone like him ever hold onto any shred of hope again?
In the end, he lets those thoughts ultimately fade from his mind as he falls asleep that night. Such rebellious ideas, concerns over his fellow members, anything other than what his master requires of him, is a useless waste of time anyway. He shouldn't trouble himself with any of it, the only thing he should remotely care about is what his master commands. He came here to escape from the pain of his old life, to embrace the new life his master has so graciously given him. And as he drifts off into slumber, he dreams of that life, of the future, of when he finally will open the door.
As he dreams, he doesn't see his master standing over his bedside, a hand shrouded in darkness hovering over the boy's head, another poised just over his heart. Xehanort smiles when he senses the child's thoughts slowly starting to fall back in line, his heart obediently following suit. A truly loyal vessel, through and through.
"That's right… sleep soundly, my thirteenth…" he whispers as he brushes a few white locks out of the boy's closed eyes. He reaches down to tuck the crown charm that had slipped out from underneath Sora's coat back into place, his smile turning a touch nostalgic as he thumbs its smooth metal surface. As he decides exactly when and how to share one final secret with the boy in a castle so very full of them. "Sleep and know that your destined day is almost here…"
That's all ya get for the first round of Org XIII interactions! I'm saving the upper ranks for next time and lemme tell you... there's some REALLY interesting stuff coming with all of that. But until then please let me know what you thought of all of this in the REVIEWS! Until next time! :3
