Oh boy ok, so uh... I kept you all waiting a while huh? Sorry, life and work has been quite busy lately, and I wanted to take my time with this one to make sure it turned out right. Mostly because this is one chapter I've been waiting SO long to write and it contains something that... well, it's kinda shocking. No real warnings for it, but ummm you'll see (let's just say its one heck of a twist :3) I should also mention that this chapter doesn't really flow linear, it kinda jumps around throughout Sora's time with the Org, so yeah, just an FYI. So with that out of the way, I'll shut up and let you have at it! Let's get started!


Chapter 66: Checkmate

Let me face, let me face, let me face my fears

VI

It doesn't take long for Sora to stop counting the days.

In a world where night is always constant, there's no real point in keeping track of time anyway. The castle has no clocks, and his rigid schedule has already been decided for him every second of every day. He doesn't want to even really think about how many hours he's languished in these empty halls, how many nights he's spent forced into hollow, unrestful sleep, how many miserable meals he's had to share with his master–young or old. He doesn't want to think about how much time has passed since he lost everything, since so many people he loved so deeply died. He doesn't want to know how long he's been stuck here suffering in the shadows, how long it's been since the last time he got even so much as a glimpse of the light.

All he knows is that it's been a few weeks, maybe more, maybe even months by now. Time blends together into a dull haze here, a haze that seems to blend into the colorless walls that constantly surround him. Rare is it that anything in his dreary routine changes, though not every single day is exactly the same. Sometimes, there are other arrangements to attend outside of his daily meals with his masters. These usually come in the form of full Organization meetings within the round room, or as is the case this morning, routine inspections. It's a ritual focused solely on the Organization's lower-ranking members, meant to keep them in line and make sure they're all still a perfectly-matching set. The master and his other selves don't seem too insistent upon them, but Saïx is, mostly since he's the one to always carry them out. And suffice to say, Sora surprisingly isn't alone in thinking the entire practice is more than a bit tedious.

Inspections happen notoriously early, much to the chagrin of those required to attend them. Most of the lower-ranking members show up sleepy or grouchy or both, though Saïx still demands them to gather in one of the lower foyers and expects them each to look their best. Sora learned early on that Saïx tends to handle the castle's more "administrative" operations, and though he runs a very tight ship, most of his fellow members don't exactly appreciate his efforts. It isn't out of the ordinary for Larxene to swear tiredly at him after any given inspection, nor is it unprecedented for Demyx to practically beg him to let him skip and go back to bed. Luxord and Vexen usually bring large mugs of coffee along with them, downing them whole just short of stepping through the door. Marluxia and the other Riku are among the more composed, while Sora does the only thing he really can anymore: keep quiet and keep his head down. Keep out of the attention of his fellow members, and in doing so, keep out of any kind of trouble or torture they're all too ready to bring him.

This morning's inspection starts off as any other. Everyone arrives largely around the same time, and upon Saïx's instruction, they line up by order of rank as they usually do. They all keep quiet as he walks down the row, looking each of them over for any sort of break in protocol or uniform, and as usual, he finds nothing of note. He does briefly chastise Vexen for the vicious scowl he's sending his way, and orders Demyx to wake up when he starts to fall asleep while standing. But aside from that, this inspection goes by as quick and as simply as any other before it. Until…

"That's all for today; you're dismissed," Saïx says, his back turned to the rest of the group as they quickly start to file out. "Except-" they all stop short, a few dissenting sighs sounding as he makes them await his following instruction. "For you, number thirteen."

Sora stays where he is, his heart picking up out of fear for whatever he's about to face. A few of his fellow members send sadistic smiles his way, obviously wishing the worst for him. But as for what that worst might possibly entail, Sora has no idea. He hasn't been around Saïx enough to know what to expect from one of the Organization's more mysterious members. But he does know enough to be sure that the last thing he wants is to be on his bad side.

So he turns around to face whatever punishment he's bound to receive for whatever wrong he's unknowingly committed. Briefly, he worries that Saïx has finally managed to spot his necklace hidden just under his coat, something that obviously strays away from the Organization's strict uniform. Those worries are allayed, however when the higher-ranking member keeps his back turned to him, his gaze focused on the room's large window before him. Sora frowns, confused at the prolonged silence. But when he opens his mouth to ask why he was held back, Saïx finally speaks before he can get a single word out.

"The guardians of light…" he begins, and the mere mention of them alone sends a fresh wave of grief through Sora's heart. Outside of his masters and superiors, the other members have, at the very least, been merciful enough not to speak to him about his fallen friends. But he should have known it would only be a matter of time before that taboo topic was finally breached. "Only six of them fell at the Keyblade Graveyard. Tell me, number thirteen: who were the ones to survive?"

Initially, the question perplexes Sora, because certainly none of the lights who went to the graveyard actually lived–he saw their gruesome deaths with his very own eyes. But then he realizes Saïx is speaking of the lights who didn't go, the ones who stayed behind. The other friends he lost that day in a different way entirely.

He doesn't want to talk about them, but of course, the answer is forced out of him anyway, his voice small and soft as he slowly lists their names. "Terra, Xion, Naminé, Donald, Goofy, and Axel…"

"Axel…" Saïx echoes so quietly Sora almost can't hear him. Almost. "Where are the remaining lights now?"

"I-I… don't know," Sora shakes his head. It's a somewhat honest answer–for all he knows, the survivors stayed back at the safety Mysterious Tower while the others met their ends. But as for where they are and what they're doing currently, he has no clue. And honestly, he's almost glad for that; the less information he has, the less chances there are for him to divulge anything to his Organization that could put them in danger. The less chances he has for being responsible for their deaths too.

"Allow me to rephrase the question," Saïx turns to face him, his expression still set in a stoic mask. "Why haven't any of them come for you yet?"

"...What?" Sora asks, completely caught off guard by the question and the plethora of thoughts and feelings it stirs up.

"They're your 'friends', aren't they?" Saïx continues as he begins walking toward him. "Certainly, they must know of your fate by now. They know you're here with us. So what's taking them so long to rescue you from our grasp?"

Sora draws in a shallow breath, his mind racing to offer him some kind of answer, some kind of reason, some kind of excuse. He stumbles over each of them, words falling short as despair and doubt start to take hold. "T-they can't, they… after… after what happened t-to the others, they shouldn't… it's not safe for them to… to…"

"To fight for one of their own?" Saïx presses, raising a critical eyebrow. "The first six to fall were willing to do exactly that, to the point that they gave everything they had, all for you. What makes the rest of them incapable of doing the same?"

"B-because…" Sora starts weakly, woefully. "I… I don't want them to-"

"I think you do want them to come, number thirteen," Saïx says as he walks past him. "Despite the grave danger, you want them to valiantly charge into this castle, you want them to defeat our master, you want them to save you, just so you can feel some semblance of love again, no matter how selfish that love might be. You want them to be there for you…" his voice grows a touch more solemn, a touch… sadder almost. "Because no one else will be."

As much as Sora wants to lie and say none of that is true, he ultimately can't. Because for as much as his hope has dwindled to nearly nothing over these past several weeks, some of it still stubbornly persists, a small spark that still clings onto the idea of his surviving friends showing up to save him. The idea of being once again surrounded by those he loves instead of so many people he hates like he is now.

Except…

"They won't come for me…" Sora drops his gaze, his voice barely audible as he admits the truth he's known for far too long. The truth he has no choice but to finally accept, for however utterly agonizing it might be. "Even if I want them to, they won't…"

"Why not?" Saïx asks, as if he doesn't already know the answer.

"I-I.. they… they don't care about me," Sora shudders, unable to hold back his pressing tears when he finally says it aloud. When he finally realizes in full that Xion, Terra, Axel, Naminé, Donald and Goofy aren't coming to free him from this awful prison; they never were and they never will. "A-and if they actually did care… then they would have been here by now. But they don't, a-and I can't even blame them for it," he chokes, wrapping his arms around himself tightly. He wrenches his eyes tightly shut, to the point that he doesn't even see the shimmering spikes shoot up through the floor all around him. Despite their sudden appearance, Saïx doesn't even flinch as he keeps his focus solely on the boy. As he listens intently to every last self-loathing word. "They shouldn't after everything I've done, after all of the friends they lost because of me! It only makes sense that they'd stay away, that they wouldn't even think twice about helping me! That they'd leave me here… to finally get what I deserve."

He collapses to his knees at this, overwhelmed with sorrow as his sobs continue echoing through the room. Saïx doesn't try to stop them as he places a hand one one of the surrounding spikes, his back turned to the boy as a single, silent tear streaks down his own cheek too. "We all get what we deserve…" he whispers to himself, despondent, defeated. But in the end, he's quick to wipe away and dry his tears as soon as he reaches the same conclusion Sora already has. That certainly, nobody, not even the one he longs to see and be saved by the most, cares for him either. He probably never did in the first place.

"You're right." When Saïx finally speaks again, his voice is strangely distant, fragile even. If Sora wasn't so distracted by his own despair, he'd probably think more of it than he does. "They aren't coming. You'd do well to remember that, number thirteen. Remember how it feels to be left behind by your friends…" His hands clench into tight fists at his sides, his tone growing colder, more bitter as he heads for the door, without even bothering to spare Sora so much as a second glance. "And remember to serve the Organization that welcomed you so willingly in their stead…"

He leaves without another word. Sora isn't sure how long he simply sits there on the cold gray floor, his claws scratching its pristine surface as his tears splash down into the spaces between. Though Saïx hadn't laid a finger on him, though his words on their own hadn't even cut him that deep, he's in far more pain than he's felt in quite some time. The only thing that can compare to it is how he felt that horrible day back at the Graveyard, when he'd lost the first half of the lights before his very own eyes. But now… now he knows he's lost the rest of them too. Now he knows he'll never see the ones who survived again, or if he does, they'll undoubtedly try to destroy him for the threat he poses to the worlds, as vengeance against the loved ones they've all lost. Now he knows… no one will ever come to save him, no one will ever even try to set him free, no one wants to, no one cares.

And if nobody cares, then why should he? After all, he's exactly where he's supposed to be. He's with his Organization, with his master–he's home. A home that will never fade or fracture, with friends, a family that will never abandon him or leave him alone again.

And really… isn't that all he's ever wanted all along?


V

Sora can't help but dread any time his master calls a full meeting with the entire Organization. They're dreadfully dull affairs filled with lengthy monologues from the master, aggressively uninteresting reports from the upper ranks, and generally no information Sora can be bothered to care about. But of course, he's expected to attend each one, to sit in the lowest throne in the round room, directly across from his master himself as he's forced to listen and look as though he's deeply invested in these abysmal assemblies when, in reality, he's anything but.

Today's meeting in particular feels like it drags on for an eternity. Vexen is given time to go on about his research, Demyx awkwardly stumbles his way through patrol reports, Saïx and Xemnas tag-team a seemingly endless lecture on castle protocol, and the entire time, Sora wonders if this qualifies as some sort of bizarre form of torture. At the very least, he can take solace in the fact that he isn't the only one bored to tears; the other Riku looks half-asleep, Larxene yawns dramatically every few minutes, Luxord pulls out a deck of cards to absently shuffle through to pass the time, and Xigbar–

Xigbar has been staring straight at him for the entire meeting.

It takes Sora far too long to notice, mostly since he's made a habit of not trying to garnish any unwanted attention from his fellow members. But some way or another, he's gotten exactly that from Xigbar, who fixes him with his usual smug smirk from his much higher seat on the other side of the room. Sora isn't permitted to speak during meetings unless he's asked a direct question–something that rarely ever happens since what he has to say so rarely ever matters here. But he still manages to return the higher ranking member's piercing stare with an overtly confused, questioning glance, though of course, that earns no answers out of Xigbar. Instead, his cunning grin only widens, especially when the master notices Sora's sudden slip in focus.

"My thirteenth," Xehanort speaks up, interrupting whatever diatribe Young Xehanort had been in the middle of. Sora swiftly straightens up on the edge of his seat, his bewilderment shattered as his gaze is drawn solely to his master. Even if Xigbar's still remains on him. "Do you have something you'd like to share with your Organization?"

Sora shakes his head, his face flushing with hot embarrassment as everyone's sights settle down on him. "N-no, master," he says, mindful not to mutter, lest he be called out on that too.

Fortunately, that's enough to satiate Xehanort, at least for now. "Then I expect you to give your fellow members the respect they deserve and pay attention to what they have to say," he chastises simply, sternly. And fortunately, that's the end of it as he turns back to his younger self beside him. "Continue, please."

"Of course," Young Xehanort complies with his usual smooth demeanor. "As I was saying, despite much research, the nature of the thirteen Keys largely remains a mystery to us. Their origins, how they were forged, by who and why, are all questions we may never have answers for."

"Say…" Xigbar speaks up, one of the few members actually allowed to do so during meetings. "If we're looking for answers about those Keys, then why don't we ask the one who actually found every last one of them?"

"A novel idea…" Xehanort muses, stroking his beard. Sora tenses when his master's golden gaze finds him once more, the rest of the Organization following suit to curiously state at him in turn. "Enlighten us, Sora: during your travels, did you happen to gather any unique information regarding the Keys to the Kingdom that we might not yet know?"

He swallows hard, his claws digging into his coat as he bunches it up in his lap. "I… n-no," he replies truthfully, just as in the dark about the mysterious Keys as everyone else seems to be. "I only knew how to find them… I don't know anything about where they came from."

"Truly?" Xehanort raises a suspicious eyebrow. "Nothing at all?"

"...No, nothing," Sora reports anxiously, already expecting to be reamed out or punished for his lack of a useful response. "I'm… s-sorry, master," he says somewhat voluntarily, if only to lessen whatever that punishment might be.

"As am I," Xehanort scowls, all but turning his nose up at the boy. "Despite how 'special' you are, you seem to know so frustratingly little of your own destiny. How disappointing."

Sora frowns, internally begging his master to elaborate on what such a vague statement might mean. But his pleading thoughts go unanswered as Xehanort decides to bring this meeting to a surprisingly abrupt end. "That will be all," he rubs the bridge of his nose almost tiredly, a rare slip in the master's otherwise constant composure. "Return to your posts."

And just like that, the meeting is over. The master doesn't even make his usual verbose proclamation about the greatness of darkness or the glory of his Organization before he uses a dark corridor to disappear. The others follow soon after, teleporting out of the round room, and leaving the only one among them not permitted to use such magic behind. At least at first.

Sora stands up on his chair, sighing as he stares down at the ground several feet below. Getting down from his throne is a frustrating, often painful ordeal, one that he wishes his stupid, useless wings would make just a little easier. This time, however, he finds he doesn't have to haphazardly leap to the floor; this time, a dark corridor suddenly opens up and swiftly takes him down there instead.

He blinks, disoriented as the darkness clears to leave him standing on the central platform. He knows he wasn't the one to summon that portal–he's tried, simply out of curiosity alone, but his master's orders bar him from them, lest he create some kind of escape from their dark domain. But when he looks around to see who might've summoned this dark corridor for him… he realizes that one of the chairs above him is still occupied. And from it, Xigbar is still smiling down solely at him.

"Ok, seriously?" Sora huffs angrily. He knows he shouldn't take such a harsh tone with one of the upper ranks, but he can't help it. After the meeting he's just had, he's far more than a bit miffed. "Why do you keep looking at me like that? What do you want?!"

"Aw, what?" Xigbar perches his hands under his chin. "No 'thank you' for helping you down?"

"Tch, ok, thank you," Sora scoffs as he offers him something of a mock bow. "For embarrassing me in front of the master–twice!"

"Huh, didn't know you cared so much about what the master thinks of you, Sora," Xigbar's smirk widens, clearly satisfied in catching the boy saying something he didn't mean to.

"I-I don't–I-I mean, I do–I-" Sora stammers, his heart and mind contradicting each other. In the end though, he lets neither of them win as he does all he can to sharply change the subject. "Ugh, whatever. If that's all you wanted to talk about, then I'm going back upstairs."

"Not so fast there, kiddo," Xigbar leaps down from his chair, gliding down to make a slow and graceful landing. Sora sighs, forced to stop in his tracks and engage with the sharpshooter, as much as he'd really rather be doing anything but. "The old man isn't here; you can drop the 'scared and stupid' act you put on around him." His usually casual tone turns far more serious as he steps closer to the bewildered boy. "I know you know more than you let on, Sora."

"...About what?" he asks, taking a shaky step back. "The Keys? I wasn't lying to the master–I really don't know that much about them! Whatever you think I might be able to tell you, I can't, ok? Because I just don't know!"

Xigbar narrows his eyes at him, staying silent for a moment or two. Only now has Sora realized he's standing on the edge of the platform, yet some force is keeping him from falling backward over the edge of it entirely. He's certain Xigbar has something to do about it, but that's the least of his worries as the other member towers over him, his voice sounding so different than it usually does when he speaks, Somehow sounding older, sounding wiser… sounding like it's supposed to belong to someone else entirely. "No… I don't think that's it…" he says quietly, his golden gaze almost seeming to search Sora for something. "I think… you do know… You just don't remember."

Sora lets out a harsh breath, absolutely lost at this point. "Remember what?" he bristles, wishing he could call upon his Keyblade, his magic, anything else to escape this strange, downright unnerving encounter. "How can I remember something I never even knew in the first place?!"

Xigbar raises an eyebrow, now apparently confused himself. Even so, he finally backs off a bit, but his expression remains stoic and severe as he continues staring down at the boy before him. "...The old man hasn't told you what you really are yet, has he?" he asks, a question that initially leaves Sora speechless.

"...What?" he barely manages to ask as soon as he finds his voice again. "W-what do you mean…? Do you…" he draws in a slow breath, his mind racing as he tries to piece it all together. As he realizes he could finally, finally be on the verge of hearing the answers he's been longing for since the second any of this began. "Do you know… why he chose me? What he wants to do with me?"

Xigbar finally grins again, easily picking his usual snide attitude back up as if he'd never dropped it at all. "Sure do," he crosses his arms and begins to walk away. "Unfortunately, I have a strict 'no-spoilers' policy in place. You're either gonna have to wait to hear it from the old man or find a way to put the pieces together yourself. But since you're not the sharpest Keyblade in the castle, Sora, I have a feeling you might wanna go with the former option."

"Wha–hey!" Sora protests, offended both by such a cutting remark and by the lack of any concrete answers. He hurries to follow after Xigbar to get those answers, though he's forced to starkly stop in his tracks when the higher ranking member suddenly glances back over his shoulder at him. That strangely serious look has returned, his entire cool-headed manner replaced with something that frightens Sora… and yet… it feels strangely… familiar at the same exact time.

"Just be careful, 'your majesty'," he says as he summons a dark corridor before him. As he leaves Sora with a single, simple warning that gives him far more questions than he thought he could ever have. Far more questions than he knows he'll ever be able to find the answers to. "And whatever you do, don't let him steal your crown."


IV

Despite the heavy hold they have over each of their subordinates' hearts, Sora finds he doesn't see his masters or superiors that much outside of their regular meals and meetings. They mostly leave the other members to their own devices, though they do dole out assignments and tasks for them to fill up what would otherwise be endless idle time. Some of them even get to leave the castle, something Sora can't help but be envious of as he slowly finds himself starting to forget what anything beyond the World that Never Was even looks like. But when it comes to what the higher-ups expect of him… it's surprisingly little. His only real order is to simply attend to whatever needs his fellow members might have; sometimes, this equates to days where there's little for him to do, and other times, it means exhausting hours filled with countless errands and chores thrust unfairly upon his shoulders. But he carries them out dutifully, largely because he has no choice to do otherwise. He does as his Organization commands without fail, and in doing so, he shows his loyalty–however forced and false it might be–through and through.

But even that loyalty isn't enough to satisfy all of them.

A sharp burst of fear fills Sora when returns to his room one night after dinner to find one of his superiors is already there waiting for him. It's not like either of them to come calling like this, in his own quarters at such a late hour of the evening. But even so, Ansem stands before the room's small window anyway, his back turned as Sora remains in the doorway, wondering what kind of trouble he's somehow gotten himself into this time. Trouble that he could have never anticipated… and that he should have seen coming a mile away.

"...Superior?" Sora speaks first when Ansem remains still and silent for a noticeably long time.

"Number thirteen," he regards the boy dryly, barely even glancing over his shoulder at him. "I trust you know why I'm here."

"I… don't," Sora shakes his head, genuinely afraid to find out.

"...Step inside then," Ansem orders simply. "And close the door behind you."

Sora does as he's told, worry and fear mingling inside of his stomach to the point that it quickly makes him sick. But of course, he knows there will be no escape from whatever it is he's about to face; there never is. "Remind me, Sora," Ansem finally turns around, his expression icy, authoritative. "What is your purpose?"

"My… purpose…?" he starts to ask, before the rest follows. He doesn't even try to fight against saying this time; it's simply not worth the effort anymore. "Is… to live for my Organization… and my master…"

"And yet… you aren't living for us, are you, Sora?" Ansem questions as he begins to walk toward him. "Even now that you're among our ranks… though your body does our bidding and your lips speak our truths… your thoughts betray your true intentions. Those thoughts ring with almost constant longing for something you know you can't have anymore, number thirteen. Longing… for the lights."

The mere moment the lights are mentioned, Sora feels as though the ground has been pulled out right from under him. He hates how little privacy he has here, how he isn't safe inside his own room, he isn't safe inside his own thoughts, he isn't safe anywhere. Yet even then, another thought floods his mind, one he already knows will be seen as rebellious, downright traitorous even. But it still pours out of his mouth far before he can stop it all the same. "I-I can't stop thinking about them," he says, determined and despondent all at once. "I won't. Not as long as I still… l-love them…"

"You still cling onto your pitiful feelings for them? Even now?" Ansem scowls, raising a critical eyebrow. "Even when the two you claimed to love most are nothing more than mere memories, fading more and more inside your own mind with each passing day?"

Even though he knows he shouldn't, especially not against a superior, Sora still finds some shred of stubbornness left in him to argue anyway. "They won't fade if I hold onto-"

"Hold onto what?" Ansem starkly interrupts, coming to a stop mere inches in front of him. "The lights you loved so dearly are dead, Sora. And the ones that remain don't care for you in the slightest–you said so yourself. Purge whatever meaningless thoughts remain of them from your mind and move on. Your master and your superiors demand it."

Sora says nothing, his face hot, his gaze fixed to the floor. His hands curl into tight fists at his sides, his claws piercing through his gloves as he resists in the only way he can. As he thinks of the lights, his love for them, and literally nothing else. He doesn't know if his superiors can see those thoughts the way his masters can, but his cross, bitter expression alone is likely enough to convey to Ansem exactly what he's doing.

"Clearly, you require yet another reminder," he perches a hand under Sora's chin to draw his stubborn scowl up toward him. "Of why you were never meant to be with them. Why it's far better for you to be here with us where you belong." Ansem lifts his free hand, using magic to cast an illusion on the far side of the room. An illusion, or rather, the shadow of a memory Sora still wishes he could somehow forget.

He can't make out either of their features, but their silent silhouettes are enough for him to make out himself and Riku. His breath is caught in his throat as he watches his shadow self haphazardly lash out in fear and fury, swinging his Keyblade wildly as Riku doesn't attempt to fight back. Tears are already brewing in his eyes when he watches himself cast a wide spread of illusory spikes, cruelly entrapping Riku within them. He wants nothing more than to look away, knowing all too well what comes next. But his superior's power keeps him frozen in place, his eyes wrenched wide open to witness what's haunted his dreams ever since it happened.

Just like before, it happens far too fast and far too slowly all at once. Just like before, he raises his hand and brings it down without purpose, without thinking, without any kind of restraint. Just like before… his claws strike Riku squarely across the face, cutting far deeper than he ever thought he could. Cutting straight through both of their hearts in the process.

It's only as this shadowy illusion vanishes that Sora is allowed to collapse to the ground, all but crushed by his own remnant grief. His superior is more than glad to let him show his misery freely, probably watching his suffering with a smug smile. This is torture, Sora realizes somewhere between his tears, torture inflicted upon him simple because those above him decided that his very thoughts are wrong. Because his master decided that he wants to suppress and sequester the only thing he doesn't have absolute power over, the only thing Sora can still even remotely control.

And of course, that only makes Sora want to fight to keep that control even more.

"Y-you… you lied, superior…" he begins, his voice low, his claws digging into the floor.

"What did you just say?" Ansem hisses, sending a brutal spark of pain spreading through Sora's heart for even saying such a traitorous thing.

But even so, he pushes past that pain, just as he has so many times before. It isn't something he's had to do lately as "obedient" as he's been to his Organization. But right now, that obedience couldn't matter in the slightest. He has to set the record straight; he has to convince himself, if no one else, that the people he cared about most still cared about him in return. "R-Riku… forgave me…" he mutters between gritted teeth. "You told me he never would… but he did…"

He'd hoped that this would somehow be enough to shatter his superior's cold confidence, but if anything, it only serves to bolster instead. "Did he?" Ansem asks, his vicious glare turning into an equally vicious smile. "Or did he simply want you to believe that he did?"

"N-no…" Sora shudders against the stabbing anguish in his chest. As well as the rising doubt within his heart. "H-he meant it, he-"

"He did the same thing the rest of the lights did when you returned to them," Ansem says unsympathetically. "They put on a show. The truth of it is, they were the ones who lied to you, Sora. They lied to you, deceived you, tricked you into thinking they were welcoming you back warmly. And as desperate as you were for their adoration, for any shred of kindness or affection at all, you bought into their deception blindly."

"They… they wouldn't-"

"They did," Ansem cuts him off, crushing his heart with even more unspeakable pain in the process. "Anything to get you back within their grasp. Anything so they could use you as leverage against us…"

He raises his hand again to create another shadowy illusion, this time of the entire group of guardians that had gone to the Graveyard on that fateful day. Though they're nothing more than featureless silhouettes, Sora's heart rings with fresh grief at the mere sight of them, grief that scorches him raw when he hears Riku's voice come out of one of those silhouettes, when he hears what he'd had to say mere seconds before he'd arrived.

"If you call off the Keyblade War, then we'll let you have Sora."

"We'll let you have Sora."

"We'll. Let. You. Have. Sora."

It echoes several times over, louder and more damning each time so it can fully sink in. So Sora can clearly hear the crux of the plan he hadn't been allowed to know about. He'd initially thought he'd been kept out of the loop to keep his master the same way. But now… now he knows the true reason why. A reason he still desperately doesn't want to believe, despite whatever evidence his superior might have to support it.

"No…" he whimpers as the shadows disappear. "That's not… T-they said they wanted to… save me…"

"They wanted to sell you to us," Ansem corrects coldly. "Fortunately for you, Sora, the master was not interested in making such an underhanded transaction. He wanted you to come to us on your own terms, not to be bartered and traded away like the mere tool the lights always viewed you as. We gave you the power to choose when the lights only ever aimed to take that power, that freedom away from you."

Sora doesn't even have it in him to point out how backward and hypocritical such a claim is. Instead, his mind continues echoing with what Riku had said, with a kind of sorrow he can't shake no matter how much he tries to convince himself it's just a lie. Because really, it just makes far too much sense; the guardians of light's mission was to protect the worlds above all else. Worlds that a prospective Keyblade War would put in immense, unstoppable danger. So why wouldn't they use him, the one thing his master had wanted above all else, as a bargaining chip to prevent that war? Why wouldn't they give him up if it meant the worlds would survive? Why wouldn't they trade him away to make sure all of existence is spared?

He knows his superior likely wants him to be angry, to even go as far as hating his fallen friends for how little they valued him. But… if he's being perfectly honest, he agrees with their decision. He laments the fact that their plan had failed. Because maybe if it had, then the worlds would at the very least finally be safe instead of hanging by the precarious thread they're on now. A thread that his master could decide to cut any day at any time for any reason at all. Much like his thirteenth vessel's life, it seems.

"Let this serve as a valuable lesson to you, number thirteen," Ansem concludes as he finally turns to leave. "Think no more of the guardians of light–dead or alive. Because I can guarantee, they certainly aren't thinking of you."

With that, he simply leaves the boy lying on the floor of his own room, in silent tears and unshakable sadness. And the same sort of ceaseless, stubborn longing that had caused this tortuous encounter in the first place. Longing for the one thing his Organization, his superiors, even his master will never be able to take away from him no matter how hard they try. The only thing he knows he'll never, ever be able to get back no matter how much he might miss them.

For the friends he'd loved and still loves so dearly… even if they never truly loved him in return.


III

Despite being cut essentially from the same cloth, Sora finds there's quite a striking difference between how his two superiors treat him. Of course, both Ansem and Xemnas are undoubtedly hateful and cruel to him–likely as some form of revenge for how he'd defeated them both before. But where Ansem is typically blunt and straightforward in his dealings with Sora, Xemnas tends to be much more cryptic and vague. It's a trait that clearly carries over from his somebody; both Xehanorts have a penchant for speaking in metaphors and riddles that usually leave Sora lost and unnerved. Xemnas is much of the same way, though his bizarre behavior often has more of a clearer point or purpose than his masters'. Except for today.

When Xemnas summons him and orders him to follow him up to the castle's levels, Sora has no way of knowing what might happen. A familiar kind of fear settles over him as he remembers what happened the last time he'd gone up to to the higher towers, when Larxene had murdered him and left him temporarily blind in the aftermath of bringing him back. Xemnas' intent is probably much less violent, but Sora can never be too sure when it comes to his superiors. Not when they can act perfectly cordial and calm to him one moment, and then turn around and brutally tear his heart and body to shreds the next.

"Quicken your pace, number thirteen," Xemnas says, not even glancing back at him as they approach a wide platform on the castle's roof. "My time is valuable; I'd prefer not to waste it waiting on you."

Sora does as he says, keeping his head down as he walks a bit faster behind his superior. He's a bit surprised that Xemnas has cast a shield of darkness wide enough to cover them both from the nonstop rain outside. He nearly feels compelled to thank his superior for letting him step outside without getting drenched, though he narrowly stops himself before any such gratitude can slip out. The only ones he pays that kind of willing respect to now are his masters and his masters alone. His masters, who he's never been able to win against, over his superiors who he had once bested what feels like a lifetime ago.

"Tell me, Sora–and please, do be honest," Xemnas comes to a stop in the center of the platform. Sora does the same only a few paces behind him. "The Kingdom Hearts I tried to create with the former Organization XIII… what did you think of it when you saw it?"

It's amazing how quickly that question alone throws him back to another time entirely, the last time he'd stood in this very same spot. He'd been almost a completely different person back then, bereft of the black coat and monstrous features he now bears, with a Keyblade in hand and valiant light in his heart. But if there's one thing he can remember clearly, it's how he felt when he looked up into the now-empty sky, when he saw a bright heart hanging high above him, one that called so many other lost hearts toward it. One that diverted their path from where they were actually meant to go, one that stood as a twisted, tawdry mockery of the real thing.

"I… I hated it…" Sora says quietly, staring up at the spot where that disgusting heart used to hover.

"Why?" Xemnas finally looks back at him, his expression neutral, yet curious all the same.

Sora takes a moment, narrowing his eyes at the skies as his hands clench into fists at his sides, a strange kind of anger welling up inside of him that he can scarcely understand the source of. "Because," he begins, his eyes inexplicably glowing just a bit brighter, his voice sounding just a bit like many others beyond his own. "It was a fake… a sham… a shadow… of what the Kingdom is supposed to be…"

"So if what we had made was a mere fraud," Xemnas turns to him fully, his gaze focused intently on the boy. "Then what do you say Kingdom Hearts is 'supposed' to be?"

By now, Sora's eyes are fully glowing, one pure black, the other pure white. Xemnas smiles when he sees it, fascinated by what's so subtly unfolding before him, what he's managed to awaken with a few simple well-asked questions alone. "Kingdom Hearts…" Sora speaks, his voice–voices soft yet strong all at once. "Is light…"

Xemnas' steady smile is quick to slip upon hearing this familiar claim. In lack of the results he'd wanted, he steps forward, towering over Sora to block his view of the sky. It's enough to bring the boy out of his peculiar trance, a small gasp slipping out of him as his eyes and his voice both return to normal. As he's drawn out of whatever spell a myriad of long-dormant memories had held him under.

"You're so very close… yet still so far, it seems…" Xemnas shakes his head, scowling. "Kingdom Hearts is a conglomerate of every heart that has ever existed; it is the source of life itself, sheer, raw, untapped power in its truest form. I had thought that you, Sora, of all people, would know that it is far more than simply 'light'."

If that's what you think Kingdom Hearts is, then you know nothing about it… his thoughts, his heart to be exact, protests, but of course, he isn't permitted to say a single word aloud. Instead, he simply stands there, wondering why his superior even bothered to bring him up here to ask him such questions, only to condemn his answers to them. It's probably meant to demean or humiliate him in some way, and yet… there seems to be something more to this encounter. Something he can't quite place, something that frightens him to his very core.

Xemnas eventually turns away from him as he steps forward to the center of the platform once more. He uses this juncture to change the subject, though what he shifts to next is almost just as confounding to Sora. "Did you know that most of your fellow members chose to become Nobodies again, number thirteen?" he asks. By all accounts, Sora can't say that he did know that; why anyone would ever want to be a Nobody is beyond him. "We gave them the freedom to make that decision when they joined our ranks, and a vast majority decided to cast off their newly-returned humanity and slip back into place here among the shadows. They decided to cast off their humanity… as well as their hearts."

Sora frowns, confused as a sudden memory occurs to him, something that casts such a claim into a very dubious light. "But… Nobodies do have hearts, you told me-"

"They have hearts, yes," Xemnas cuts him off. "But they lack the very thing that makes a heart complete: the capacity to feel true, genuine emotions."

"They have emotions, though," Sora argues, shaking his head. He's been on the receiving end of plenty of their more negative emotions to know that much.

"No," Xemnas counters coolly. "They mimic the emotions they felt in their past lives: fear, anger, grief, it's all nothing more than a facade. Not a single one of those emotions is anything close to real, no matter how convincing it might come across."

Despite how staunch and absolute his superior's claims are, Sora still finds himself hard-pressed to believe them. Especially when he considers a few former Nobodies very close to his own heart. "That's not true," he says, knowing he shouldn't push the matter. Knowing he shouldn't test his superior any further, and yet… "Roxas, Xion, and Naminé all had emotions when they were Nobodies. They felt pain and sadness and love and it was all real. I know it was!"

Xemnas glances back at him again, this time rolling his eyes dryly. "Xion wasn't a true Nobody–she was merely a replica. Though one could argue that a replica's feelings are fabricated every bit as much as a Nobody's. When it comes to Roxas and Naminé though… you're right. Their emotions were nearly genuine. And the reason why that is lies solely with you, Sora."

"What?" Sora asks, unsure of how he fits into this equation.

"Both Roxas and Naminé were formed from your heart, a heart that's quite unlike any other," Xemnas turns, smiling once more. A smile that sends a nervous shudder streaking through Sora as he tries to make sense of everything he's telling him. "A heart that's forged connections with so many others throughout your entire life, a heart that's in tune with its emotions enough to find thirteen long-hidden Keys tied to those very emotions. A heart that can create two very special Nobodies with hearts that felt those emotions almost as genuinely as you do, Sora… Almost."

Sora wants to ask what he means by that 'almost', why he still refuses to see Nobodies, the very thing his superior himself is, as nothing more than emotionless shells of the people they once were. But the question that ends up coming out is much different, though every bit as pertinent, by far. "Why is my heart so 'special' in the first place?"

What makes his heart so special, what makes him so unique, what made him a target for his master, for his Organization, for so many others out there too? Why is he the way that he is, how did this all come to be? It's something he's longed to know from the very beginning, something he knows his superiors and his masters have the answer to. But like everything else, those answers aren't something they're willing to give him.

"Isn't that the essential question?" Xemnas muses, still grinning knowingly. "Perhaps, if you're patient, Sora, you might soon find out."

"But-"

"Silence," Xemnas raises a hand to stop any of the countless questions he still has. "I've heard all I needed to for now. Return to your duties, number thirteen."

Sora has no choice but to comply, though he still manages to let out a small, disappointed sigh as he turns to head back inside. Still, even without the answers he's so desperately been seeking, what his superior has to say to him as he walks away stays with him long after they part ways. It stays with him as he continues to wonder exactly why he's here. Exactly what he is to begin with.

"And so the true nature of the heart remains a mystery… " Xemnas muses as he looks up to the empty sky. A sky that, if all goes according to plan, will soon be filled with the glory of Kingdom Hearts once again, in this world… and in every other. "But worry not, Sora. You are the key that will unlock all of the answers that lie behind it."


II

The first face Sora sees every single morning is Young Xehanort's.

Since his masters hold power over when he sleeps, they also decide when he wakes, which is largely the same time every day. It's early, far earlier than Sora would like, but he figures he'll start to get used to it eventually. What takes much longer to get used to though are his daily breakfasts with his younger master.

Though every meal is somewhat different, there are a few constants that run through each of them. First is that the food is always delicious, that there's always more than enough of it to go around, and that Sora is allowed to eat as much as he can, which he always does, lest he go hungry until dinner. Second is something far stranger though: the fact that each morning, Young Xehanort greets him with a cordial smile. The fact that each morning, Young Xehanort carries on actual conversations with him, instead of merely speaking to him. The fact that each morning… Young Xehanort treats him with something that almost feels similar to kindness. Almost.

He's caught off guard by it as early as the very first meal they share. He arrives at the assigned dining room, which he finds out is one of the best the castle has to offer, not that that means much to Sora. Still, the table is fully set with beautifully-crafted and incredibly-smelling food, and that alone is enough to lure him in. Even if he stops short just shy of the door frame as soon as he spots his master standing at the window just beyond it.

"Good morning, Sora," Young Xehanort turns to him with a smile on his face and a steaming mug in his hands. Sora stands stiff, only slightly bowing out of involuntary respect for his master. He only briefly glances up to see Young Xehanort has moved to the other end of the relatively short table, already in the process of taking his seat as he nods to allow Sora to do the same. "I trust you slept well after last night's festivities?"

"I-I did," Sora says, and it's not a lie. Mostly because he'd been forced to sleep and that sleep had been forcibly restful. Even if he still feels exhausted after everything all the same.

"I'm glad to hear that," Young Xehanort keeps his smile as he takes a sip of his coffee. "Please, feel free to eat as much as you'd like," he motions to the vast spread between them. "I had it prepared especially for you, after all."

"Thank you… master," Sora says quietly, deciding to be conservative with his first plate. Partially because he fears being punished if he takes too much and partially because he suspects any food they give him could very well be poisoned somehow. So he helps himself to a small spoonful of eggs, a strip of bacon or two, and a small slice of toast. He eyes the kettle of hot chocolate placed closed to him longingly, but ultimately settles on a glass of water instead. The last thing he wants to be reminded of is the last time he enjoyed his favorite drink, the last breakfast he'd eaten across from his beloved mother instead of his merciless master.

"I'm interested to know, Sora," Young Xehanort begins between bites of his own meal. "How does it feel for you now that you're finally here? Now that you're finally home where you belong?"

Sora's awestruck when he realizes his words are allowed to be his own, in the presence of his master, no less. But he takes the opportunity given to him to speak freely. To let him know just how miserable he truly is. "This place… isn't my home," he shakes his head sadly. "I don't want to be here…"

"But you came here nonetheless, on your own accord," Young Xehanort replies, calmly, surprisingly not angrily. "You came here to be with us, to have a fresh start, to lead a new life. And it is my aim to make sure that you eventually find peace in that new life. To help you, in time, come to see this castle, this Organization, as your true home after all."

"Y-you mean you're going to force me to feel that way, aren't you?" Sora dares to ask, even though he knows he shouldn't."

"I have no power over your emotions," Young Xehanort admits plainly. "But even if I did, I would not force such feelings upon you. You've been through such great suffering, Sora, and so very much of it has been self-inflicted. What purpose would it serve me to prolong that suffering any further? What good would it do for me to inflict any kind of pain or sorrow onto my most valuable asset, the Organization's most precious jewel?"

Sora can scarcely believe what he's hearing. He lets out an indignant scoff in spite of himself, his frustration rising to the surface far too fast for him to stop it. "You already put me through so much pain, what does causing me any more matter to you?" he asks, a hostile edge on his voice that he knows he'll be punished for. And yet… that punishment never comes.

Instead, Young Xehanort remains silent for a moment or two, his hands wrapped around his mug, his expression set into a thoughtful frown. If Sora didn't know any better, he'd almost think he looked… sympathetic; as if someone like Xehanort is even capable of such a feeling. "Sora," he begins evenly. "Can you tell me of any occasion in which I've personally caused you harm?"

"Of course, I can!" Sora retorts sharply. "You took over my heart! You forced me to run away from my friends! You're the reason why I'm here in the first place!"

Young Xehanort pauses to take a long sip of his coffee, seemingly not impacted by such damning accusations at all. When he speaks again, he's still just as calm as before, showing no signs of offense at his thirteenth's sudden outburst. "My elder self is responsible for most of that, not I," he says simply. "So in a sense, they're wrongs I haven't committed against you yet. I don't believe it's very fair of you to accuse me of something I haven't even done, Sora."

"But you helped him," Sora retorts rigidly, gripping the edge of the table tightly.

"I helped you," Young Xehanort replies without skipping a beat. "I helped you realize you weren't where you belonged. I helped you onto the path you were supposed to take from the start. I helped you in ways your former friends never could have. And speaking of those friends, I didn't 'force' you to flee from them. That's a decision that, if I recall correctly, Sora, you made for yourself. I merely offered the suggestion, and you took it. Am I wrong?"

"W-well… no, but-"

"Then tell me, Sora, what have I, not my elder self, not any of your fellow members, but me alone–what have I ever done to hurt you?" Young Xehanort presses his question once more. And this time… Sora finds he doesn't have much of an answer to it.

Because really… how has Young Xehanort hurt him? He hasn't laid a finger on him physically in a very long time, he hasn't even used his hold over his heart to cause him any sort of severe pain lately. If anything… the young master has helped him far more, from delivering food to him when he was starving, to helping him escape Maleficent's goons, to even coming to collect him at the Graveyard when he'd been left heartbroken and alone. Even how he speaks to him is far more pleasant and amiable than most of his fellow members, far better than the cold, authoritative manner his elder master takes with him, that's for sure. And even now, he sits across from Young Xehanort, sharing the same table, eating the same food, existing on the same level as someone he'd thought he'd be nothing more than lowly slave to. It's a puzzling dynamic, one that Sora can't make much sense out of when he considers how horribly he's been treated by all of the others. When he wonders exactly what his young master has to gain by at the very least pretending to be so kind.

"I… I can't think of anything…" he finally answers, his anger all but diminished as he looks down in defeat.

"Exactly," Young Xehanort agrees. "And believe it or not, I have no intentions of harming you in the future. As you've heard before, you're our Organization's most important member–and I'm of the opinion that after all you've been through, and after how long it took for you to finally find your way here, you deserve to be treated as such."

Sora lets out another small huff, not fully buying such a claim as he glances away. "I don't think any of the others would agree with you…." he mutters crossly, already anticipating all of the torment he's bound to receive from them now that he's here.

Young Xehanort clearly reads that thought along with his disgruntled claim and of course, he wastes no time speaking to it. "You've no reason to worry about your fellow members," he assures smoothly. "It's quite a pity that so many of them seem to harbor some level of petty hatred toward you, Sora. They can't see just how special, how essential you truly are. So if any of them makes the mistake of treating you poorly, then I will take care of it on your behalf. I promise."

"Y-you will?" Sora asks, mystified by such a thought. By the idea that someone, anyone would want to fight in his corner here. That his master would be the one to volunteer to do exactly that.

"Of course," Young Xehanort nods, smiling once more. "Anything to ensure that you're safe and happy here, Sora."

"...I doubt I could ever be happy here…" Sora says, his voice soft and full of sorrow.

"...We'll see," Young Xehanort replies vaguely before he rises from his seat. "For now, I'm afraid I must cut our meal short. I have other matters I must see to this morning. Still, I look forward to meeting with you again tomorrow, Sora."

"...Ok," Sora says simply as he gets up. He isn't sure what else to say, how to really feel at all as he starts to leave the room. Still, he does stop short at the door, swallowing hard as he offers his master a slight show of gratitude. One that he almost genuinely means in the same way his master is almost genuinely benevolent to him. "Um… thank you for breakfast," he says with a bit of a short, awkward bow before he leaves.

Young Xehanort holds his easy, nearly earnest smile as he sees his vessel off. As he makes sure he has that vessel right where he wants him, right where he needs to be. "Anything for you, my thirteenth," he says, drawing a silver charm out of his pocket as soon as Sora is out of the room. A charm that's only fit for a king. "Anything for you…"


Several more breakfasts follow in a similar fashion for the first week or so. They quickly become a regular part of Sora's new routine here, a routine that's otherwise aimless and empty save for the meals he shares with his masters. And while he never really looks forward to breakfasts, at the very least, they're far less stressful than dinners are. Largely because, for the most part, Young Xehanort allows him to speak freely, while with Xehanort, he's rarely allowed to speak at all. There's a stark contrast between how the two treat him, despite the fact that they're essentially the exact same person. And though he still fears them both equally, Sora can't deny that he's starting to ease up when it comes to his younger master. That he's almost starting to feel… comfortable around him, as strange as that might seem.

Sora is usually never late to his morning meals with his young master. Largely because each day when he awakes, his heart compels him to go to whichever room where Young Xehanort is waiting for him, all but forcing him out of bed and out into the castle halls. His master's silent command over his body is so strong that he's hard-pressed to resist it now, and now that he's here, he doesn't see much of a reason to even try. But there does come a morning where even that command isn't enough to force him out of his room; even his master's power over him isn't enough to win out against his insurmountable, unshakable grief.

When he doesn't arrive for breakfast as scheduled, it doesn't take long for Young Xehanort to come calling. Sora feels his heart burn with agony as a result of his disobedience, but even that can scarcely compare to the raw sorrow shooting through it with each and every tear he sheds. He sits on his bed, his knees pulled tight to his chest as a noisy storm rages just outside his window, shimmering spikes rising from the otherwise pristine floor all around him. By the time his younger master arrives, there's barely any space for him to maneuver between them. But he does so anyway, easily able to read the source of his vessel's despair and already having a plan of how he's going to finally nip this recurring problem in the bud once and for all.

"Running late for something?" he asks as the boy glances up with a startled gasp, his eyes still red with tears.

"M-master!" he exclaims, racing to wipe his face dry. "I'm so sorry, I-I was just-"

"I know," Young Xehanort interrupts him upon reading his thoughts and the sheer sorrow ringing through them. "It appears that you're homesick for a home that is no longer your own."

Sora sniffles, rubbing his face once more as he glances down guiltily. "I just… I miss the islands so so much… I wish… I-I could see them… one last time…"

"...Is that all you want?" Young Xehanort raises an eyebrow. "Very well then. Perhaps a change in scenery might finally be enough to raise your broken spirits."

"W-what?" Sora starts, suddenly feeling compelled to stand. He does so, watching as his master raises a hand, allowing dark magic to swell around it. All at once, the cold white walls around them fade away, replaced by bright, clear blue skies and soft white sand. Sora gasps when he hears and sees the crystal blue ocean gently swelling to the shore beside him, tall palm trees swaying in the breeze. He feels that breeze every bit as much as he feels the sun on his face, as much as he smells the salty sea air, as much as his heart sings and sobs all at once at the bittersweet realization that he's home. He's back on the islands, back on the shores he spent so much of his childhood upon, back in the very place his life began and yet…

Without any of his friends or family to welcome him, to laugh with him or to love him… it all rings so strangely hollow. To the point that as much as it might look like home… it barely feels like home at all.

"It doesn't feel quite like the Destiny Islands because, in truth, it isn't," Young Xehanort answers the question he hasn't asked yet. "This is but an illusion, created from both of our memories of this place. But it's suitable enough of a setting for us to enjoy this morning's meal, don't you agree, Sora?"

Sora frowns, confused, at least until he watches his young master easily conjure up a full picnic breakfast on the sand before them. Its spread is more or less the same as what they usually eat, though set against the backdrop of this picturesque paradise, it feels so much more casual. It almost reminds Sora of the pleasant picnics he used to share on this same shore alongside his parents when he was little… at least until he sits down and remembers his master is the one joining him for this meal instead.

"It truly is beautiful here," Young Xehanort begins the conversation as he gazes out at the morning sea. "I suppose I can see why you miss it so much, Sora."

Sora hesitates, knowing he shouldn't ask the question that comes into his mind first, and yet, his long standing curiosity wins out in the end all the same. "...Do you ever miss it?"

Young Xehanort closes his eyes, not answering for a moment or two before an odd sort of smile plays upon his lips. "Perhaps occasionally. But I've seen so many other shores in so many other worlds that make this one seem so dull by comparison."

"I've seen a lot of different shores too," Sora counters, pulling his knees to his chest once more as he lets out a wistful sigh. "But this one's still my favorite…"

"One would argue that's less because of this world itself and more due to the memories you have tied to it," Young Xehanort rationalizes evenly. "That's where our experiences of this island differ, Sora. While you hold plenty of fond memories to keep you anchored to these tiny, insignificant islands, I found nothing meaningful to keep me here." He pauses for the briefest of moments as he glances to the side, his voice turning a touch softer to the point that it surprises his vessel when he hears just how strangely… vulnerable his otherwise stern master sounds. "Well… almost nothing."

"Almost?" Sora asks, already figuring this is bound to be some kind of trap. But even so, he can't help but want to know. "What was still here that almost made you stay then?"

Young Xehanort falls into silence once more as his gaze settles on his coffee mug in his hands. He grips it a bit tighter, a wave of what almost looks like nostalgia washing over his features as his voice turns earnest, perhaps even a bit sad. "...Thalassa. Her name is–was Thalassa."

"Thalassa…" Sora repeats in sudden confusion, as if a long-forgotten memory has started to stir in the furthest reaches of his mind. "That's weird… I feel like… I've heard that name before, but… I don't remember when or how…"

Young Xehanort slips on a subtle smile when he hears this, muttering something that his vessel isn't able to hear. "...You will…"

Sora poses another question at this juncture, craving to know more about this mysterious woman and whatever connection his master might've had with her. "Did you love her?" he asks, unsure of if his master is even capable of such a feeling at all.

And sure enough, he confirms that he probably isn't as he rolls his eyes, clearly finding such a notion to be pitiful and pointless. "...Whatever I might have felt for her wasn't enough to keep me tied to these islands. She made her choice to stay here… and I made my choice to move on. And really, that's as simple as it gets."

"So… you don't miss her then either?" Sora presses quietly, wondering how someone, even someone like his master, could just leave anyone they seemed to care about behind so easily.

"...I have no need to," Young Xehanort replies. "I will see her again when I return to my own time–my elder self has already told me that much. And as strange it may seem, our reunion shall be what ultimately kicks the wheels of fate into motion to this very moment right here and now."

"Huh?" Sora frowns, absolutely lost. "What does that mean?"

"You'll find out in due time," Young Xehanort's usual sly grin is back, and Sora finds himself frustrated by it. Frustrated by how quickly anything resembling genuine emotions, genuine humanity have left his master so very quickly.

Realizing he's not likely to get much more out of his master, Sora decides to change the topic to himself instead. "I never wanted to leave this place…" he mumbles, his heart aching as he stares at the illusory ocean before him. An ocean he knows he'll never get to truly see again, as much as he wishes he could.

"You needed to, though," Young Xehanort counters. "Much like myself, you would have never aspired for anything greater if you'd stayed stagnant here. If you'd remained on this humble shore, you would have never become the person you are today."

Sora nearly argues that he despises the person he is now, that he'd never wanted to be anything close to who he's been forced to become. But he doesn't, whether because of his master's control or because of his own better senses telling him not to. Even so, Young Xehanort easily picks up on such sentiments, and wastes no time speaking to them.

"Sora," he says, forcing the boy to meet his intent, piercing gaze. "Are you happy here with your Organization?"

The question is so simple, yet so utterly ridiculous that Sora has no choice but to blurt out the absolute truth to it. "I already told you…" he replies dejectedly. "I'll never be happy here…"

"Unless…?" Young Xehanort asks expectantly.

"...Unless nothing now…" Sora sighs, fighting back tears he's too ashamed to let fall. "There were only two who could make me happy after all this… and they're gone now… forever."

"...I see," Young Xehanort says, his expression every bit as unreadable as his tone. As he speaks the islands begin to fade away, returning to the empty reality of the Castle that Never Was. Returning to a place Sora will never truly see as his home in place of the one he's lost, no matter how much he knows he needs to. "In that case, I have nothing more to discuss with you this morning," he concludes, standing as their breakfast likewise disappears. "I shall see you again tomorrow morning. And this time, Sora, I expect you to be right on time."

"Y-yes, master…" Sora hangs his head as he stands. All the while, that final, fleeting image of the Destiny Islands remains hanging in his mind and in his heart, even as he hears his master's last words for him on his way out.

"In time, you'll learn the same lesson I had to, Sora," Young Xehanort says with the slightest twinge of something strange in his voice. The slightest hint of what almost sounds like regret. "In order to truly grow, you have to let what you think matters most to you go…"


Rare is it that Sora sees either of his masters outside of their meals or usual meetings. They both tend to keep to themselves, though what either of them does all day, Sora has no idea, and neither do any of his fellow members for that matter. But whenever any of them do happen to have an unexpected encounter with Xehanort, either young or old, it usually means one thing: someone is in trouble.

And today, miraculously enough, that someone isn't Sora.

He tries his best to stay in the good graces of both of his masters, to not cross them and invoke their fury and the unbearable pain that always comes along with it. His elder master's temper is shorter than his younger counterparts, and as a result, Sora accidentally ends up setting him off more. But when it comes to Young Xehanort, Sora has found that instead of catching him in the act of some sort of perceived wrong and punishing him accordingly for it… he tends to dole out that same punishment to the other members on his behalf. A way of keeping the very promise he'd made to him during their first meal together: to protect him, to fight for him, to defend him… even if no one else will.

Only after a week of finally regaining his vision and his freedom from Larxene's 'care', Sora makes the mistake of running afoul of her again, this time alongside Marluxia too. He tries to steer clear of the devious duo, only to be all but cornered by them one day in one of the castle's more obscure corridors, caught in their cruelty without even having done anything to kickstart it.

"Hey, brat," Larxene catches him before he can fully pass her by, pinning him to the nearest wall by one of his wings. "Now that your stupid eyes are all better, I think it's time I finally got even with you for humiliating me in front of the master the other day."

Sora draws in an anxious breath, words failing him at the very moment he needs them to convince her against such petty violence. But surprisingly enough, Marluxia steps forward to do so in his stead. Or rather, to encourage such violence instead. "Now, now, Larxene," he says with a small, yet sinister smile. "We shouldn't be so rude to Sora. Obviously, he's still in mourning. It must be so hard for someone so weak and fragile to lose everything that once made them strong."

Larxene smirks when she hears this, quickly catching onto what Marluxia is trying to do as she readily plays along. "Yeah, poor little kiddo must be sooo lonely," she tightens her grip on Sora as she turns back toward him, her golden eyes gleaming with twisted mischief that rings frighteningly similar to how she'd acted just a few days prior. To how she'd acted just before she'd let him fall to yet another temporary death. "If you're that bummed out, why don't we keep you company for awhile?"

"N-no thanks," Sora shudders, trying his best to pull away from Larxene, to do all he can to escape them both. "You really don't have to-"

"Nonsense," Marluxia says smugly, blocking his right side completely. "We'd be remiss if we didn't take the opportunity to spend some… quality time with our newest addition. And besides-" Sora gasps in sudden fear when Marluxia summons his deadly scythe, Larxene's knives flashing into her free hand as she holds them up threateningly. "We both have some unfinished business with you, number thirteen."

Larxene abruptly throws him to the ground once more, calling upon an electrified barrier in the space behind Sora to keep him from slipping away. "Aw, don't look so scared, Sora," she chuckles as both her and Marluxia brandish their weapons. "We just wanna have a little fun with you…"

"Fun indeed…" Marluxia agrees, drawing the tip of his scythe dangerously close to Sora. "And perhaps, just as Larxene said… a little payback too…"

Sora is unable to stifle a pained cry as the scythe's tip suddenly rips across the right side of his jaw, creating a long, deep cut that tears all the way up toward his nose. The blood from it leaks across the rest of his face, to the point that he accidentally catches a taste of the bitter fluid when it inevitably leaks into his mouth. He doesn't get a chance to nurse the new wound however, before a sharp, brutal shock ripples its way through his body, sending him flying back hard into the barrier behind him. Larxene laughs in twisted amusement as she keeps her electrifying magic pouring into him, until he quickly reaches the point where he can't bear the agony of it any longer.

"S-stop!" he cries in the seconds between shocks. "P-please… stop…"

"You've resorted to begging for mercy?" Marluxia sneers unsympathetically. "And just when I thought you couldn't get any more pathetic."

"Seriously, what are you? Some kind of dumb dog that thinks those sad little puppy eyes of yours will convince us to cut you some slack? Please," Larxene scoffs, raising her knives to toss them his way. "Get over yourself. Just because you're the old man's favorite doesn't mean the rest of us have to play nice."

Marluxia proves that fact when he brings his scythe down once more, this time heavily raking it across Sora's left wing. His pained scream echoes through the otherwise empty hallway, several black spikes darting up into existence all around him in response. One of those spikes just so happens to graze Larxene's arm, tearing her coat and leaving a large, thin gash in its wake. "Dammit!" she swears furiously, clutching the cut and dropping most of her knives in the process. "You worthless little worm! I don't care what the master might say or do, this is the last time you'll ever make a fool out of me!"

"Larxene-" Marluxia cautions, realizing far too late that she's about to go too far. That they're both about to go too far. But as hot as her rage is currently burning, Larxene doesn't dare stop as she reclaims her knives, throwing every last one down of them at Sora in an electrifying storm. In the seconds before it all strikes him, he doesn't even have enough time to brace himself for the deadly torrent. A torrent that miraculously, never ends up touching him.

He opens his eyes seconds later when he hears the sound of Larxene's weapons striking solid metal. She winces in apt surprise when Young Xehanort fends them off, using a bit of his own dark magic to swiftly shove both her and Marluxia away. He stands in the space between the duo and Sora, his Keyblade called upon seemingly for the purpose of defending his newest vessel from their violent ire.

"Do you two really have nothing better to do with your time than harass my thirteenth?" he scowls viciously at Marluxia and Larxene as they begin to pick themselves back up from his brutal attack.

"W-we were just-"

"I know exactly what you were doing," Young Xehanort abruptly cuts Larxene off. "I would have thought last week's 'incident' would have taught you a valuable lesson about how you should be treating him. But I suppose you're even more simple-minded than I thought. That goes for both of you." The master's glare is every bit unrelenting as his tone as he offers it to both of his offending vessels. "Whatever disdain you might harbor for Sora must be put behind you. He is one of us now, and I expect you to treat him as such. Do you both understand or is that too much for you two to comprehend?"

Marluxia and Larxene exchange a sheepish glance at this, both of them clearly humbled and embarrassed by their young master's admonishment. In the end, however, Larxene crosses her arms, simply nodding as she glares away. Marluxia is similarly bitter as he offers his answer aloud. "Yes, master."

"Then in that case, you're both dismissed to return to your actual duties instead of wasting your time standing around here," Young Xehanort instructs, dismissively waving them both away.

The pair quickly retreats after this, though not before they both look past Young Xehanort to offer Sora one final hateful glare. He only barely hears Larxene hiss something about him being a "master's pet" to Marluxia before they round the next corner, finally leaving him alone with that master once more.

"I apologize for the misguided hostility of your fellow members, Sora," Young Xehanort turns to him, extending a hand out to help him up. "It seems as though some of them are having a hard time letting the past go. Are you alright?"

As shaken as he still is by such a brutal attack, Sora struggles to collect himself enough to do much of anything else outside of accepting the hand his young master is offering to him. "I… y-you… you saved me…" he mutters, bewildered by the very thought.

"Of course, I did," Young Xehanort offers him a cordial smile. "It's as I told you before; you've suffered more than enough by now. There is no need for you to suffer any more, especially at the hands of your own allies. You've been through enough of that when you were back with the lights, I'm sure."

Sora looks away at this derogatory mention of the lights; to avoid focusing too much on it, he takes to lightly tracing a claw along the long cut Marluxia had torn across his face. He flinches when Young Xehanort suddenly reaches out to touch it too, though as soon as his fingers so much as skim the still-bleeding wound, his skin weaves itself back together, the pain that it caused him all but disappearing completely. He manages to do the same for his clipped wing, an aura of darkness hovering over it that repairs the fairly new appendage in a matter of mere seconds. And in the aftermath, the most Sora can do is stand there, stunned, as his master places a consoling hand upon his shoulder, intent on finishing up this session with healing of an entirely different kind.

"You have no reason to fear anymore, Sora," Young Xehanort advises gently "There is no wound you can sustain that I cannot heal, no anguish or agony you may feel that I cannot drive away. Your place by my side is your safe haven, and so long as you stay in that place, then safe you shall remain."

Safe… That's a feeling Sora hasn't been accustomed to in a long time, really not since before he'd first ran away. He's used to running, used to hiding, used to lying, used to fear. But what his master is offering him now, some sort of shelter from the constant storm his life has been for so very long now… he finds himself hard-pressed to pass something like that up. Regardless of where or who that shelter might be coming from.

Weak and worn from the stressful ordeal he'd just been through, Sora quickly finds it impossible to remain standing. He starts to collapse, his head spinning, his stomach churning as a wave of newfound sickness washes over him. And yet, he doesn't fully fall as his master catches him by the arms just in time, using his own strength to support him in lieu of that same strength Sora lacks. In so many more ways than one, it seems.

"I-I… I don't understand…" he mutters, half-delirious as his master's image blurs before him. "A-all of the other members–even the other master–they're all so… terrible to me, but… but you're not. Why… why do you keep being so nice to me, master? How can you be so nice to me when I look like this?" he chokes out a small, strained sob as he leans a bit further into his master's hold. "W-when I'm so weak and worthless and-"

"Enough of that," Young Xehanort cuts him off calmly, compassionately. "If there's one thing you're not, Sora, it's worthless. If anything, your fellow members are far less valuable compared to you. You're the one who matters most above all the rest. You have the most important part to play, the greatest destiny to fulfill." He pauses for a moment, long enough to thumb some of Sora's tears away, his tone turning just a bit kinder, just a bit more convincing. "But even beyond that destiny… I see so much of myself in you, Sora."

"Huh?" Sora his eyes and mind both turning heavy and tired.

"You and I have much in common," Young Xehanort says that very implication aloud nonetheless. "We're both from the shores of the very same island, both of us ventured out from those shores to the vast worlds beyond, and… we each lost the friends we thought we loved… only to gain something so much better in their place: power… and the promise of a life unending."

Sora shakes his head, his voice coming out small as he tries to reject all of these claims… and only ends up actually refuting one. "I-I'm not like you…" he whimpers, unable to escape his master's steady hold as suddenly exhausted as he is. "I don't want to live forever…"

"You will, once you see what lies beyond the fading, failing worlds you know," Young Xehanort assures as Sora starts to feel even more faint. The edges of his vision darken, his body falling limp to the point that the only thing keeping him held upright as consciousness fails him completely. is his master. His master, who's flooding his hapless, helpless vessel with just as much darkness as he is lies. His master, who's voice is the last thing, the only thing Sora hears as he languidly, loyally follows him even further into that darkness, even further into whatever future it might hold. "You will live forever in the new world your heart will create. A new world, a better world… a world where you will always belong to me…"


"You look as though you have something on your mind, Sora," Young Xehanort says one morning at breakfast. Sora's surprised he didn't just read whatever's on his mind from the get-go, but he appreciates the relative privacy his master seems to be giving him. Though even that privacy doesn't keep him from prying. "Might I ask what it is?"

Sora takes in a deep, steadying breath. He knows he shouldn't do this, that he's about to play a very dangerous game. But for as genuine as his young master's kindness and generosity toward him seems to be… he can't help but want to test the limits of that benevolence all the same. To see if Young Xehanort truly means what he says and how he acts toward him, to prove that he really does have something almost akin to a "friend" here after all.

"I… wanted to ask you something," he begins hesitantly as he holds his mug of hot chocolate tight. His master nods, prompting him onward. With another nervous breath, Sora proceeds, knowing this is the only chance he'll get. And if it all goes wrong… he doesn't want to even think about what will happen, he doesn't want to think about who he'll no doubt lose. "Um… I know you wanted me to leave everything from my old life behind, but… when we, uh… 'reset' the worlds, I was wondering–I was hoping we could… save someone from it all… Someone who's really, really important to me…"

Young Xehanort's expression is a stoic mask as his golden gaze pierces his vessel straight through. "Who exactly?" he asks, though Sora is sure he already knows the answer.

"M-my mother," Sora says, his heart aching merely upon mentioning her out loud. "I know you probably don't want me seeing her again, a-and that's fine. I don't want her to see me like this anyway…" he mutters, absently glancing back at his ghastly wings, a hand absently rubbing the leathery fabric of his back sleeve. "B-but I just want to make sure she lives. She's already been through so much; she lost my dad, and now me, and she just… she deserves to-"

"To what?" Young Xehanort cuts him off, every trace of his usual goodwill fading in favor of icy authority. "To live more than anyone else in any other world?"

"N-no, I wasn't saying that!" Sora protests, suddenly flustered as he realizes his plan is already falling to pieces. Even so, he desperately tries to salvage it, to spare his mother, the last, the only person he still has a chance at saving. "I just want her to-"

"You want your own mother to live and no one else," Young Xehanort sneers unsympathetically. "Do you realize how utterly selfish you sound by even making such a request, Sora? Despite all of the worlds you've been to, and all of the people you've claimed to love, clearly not a single one of them matters much to you now, do they?"

"That's not true!" Sora abruptly stands up from his seat, slamming his hands down upon the table.

"My thirteenth-" Young Xehanort starts, though even he isn't able to quell the boy's rising fury.

"I'd save all of them, every last friend I've made in every single world I've been to, if I could!" Sora shotus hotly, a wall of spikes bursting through the floor behind him. "But you won't let me! You won't let me save any of them because you want me to destroy everyone! I don't want that, I never wanted any of this! I just want to go-"

He cuts himself off with a sharp and sudden scream, one that echoes loudly through the dining room as his heart practically explodes with pain. Within seconds, he's on the floor, his body wracked with unshakable agony as he convulses violently, a bit of blood trickling out of his mouth as he's forced to roll onto his back. His glassy gaze soon finds his master as he comes to stand over him, his face set in a disappointed, disgusted scowl over his vessel's outraged outburst. An outburst that Sora is clearly paying for now as his heart continues surging with perhaps the worst pain that's ever been forced upon it.

"You want to go where, my thirteenth?" Young Xehanort hisses, leaning down a bit toward him. "Home? How easily you seem to forget: you are home."

Sora doesn't have nearly enough strength to try and argue this time as a low, anguished moan escapes him. When tears start to well up in his eyes, his master reaches down to wipe them away, letting out a sigh that would almost sound remorseful. If he hadn't been the one to inflict such cruel torture upon his vesssel in the first place.

"Look what you've made me do, Sora…" he shakes his head. "How long will it take for you to finally learn? Your place is here, your purpose is to be a part of something so much greater than yourself. Let go of your past already; your friends, your family, they hold nothing for you now. We are your friends, we are your family. We are all you will ever need…"

Somewhere between the pain wringing his heart raw, Sora feels a strange sense of shame rising up within him. That shame only grows when he shakily takes the hand his master offers him, helping him rise to sit on his knees. Sora refuses to go any higher than that as he bows low to the ground, overwhelmed by guilt as he grovels at his master's feet. "I'm so sorry…" he whispers, his voice every bit as broken as his heart currently is. "I don't know what I was thinking…"

He keeps his head hung even as he hears his master let out a long, tired sigh. Relief floods through him when he feels Young Xehanort place a gentle hand atop his head, his voice back to that same sort of inviting kindness Sora craves so desperately. The sort of kindness he can't get anywhere else anymore. "All is forgiven, my thirteenth…" the master says and Sora feels a weight suddenly lifting off his chest. At that very instant, all traces of pain fade fully from his heart, his mind calm and his body light as Young Xehanort helps him stand once more.

But even then, Sora longs for so much more beyond that simple apology. His grieving heart longs for comfort, comfort that he desperately seeks from the only one willing to give it. He catches both himself and Young Xehanort off guard when he opens his arms wide and locks them both around his master. And there he stays, clinging onto that master, clinging onto every last promise, every caring word and kindly smile he's given him. Clinging onto the only person he has left to rely on, the only person he's sure will never leave him now that everyone else already has.

Despite his relative surprise, Young Xehanort tentatively allows such a hug. He smiles as he moves to return it, placing a consoling hand on his vessel's back as he allows the boy to weep into his shoulder. "That's right… rest easy, Sora…" he says softly, smoothly… underhandedly. Because with this embrace alone, the young master knows his mission has reached its end, that his ultimate goal has finally been met. He knows he's finally won the child's loyalty, his respect, his obedience, his heart… and all of the power that will soon come along with it. "Rest… and know that your master is here for you… I always will be…"


I

The first time Sora goes to have dinner with his elder master, he has no idea what to expect.

Xehanort has what Sora has heard a few of the other members refer to as the "penthouse suite" of the Castle that Never Was. His chambers are in its highest tower, a lengthy, stair-filled slog for anyone to get to without a dark corridor. Which is why, with the privileges of creating one stripped away from him, it takes Sora nearly an hour to make it to the top of that tower. He's utterly exhausted by the time he reaches the large, ornate doors to his master's suite, to the point that he scarcely had enough energy to be nervous on the way up. But now that he's standing before those doors, knowing no one but his master awaits him on the other side… Sora can't help but be anything but.

He approaches the doors quietly, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he dreads what might await him. His master has a unique talent for striking such a deep, visceral sort of fear in him, even when they're not even in the same room as each other. The mere thought of Xehanort, his imposing figure, his sinister smile, his practically all-seeing golden gaze… it's all enough to send shudders down Sora's spine as he slowly raises his hand to knock. Only for the door to creak open mere seconds before his hand hits it.

His posture remains stiff and anxious as he moves past the doors into the short hallway beyond it. That hallway soon opens up to a large, elegant room, by far the most luxurious the castle has to offer, at least as far as he's seen in his first day there. Towering bookcases line one wall, each filled to the brim with far too many tomes to count. Beside it rests a roaring fireplace with two plus chairs sitting on either side of a chessboard, a scene that would look strangely cozy if not for everything else surrounding it. There's another, smaller door that must lead to some sort of sleeping quarters–if his master even needs to sleep at all, Sora has no clue. In the center of the room is a long, white table with only two covered plates–Sora can only assume dinner is waiting underneath them. Finally, a wide window takes up the furthest end of the room, a large wooden desk sitting in front of it as the rain outside continues pouring rhythmically pelting the thick glass. And, standing just in front of that glass watching that rain, is none other than Master Xehanort himself.

Sora bows before he can think better of it, but before he can speak, his master beats him to it. "You've arrived late, my thirteenth," he remarks, his back still turned to the boy. "Very late. And not just to dinner." Xehanort finally turns to face him, his tone and expression equally cryptic and haughty as he slowly saunters forward. "But to your place here among your Organization. To the life you should have led from the very start."

Sora rises, confusion mingling with stress as he tries to speak, his throat oddly burning from the effort. "I–M-my apologies, master," he strains, his voice small and burdened. "I didn't mean to-"

"Speak no more," Xehanort raises a hand, cutting his already frail voice off altogether. And with it, his ability to even try to say anything else. "Whatever excuses you might try to give for disrespecting me with your tardiness mean little now. You're finally here; that's all that matters. So," he finally smiles as he reaches his seat, nodding for Sora to do the same. "Let's eat, shall we, my boy?"

They sit in unison, far apart from each other on either end of the lengthy table. And as soon as Sora is allowed to uncover his plate, he can already tell this meal is going to be drastically different from the one he shared with his younger master this morning. To begin with, his portion is disappointingly small–only a small slab of lukewarm meat and a handful of unseasoned vegetables and a small glass of water on the side. He glances up to find that his master's meal is much more lavish–a full, steaming-hot steak with ample soup and sides to accompany it, topped up with a full glass of the finest wine. Sora spends a moment or two looking between the contrasting plates, wondering if there's been some sort of mistake. Though of course, his master, sensing his bewilderment, is all too ready to speak to it.

"Are you not satisfied, my thirteenth?" Xehanort raises a critical eyebrow as he takes his first sip of wine. "I go through the trouble of preparing a fresh, hot meal for you, allow you the honor of enjoying that meal by my side, and still that's not enough for you? Ungrateful child. Perhaps you will come to appreciate what is put in front of you after a reminder of how you starved while you were wandering on your own."

"N-no!" Sora protests, his voice barely capable of being much more beyond a hoarse whisper. But still, he begs all the same, unable to bear another second of the same kind of empty agony he'd experienced for so many months out in the wild. "I-I'm… very grateful for… e-everything you've given me, master…" he stammers, and his words are entirely his own. If only for the sake of ensuring he doesn't go hungry here, not alongside everything else he knows he'll have to get used to going without.

"As you should be," Xehanort nods his astute agreement. "You owe much to me, my thirteenth, including your life, several times over. Never forget that."

As if you'd let me, Sora thinks, but out loud, he simply says: "I won't."

They eat the rest of their dinner in a strange, awkward form of silence. Sora can sense his master's eyes on him, watching him all the while, spectating, studying him throughout the entire meal. He isn't able to speak, so instead, he tries his best to focus on his meager dinner, trying not to even think about how bland and unfulfilling it is, lest he invoke his master's ire once more. Lest he lose any further favor with that master than he somehow already has.

Though his meal is much larger, Xehanort finishes eating first. As soon as he's done, he rises from his seat, leaving Sora with no choice but to do the same, despite the fact that his own dinner is only half-eaten. Still, he lets himself feel a small burst of relief, hoping this means this unwanted evening has reached its surprisingly short, but merciful end. Until…

"Come along, child," he moves on from the table, leaving his vessel to follow. "I'd like to see how you might fare in a round or two of chess." Sora tries to say that he doesn't know how to play, though his master already catches the thought before it can even leave his mouth. "Yes, I'm aware of your lack of experience with such games. But don't fret, boy," Xehanort finally glances back at him with a mysterious, unsettling smile. "I'll be sure to teach you well."

They take a seat near the fireplace, on either side of the chessboard. Only now that he has an up-close view of it can Sora appreciate how utterly beautiful the chess set is, each gilded piece finely crafted with various symbols, some of which he recognizes, others that he doesn't. The one that stands out among them the most rests on what he assumes will be his side of the board, topped off by a crown that's hauntingly similar to the same charm still hanging hidden under his coat. He doesn't know if it's merely a coincidence or it means something more, nor does he bother asking as his master begins to detail the rules of the game.

Chess is every bit as complicated as Sora expected it to be, filled with difficult strategies and unclear moves he can scarcely even try to make sense of. Of course, his master doesn't allow him to ask any clarifying questions before they launch right into their first round, leaving Sora largely helpless as he tries to move his queen, only to be scolded right off the bat for it. The rest of the game plays out in a similar manner, with Sora fumbling through uncalculated maneuvers, only for his master to chastise him for doing it all wrong. As frustrating as it is, he isn't able to voice his annoyance, isn't able to express how unfair this all is, isn't able to just get up from his seat and leave like he really wants to do above all else. Instead, he stays where he is and plays a difficult game against someone far more skilled at it. He plays a game he can never hope to truly win.

"Checkmate," Xehanort finally comes out on top as he claims the crown-topped piece from Sora's side of the board. The master fixes the boy with a broad, smug smile, one that makes Sora despise the malicious man sitting across from him even more on principle alone. "Don't despair, my thirteenth. You'll have plenty of time to learn how to play properly as opposed to the pitiful effort you put forth tonight. But as for whether or not you'll ever manage to best me–well, I suppose we'll just have to wait and see."

Sora says nothing, already knowing his master is setting him up to fail with such a challenge. Just as he set him up to fail every step of the path he took to wind up here. Just as he set him up to fall into his hands from the very start.

"For now, return to your room and rest," Xehanort commands him to stand, still smiling as he keeps his spot by the fire. Sora does as he's told, his body far too tired, his mind much too numb, his heart still too broken to do anything other than obey. "Good night and sleep well, my boy," he hears his master bid him farewell on the way out. A farewell that means nothing when he knows they'll see each other again tomorrow, and the next day, and every single day after that. When he knows that from here on out, his master will always be mere moments away. "Your new life awaits you…"


Dinners always go the exact same way. Sora arrives at his master's lavish suite, eats the unimpressive scraps of his master's much more substantial meal, the two play a round or so of chess and Sora always, always loses, and then the master sends him off to bed without much said after. Unlike his breakfasts with the younger master, rarely are there any meaningful conversations, rarely is Sora even allowed to say a word at all. He simply sits there, listening to whatever his master has to tell him, from coldly mocking his appearance, condescendingly demeaning his intelligence, or simply taking pleasure in defeating him in every last game of chess. And at the conclusion of each of those games, his master always makes his victory over his final vessel excruciatingly clear with one single, simple word alone:

"Checkmate."

"Checkmate."

"Checkmate."

It's all dull to the point of being downright torturous, and yet… it still feels so very odd to Sora. His master has done little to harm him since he arrived, physically, or even truly mentally, any more than he already has. Perhaps he knows that simply being here is punishment enough for Sora, but even so, something doesn't sit right with the boy about his master's almost… reserved behavior. It's as if he's hiding something he can't quite place, a secret buried just behind the master's blazing golden eyes, one that he refuses to let his thirteenth vessel in on. At least… until one night several weeks in when his master suddenly, finally reveals that well-kept secret to him. One secret Sora never could have seen coming. One secret that turns his life and everything he thought he knew about it completely upside down

"Good evening, Sora," Xehanort greets him at the door tonight, something that nearly shocks Sora stiff. Usually, his master is lingering by the window or working at his desk when he arrives. To be escorted in like this, with such a cordial, almost eager smile nonetheless, isn't what he's gotten used to from these dinners or from his master overall.

"G-good evening, master," Sora returns with his usual bow. Upon just stepping foot into the master's suite, he can feel something is… off somehow. While nothing looks out of the ordinary, the atmosphere filling the opulent chamber is strangely… festive. Even his master, usually so stoic and stern, appears almost… happy about something. He won't stop smiling as he leads Sora to the table, even going as far as pulling the boy's chair out for him to sit. While Sora mutters his confused thanks, he wonders what in the world he's just walked into. Why in the world his elder master is suddenly showing him the same sort of civility his younger self is so well-versed in. How in the world he's supposed to even react to any of it.

Even more surprising is the fact that their meals are, for the first time, exactly the same. Sora is further impressed to find that meal is a sizable spread of freshly steamed, perfectly prepared seafood, his favorite dish from back on the islands. He's unable to hold back a gasp in the presence of his master, who's steady grin only deepens when he sees the slightest hint of a smile on his vessel's face.

"A very special occasion is drawing near," Xehanort informs as the boy eagerly takes his first bite of the savory seafood. "Given how long I've been looking forward to it, I figured it only fitting to celebrate that occasion a bit early."

Sora pauses amidst his meal, unsure of how his rigid, restrictive master could deem anything worth celebrating. Anything other than his thirteenth vessel's suffering that is. "Um… what's the occasion?" he asks, only now realizing that his master is allowing him to speak freely. Perhaps the most bewildering thing about this whole evening by far.

Xehanort takes a long sip of his wine, clearly intent on keeping his vessel held in suspense before he gives his answer simply. Excitedly, almost. "Your birthday, Sora. Your seventeenth birthday, to be exact."

Sora's mouth falls open, his eyes wide as his fork falls back onto his plate with a dull clatter. He wants to refute it, knowing that his birthday can't already be here, that his last one wasn't that long ago, that it was only a few months, a few weeks at best. But then he remembers Christmas, he remembers just how badly he managed to lose track of time while on the run, he remembers how easily the days and weeks blended together when he had no reason to count them, he remembers the loosening chill of late winter still hanging over the islands the last time he'd been there. And if his birthday truly is approaching, if he really has to celebrate it here, with them… then he'd just as rather not even remember it at all.

But of course, his master fully intends on making sure he does.

"Surprised?" Xehanort smirks, amused by the boy's clear shock. "Time does seem to fly so swiftly, especially when you're young. But very soon, time will no longer matter at all to you and I, my boy. Not after we both surpass the hold it has over us both."

"W-what?" Sora asks weakly, his thoughts still largely swimming in the daunting idea of his upcoming birthday.

"You needn't concern yourself with that," Xehanort waves his hand dismissively. "It's a conversation for another night. For this night, however… I'd like to give you something; a gift, of sorts, to honor such a momentous turning point in a life as momentous as yours, Sora."

Sora swallows his next bite of food so hard he nearly chokes on it. "O-oh?" is all he can get out, already dreading whatever that "gift" might be.

Xehanort nods, not even bothering to take a single bite of his own food as he rises to stand, though this time, he doesn't immediately force Sora to do the same. "Finish your meal, then join me for another game of chess, my thirteenth," he instructs as he begins to head over to the fireplace. "I have a feeling tonight's match will be one you won't soon forget."

Sora almost hesitates to eat anything else at all out of sheer dread over whatever his master has in mind alone. But the seafood is far too delicious to leave uneaten, even if his master hadn't ordered him to finish it. He tries to put his worries out of his mind, tries to enjoy the shrimp and scallops and fresh fish, tries not to spare even a single glance over to where his master sits waiting for him. But of course, in the end, the food runs thin, in the end, he's forced to stand, whether he wants to or not. In the end, he heads over to the chess set and takes his usual seat across from his master. In the end, he can do nothing but wait and watch as his master stares, smiling, at the fireplace beside them, until his haunting yellow gaze finally settles on his vessel in front of him.

"Go on, my boy," he nods, his hands folded in front of him. "Make your first move."

Sora bites his lip as he does so, still shaky at best about how to play chess, even well over a month since these nightly games began. He decides to move one of his pawns first, and surprisingly, his master doesn't mock him for it as he does the same. A few early moves follow in the same manner, with only the sound of the fire crackling to cut through what would otherwise be silence. But in time, Xehanort finally breaks that silence as he glances up from the chessboard, his smile widening just the slightest bit as he catches his anxious vessel's attention in full.

"Forgive this old man for wallowing in nostalgia," he begins, sitting back in his chair a bit. "But it's been many years since I've stepped foot upon the islands we both once called home. Tell me, child, are they still just as lovely as they always have been?"

Sora nods slowly, his gaze drifting downward as yet another surge of homesickness swells through him. "Yes… they're beautiful…"

"And the fruit of the legendary paopu tree," Xehanort continues. "Is it still every bit as sweet?"

"Y-yes…" Sora's voice is tight, the taste of that fruit practically on the tip of his tongue. Along with the promise he'd made to Riku and Kairi when he'd finally gotten a chance to taste it, a promise that means absolutely nothing now. "It is…"

"Hm…" Xehanort closes his eyes after moving one of his knights. "And your dear mother–what was her name again, Himari? How does she fare?"

Sora freezes, his breath caught in his throat as he stares at his master with wide eyes. He tries to calm himself by rationalizing that his master already knows everything about his life–certainly his mother's name wouldn't be too hard for him to deduce. And yet… he can't chase the stark sense of terror that still shoots through him when he hears Xehanort say that name all the same. "Y-you… you know my mother?"

"Not personally, no," Xehanort shakes his head. "I've never had the privilege of meeting her, though I've been told she's quite an exceptional woman."

"...She is…" Sora mutters, unable to voice what else he wants to say. The very same plea he'd tried to make to his young master just a few days prior, a desperate attempt to save her even though he knows he'll never come close.

"And what of your father?" Xehanort continues to pry, much to his vessel's discomfort. "His name is Tsuki, correct? You must think he's every bit as… 'spectacular' as she is, I'd assume."

If he didn't want to talk about his mother with his master, Sora certainly doesn't want to discuss his father. But of course, he has no real say on the matter as he offers a glum, quiet response. "M-my dad died in a storm when I was eight…" he resists the urge to reach for his necklace, the last remaining heirloom he still has left to hold onto of him. An heirloom he's still determined to not let his master see, lest he lose that too. "But yes… he was the best father I could have ever asked for…"

Xehanort lets out something of a sneer at this, disgust clear on his aged features. Sora doesn't get to learn the origins of that disgust, however, as his master makes his next bold move across the board. "A few days ago, my younger self told you of a woman I was once very… close with," he oddly changes the topic altogether. Still, it's something Sora can't help but be grateful for as the focus shifts off him and onto his master instead. "Do you remember her name, my thirteenth?"

"Um… Thalassa?" Sora guesses, unsure of what she has to do with anything,

That same look that he'd seen on his young master's face a few days prior, a look that's nearly fond, nearly affectionate, nearly genuine, now resides on his elder master's as well. Xehanort takes a moment or two before following Sora's move, edging in on one of his pawns in the process. "Though she's long since passed on, my Lassa shined as bright as the sun. Perhaps a bit too brightly for her own good. In many ways, you remind me much of her, Sora."

Such a strange comment is easily enough to throw Sora through a loop. He has no idea how to even respond to it, so he chooses not to as he thoughtlessly moves one of his bishops, far too bewildered by this bizarre conversation to focus too much on the mundane game before him.

"I suppose that brings us to the matter of your birthday gift, my boy," Xehanort meets his vessel's confounded gaze with a steady smile. "The first of two gifts, to be precise, though you'll have to wait a bit longer for the latter–you're not quite… ready for it yet."

"Um… so what's this gift then?" Sora dares to ask despite the nervous pit developing in his stomach.

"...A story," Xehanort says simply, raising his hand as magic swirls over it. "One that's set near the sea of my youth and yours…"

Just as his younger self had done before, Xehanort casts an illusion all around them, with only the chairs and the chessboard remaining of his sterile suite. Replacing that suite is none other than the white sands and vibrant sunshine of the Destiny Islands, the play island to be exact. Sora wonders if his masters intend to continue torturing him by bringing him back to this fake replica of his former home, to constantly hang what he can never have again over his head, forever out of reach. But this illusion seems to be different than the last as Sora hears faint laughter echoing in the distance, as he notices a pair running into view from the farthest side of the shore.

"Make your next move, my thirteenth," Xehanort orders, his gaze focused on the two children–a brown haired girl and a white haired boy. "I never said this story would bring our game to a stop."

Sora does as he's told, making a quick, uncalculated move of one of his rooks so he can focus on the pair of children instead. He can only see the boy's features clearly, the girl's mostly obscured by shadow save for her bright, cheerful smile. Even still, it doesn't take much deduction on his part to figure out exactly who these illusions are.

"Thalassa…" Xehanort begins his tale as he watches the shadow of his own past play out, as he observes the child he used to be so blissfully, obliviously playing with another. "She was my first, and for the longest time, my only friend. We would spend many empty hours here, running across these shores together. But even back then, I could feel a certain… calling. I knew I was destined for so much more than whatever this humble world could offer me…"

Suddenly, the boy stops short in the shallows of the ocean, his gray gaze fixed on the horizon as the girl steps in to stand alongside him. "Do you ever wonder what's out there?" he asks her, thoughtfully, curiously.

"Out on the ocean?" she frowns as she glances between him and the sea. "You've heard what the adults say; there's nothing on the sea beyond the islands. This is all there is."

"This is all there is…" he repeats in a whisper. "But what if there's more out there?" he turns to her. His expression is intent and focused, yet far away all at the same time. "What if, somewhere beyond this ocean, there's an entire world that nobody's ever seen before?"

"Sounds like someone's been daydreaming again," she smirks, playfully poking his nose.

"I'm serious!" he protests. "There has to be more than our tiny islands; there's gotta be something else! And if there is, then I want to see it all. And I want you to come with me, Thalassa."

She's still smiling as she shakes her head, but she accepts the hand he offers to her anyway. "I still think you've got your head in the clouds, but… if there really is something else out there, then ok," she relents as she places both of her hands securely in his. "I'll go with you to see it."

Suddenly, the children vanish, their forms dissipating into mere grains of sand as the ocean breeze carries them away. Sora isn't sure what to think of what he'd just seen; by all accounts, he still has no idea why his master is showing him any of this to begin with. Still, he can't help but voice the obvious assumption brimming at the front of his mind as he moves his next piece. "But she didn't go with you… did she?"

"...She didn't want to," Xehanort takes in something almost akin to a sigh. He glances over to the other end of the island, using magic to turn both of their seats so they can get an equal view. The sun now sets over the islands as the girl–Thalassa, sits alone upon the paopu tree. She's older now, about Sora's age from the looks of it, her long chestnut hair blowing in the breeze as she faces the ocean. She quickly turns, however, upon noticing someone approaching across the bridge behind her.

The mere sight of his master as a teenager somehow stuns Sora even more than seeing him as a child did. He joins Thalassa at the tree, and though the start of their conversation is too quiet to really hear, the most important part of it makes itself more than clear.

"Remember what you said? About how if I ever found a way off the islands, then you'll go with me?" There's a certain edge of elated excitement in the teenaged Xehanort's voice as he takes Thalassa's hands in his. "Well, I found a way, and I still want you to go with me, Lassa. There's no one else I'd rather have by my side to see the worlds with than you."

She hesitates, looking away from him as she slowly pulls her hands away. "Xehanort, I… I can't… I can't just leave my family behind."

"I'm sure your family will understand,," the younger Xehanort dismisses with an air of superiority Sora is all too used to hearing. "Think of the opportunity we have here! Think of what we could do, what we could see! There's so much more than these tiny islands we've always known. You can't let your life here tie you down forever!"

"I like my life here," Thalassa protests firmly, sternly. "I love our islands, the sea, the town, everything about them. This place, Xehanort… it's our home. How could you just… turn your back on that? On me?"

"I'm not turning my back on you!" he argues, his frustration rising. "I told you, I want you to come with me! I want us to be together, just like we always have been!"

"Believe me, Xehanort, I wish I could…" she sighs, and if Sora could have seen her eyes, he'd imagine there might be tears in them. "But… my place is here. And here is where I'm staying."

He goes silent for a long time, several different emotions running across his face at once: anger, fear, grief. And when he finally speaks again, his voice echoes all of those feelings clearly. "So… that's your final answer then?"

"Yes…" she nods, her voice barely above a tearful whisper. "It is…"

And just like that… they're both gone again. Xehanort turns his focus back to the chessboard, forcing Sora to do the same so he can watch his master claim another one of his pawns. "The other master told me he doesn't miss her," Sora speaks up quietly. Despite not knowing her personally, he can't feel anything other than sorry for Thalassa, abandoned by someone she cared so much for. By someone who's only ever cared for himself.

"My younger self has only lived the first few chapters of this story," Xehanort counters as he watches his vessel fumble through his next move. "He's yet to reach the moment where I return to Lassa's side…" he glances to the sea, where Young Xehanort–or perhaps, a version of him that's just a bit older, quietly reunites with Thalassa, now an adult herself. Where, in the sunset-drenched shallows, they not only share an embrace, but a deep, tender kiss.

"So… you did love her then?" Sora questions, watching as the pair clings onto each other as night emerges over the island.

"You're much too obsessed with the fragile notion of 'love', my boy," Xehanort scoffs, unimpressed. "Thalassa was what I needed to fulfill my ultimate purpose, to grant me what I've always wanted most. She was nothing less to me than that… but really, not much more."

Sora can't help but feel a twinge of disgust upon hearing just how little this poor woman mattered to his master, just how little anyone or anything at all matters to him, really. "Well, then what did you get from her that was so important?" he asks, only hoping she wasn't hurt in the process.

Xehanort smiles at this, his first in quite awhile as he takes one of his vessel's knights off the board. "A son."

As the scene shifts around them, Sora's jaw drops, his mind reeling as he tries to take in what he just heard. He still can't believe that his master had once had someone fall in love with him, but the idea that he'd merely used her to produce a child… it's something he can scarcely comprehend. At least until he sees the couple sitting near the shore of the main island this time. At least until he sees Thalassa hand a bundled baby over into Xehanort's arms.

"What did you name him?" the younger master asks. But Sora doesn't quite catch Thalassa's answer, he can't even really see the baby that well, with his face shrouded in the same sort of shadows as his mother's is.

"Now that we have him," she says with a small, hopeful smile. "Will you finally stay?"

The younger Xehanort doesn't answer right away as he stares down at his child. A child Sora still marvels at the mere existence of, just as much as he wonders who that child ended up to be, where he might possibly be now. If he's anywhere near as cruel and cunning as his father's always been. "...Yes. I'll stay."

She embraces him, but he makes no move to return it as they both fade away. Sora swiftly turns to face his master once more, overwhelmed with far too many questions to count. "What was his name? What happened to him? Is he still-"

"Your move, my thirteenth," Xehanort staunchly cuts him off. "Patience is a virtue you clearly lack. Look and see the answers that you're seeking."

Sora sighs indignantly as he makes a quick move of his queen, a dangerous move at that, but he can hardly be bothered to care. Because suddenly they're inside of a house he doesn't recognize. Suddenly, the baby is now a child, only about 4 or so, his identity still a mystery, save for his dull brown hair and the tears streaking down his face as he grips his bleeding hand tightly. Suddenly, Thalassa is furious as she stands between her child and his father, screaming at the younger Xehanort, who doesn't seem to care in the slightest.

"How could you!?" she yells as the boy grips her skirt and cries into it. "He's your son! What were you thinking?!"

"The boy needs to become stronger," the younger Xehanort states simply, apathetically. "He'll never survive the savagery of the worlds if he continues to cry and cower like that."

"He's four!" Thalassa counters sharply. "And what do you mean, the savagery of the worlds? He's not leaving, not like you did to me time and time again. He won't be the kind of man you are, the kind of man who leaves his family behind whenever he wants without ever bothering to look back!"

"But I did look back, Lassa," the younger Xehanort slips on a smile, charming and false as he reaches in toward her face. "I looked back… and found you, still here, still stuck in the same place you've always been. Perhaps things would be different now if you had actually decided to join me when I set out all those years ago. Maybe then we could have been happy together like you wanted."

Before he can touch her, she swiftly slaps her hand away. Sora would honestly root her on if not for the fact that his master is sitting right across from him. "Don't touch me," she hisses. "We could have never been happy, even if I had gone with you. The Xehanort I loved died the day he first left this island behind."

"You're right about that," he smirks as he pulls back. "My journey truly has changed me-for the better. It crafted me into someone far stronger, far smarter than I could have ever been if I'd decided to stay here. And that's exactly what I want for our son too, Thalassa."

"No," she holds her sobbing son tighter, as if to protect him from this treacherous man, from his own terrible father. "I already told you, he will never be anything like you are. I won't allow it."

"Really?" the younger Xehanort sneers, raising an eyebrow "And what do you intend to do to keep that from happening?"

She's quiet for a moment, looking down at her trembling son before she reaches her swift decision. The right decision, if her son's bleeding hand is anything to go off of. "Get out," she whispers harshly, though her voice is quick to rise in rapid anger. "Get out of our home, out of our lives! You never wanted to be a part of this family anyway, so I'm giving you exactly what you've always wanted! I don't want to see you ever again, and I certainly don't want you around our son! So get out, and never come back!"

The broken family fades away as her final shout echoes through the returning shore of the play island. Sora only wishes the story could end there, that Thalassa and her son could remain safe and sound from the sadistic shadow hanging over both of their lives. But much like that same shadow still sitting before him, Xehanort refuses to be rid of that easily.

"I did as Thalassa said and stayed away–for a time, at least," Xehanort says as he makes his next move, claiming one of Sora's bishops in the process. "But eventually, I returned to my son again, to gift him his birthright. To try and mold him into more than his feeble-hearted mother would have ever allowed him to be…"

The boy appears older now as Xehanort, now quite a bit aged himself, stands a few paces from him. His dark Keyblade rests in his grip as he places his son's hand upon its hilt, reciting something Sora can't clearly hear. When it's over, however, their conversation becomes audible, the boy immensely fascinated by his father, all but blind to the kind of malicious monster the man before him truly is.

"What is this…?" he asks, marveling down at the ancient weapon between them.

"This, my boy, is a Keyblade," his father explains with a falsely kind smile. "A special weapon that is tightly bound to the heart of its wielder. I've trained many years to become a master over its power, and in the process, I have seen many worlds."

"There are other worlds…?" the boy asks, awestruck. Sora only wishes he could warn him, to beg this poor, innocent child to flee before he's caught in the same kind of terrible trap he's now wrested in for the rest of his life. But of course, these are only mere ghosts of the past, simple phantoms of many years gone by. And even then, for all he knows, Xehanort's son could have ended up to be just as much of a tyrant as his father. If he's even still alive at all.

"Indeed," Xehanort's smile widens. "When you are older, you'll have the chance to see them for yourself, just as I have. With the power of the Keyblade I just bequeathed to you, the doors to the worlds will one day open wide for you. As the heir to both my Keyblade and my legacy, I trust when the time comes for you to take on the mantle of our family's heritage, our very destiny, you will not disappoint me."

"I-I won't," the boy assures earnestly, clearly eager to please. "I promise, Father, I won't let you down!"

"I'll be sure to hold you to that promise..." his father says as he turns to leave, a shadowy portal forming in the sands behind him. "I must be on my way for now. But… before I go, one final gift for you, child. Consider it an heirloom of sorts, one I claimed during my many travels." He pulls something out of his pocket and presses it into his son's hands. "Be sure to take exceptional care of it, my son. Oh, and as far as your dear mother is concerned, this meeting never happened."

The boy stands by, watching as his father leaves to worlds unknown. Once he's gone, he looks down at the gift Xehanort had left him, holding it up so he can see it glisten in the sunlight:

A chain-bound necklace holding the charm of a pure, silver crown.

Sora's blood runs cold. He nearly falls out of his chair, his hand rushing to his neck without any thought at all. His master is quick to catch his hand though, reaching across the table to carefully pull out the very same necklace hidden underneath his coat. "You really thought you could hide this from me, my thirteenth?" he asks as his vessel trembles in his grip. "From the one who knows your every thought, who can see straight through to the deepest depths of your heart, soul, and mind?"

"I-I…" Sora chokes, his eyes wide and his breathing shallow. "W-where… W-why did you have it?" he asks, his voice hitching in rising panic. "Where did you get it from?!"

"Do not shout at me, child," Xehanort warns as he lets the charm fall out of his hand and back onto his vessel's coat. "As for that… trinket of yours, I received it from a wise master many years ago, before my son was even a thought. I entrusted it to him, but clearly he didn't take much care of it for it to wind up in your possession."

"...S-so he lost it then?" Sora presses, not wanting to even entertain the thought of any alternatives. "M-my father gave it to me, I don't know where he got it from, so-"

"Enough questions," Xehanort cuts him off as he gracefully moves a rook without even glancing down. "There is still a story to be told…"

Sora swallows hard when he turns back to the boy, now a teenager. He wears the crown upon his neck, and Sora can't shake the thought of how wrong it is to see it on anyone else. He shakes such thoughts out of his mind as he realizes that the boy is speaking to his father, though he doesn't get to hear the start of whatever argument they're having as his master speaks over it.

"Like any father, I longed for my son to follow in my footsteps." There's a hint of disdain in Xehanort's voice as he glares at the boy's back. "I returned time and time again, trying to teach him to summon his Keyblade, to live up to any kind of meaningful potential. But in the end, it never came to him. In the end, he disappointed me, every single time…"

"You want me… to leave with you?" the boy repeats, confused

"But of course," his father nods. "That was always the inevitable goal with our little 'practice' sessions. For you to learn to use your Keyblade so that you might be able to use its power to traverse the worlds freely, just as I have before you."

"B-but… I can't leave. I don't want to leave. What about Mom? I-"

"Your mother never understood the great purpose that awaits you, child," his father remarks dismissively. "But I always have. From the very day you were born, from the first time I laid eyes upon you, I knew. You're like me-destined for something far greater than any life we might know here."

"But… but I just met this girl a few months ago," the boy smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's really sweet and fun. I… I really like her. I might even love her. I-I've even been thinking about… about asking her to marry me, when we're a little older…"

Despite his son's earnest intentions, Xehanort simply lets out an icy, indignant scoff. "Nonsense. I'll tell you what you're going to do, boy. You will come with me away from this world and you will learn to call upon your Keyblade and you will stop being a pathetic disgrace for once in your life! Is that clear ?"

For a moment, Sora fears that the boy will fold, that he'll give into the harsh, immense pressure his horrible father is putting on his shoulders. But then… "No."

"No?" his father repeats, his golden glare deepening. "You dare disrespect your own father, boy?"

"You've never been much of a father to me," the boy counters sternly, with a kind of unflinching courage Sora only wishes he still possessed. "You left Mom when I was just a kid. And you've only ever come around since to try and make me more like you . You may not realize this, Father-no, Xehanort -but I am not you!"

"No, clearly you're not ," his father hisses severely. "Because if you were anything like me, you would have been able to take up your Keyblade years ago. You would have strived for something greater instead of settling for the mediocrity you'll always be forced to wallow in here ."

"Maybe I don't want to use a Keyblade!" the boy snaps. "Maybe I don't want to leave home! What if I want to stay here, so I can have a family of my own? So maybe I can have a son and show him all the love you never bothered giving me?"

"Then your very existence will become nothing more than a waste in the grand scheme of things," Xehanort condemns him haughtily. "If you choose to deny the grand heritage that awaits you here and now, then mark my words, boy, I will find someone else to take your place in my plans."

"Go ahead and do it then," the boy readily turns away from him. "Because I'm done . With you and with everything you wanted for my life. You're not the one in charge of my destiny, Xehanort. I am."

Surprisingly, Xehanort turns to depart, clearly seething all the while. Still, he has one final threat for his rebellious son, a threat that lingers even long after he's gone. "I swear to you, boy, you will live to regret this decision…"

The scene stays on the boy for a few moments after this time. He tears the crown charm off of his neck, and Sora feels like breathing out a sigh of relief as he prepares to toss it into the vast sea ahead of him. Until… he lets out a shaky breath, pulls the necklace in close… and puts it right back on his neck.

Sora shivers in his seat, despite the warmth of the islands, despite his black coat clinging to his frightened form. He's all but forgotten the chessboard by now, barely even cares about the game at all, even as his master orders him to make his next move.

"Tread carefully, my thirteenth," Xehanort cautions, smiling. "Your king is just about cornered."

"You said you would find someone else to replace him," Sora whirls around to face his master, his heart racing all the while. "Was that someone… me?"

His master's treacherous grin deepens, and that's all the answer Sora needs. At first, he thinks this could be the end of it, his mind racing with rapid theories to tie up any last loose ends. Maybe Xehanort had planted the necklace on the islands after stealing it back from his son, maybe his father had happened to stumble upon it, maybe the necklace is all one big coincidence altogether. Maybe his master saw his son come up short and decided to set his sights elsewhere, maybe upon the same boy who had thwarted his Heartless and Nobody before. Maybe none of it is connected, maybe none of it really means anything at all, maybe…

Maybe he's setting his hopes far too high.

"Sora," Xehanort says after his vessel makes another haphazard move across the board. "Have you ever wondered why you were able to summon a Keyblade?"

As scrambled as his thoughts currently are, Sora can barely even muster an answer for such an unrelated question. "I-I… uh… it's because Riku's Keyblade passed over him and went to me instead-"

"That's why you have the specific Keyblade that you do," Xehanort corrects him, shaking his head. "I'm talking about why you're able to summon a Keyblade at all. By most accounts, that's impossible, unless someone is bequeathed one by a Keyblade master… or if someone in their family was before them, but that person never managed to call upon a Keyblade of their own…"

Though his master hasn't struck him, Sora feels like he's been punched in the gut all the same. He feels sick as he grips the edge of the chessboard for support, the terrible thought dawning on him even more than it already had been before. A thought he desperately doesn't want to be true, despite all of the emerging evidence pointing toward it. "N-no," he chokes, his voice barely even audible.

"Inheriting a Keyblade is a rather rare phenomenon," Xehanort says smoothly, smugly. "You ought to consider it quite an honor, Sora. Especially when you consider who you inherited that Keyblade from…"

Sora shakes his head, tears filling his eyes as his claws dig into the edge of the table. "No…" he mutters weakly, woefully. "I… Y-you… you're not-"

"Keep watching, boy," Xehanort instructs as the play island becomes the open yard behind a house. A house that Sora knows all too well this time. "You might be surprised by what you'll learn…"

Xehanort's son is a man now; not just a man, but a father as he holds a snoozing baby in his arms. Sora draws in an unsteady breath as he slowly rises to stand, his master surprisingly not ordering him to return to his seat as he approaches the porch the man is rocking his baby on. He sings a song Sora can't quite hear, smiling fondly down at his child all the while. It's a peaceful, nearly comforting scene… one that's all too quickly shattered when Xehanort arrives to ruin it.

"My, my, boy, how time flies," Xehanort grins as he steps onto the porch. His son swiftly rises to his feet, tense and angry as he holds his baby protectively close. Sora stands by, frozen in fear as he tries to tell himself that what he's seeing isn't real, that none of this is true, it can't be true. And yet… "It seems as though you have a child of your own to sing it to. How… charming." Xehanort holds his arms out expectantly, even though his son initially pulls the baby away from him. "Really, boy? You would deny me the right to meet my first and only grandson?"

"No…" Sora draws in a sharp breath, a clawed hand covering his mouth. He steps in closer to the baby, able to see it as clearly as he can his master. The newborn's first few locks of hair are brown, and as he groggily opens his eyes when his father hands him over… Sora can see they're the exact same shade of blue his very own used to be. "No," he backs away, as if even looking at the baby has scorched him. But what burns even more is the sight of Xehanort holding that baby, that his father had simply let such a thing happen.

That any of this is even happening at all.

Xehanort is silent for a moment as he looks the baby over, not even seeming to care as the child begins whimpering in his hold. "Noisy little thing, isn't he?" he remarks condescendingly. "You'll want to break him of that loathsome habit as quickly as you can."

"He's just a baby," his son counters crossly. "Babies cry. I don't need any of your parental advice, by the way. We're handling him just fine on our own."

"Clearly," Xehanort rolls his eyes before settling his sights back on the baby. "Did you give this spawn of yours a suitable name, at the very least?"

The man lets out a deep breath, and when he speaks, he unknowingly shatters someone's world to pieces. "Sora. His name is Sora."

His name is Sora. He's Himari's son. He's Tsuki's son. He's Thalassa's grandson. And he's Xehanort's…

He's Xehanort's…

"NO!" he screams as he falls to his knees, black spikes tearing through the illusion all around him. His voice hitches into a sharp, anguished yell, his claws digging into his hair on either side of his head as the horrid truth fully falls upon him. As he realizes that his life was over before it even began, that his destiny really was decided for him from the very start. That his history, his heritage, his very bloodline itself is tainted with darkness right from the vile root of it all.

He's barely even had a few seconds to let it all sink in before his master is standing over him. Xehanort places a steady hand upon his shoulder, a cruel smile painted on his face as he speaks to the heartbroken boy with devious delight. "This is my gift to you, Sora," he says as his vessel continues loudly weeping before him. "The story of my family–our family… the knowledge of the past we share… and hope for the future we shall forge together…"

Even as overwhelmed as he is, Sora roughly pulls his shoulder away. He doesn't know why his master is allowing him this much freedom, and right now, he couldn't be bothered to care. "You're lying!" he shouts hotly as he swiftly rises to stand. His fangs are bared, his claws lashed out as he stands small, but fierce against his master. Against the very man he owes his life to, far more than he ever could have known before. "I-It's not true, it can't be! My dad couldn't… h-he isn't-"

"Tsuki is my son," Xehanort counters, taking a step closer to the boy. He forces Sora to stay still, searing pain shooting through his heart that scarcely compares to what's flooding through his mind. Especially as his master holds the charm of his necklace in his palm once more. "And if that's the case, then I believe, Sora, that makes you… my grandson."

"Stop!" Sora pulls back, ripping his necklace away. As the only piece of his father he has left, he refuses to let it be ruined by such vicious lies. Even if he's starting to doubt if they're even lies at all.

"If you refuse to see the truth in my memories, then perhaps a glimpse at your one of own will show you all you need to know," Xehanort changes the scene around them one final time. They're on the shore of the main island, dusk hanging heavy as Sora spots his father strolling down them. This time, he can fully see his face, and after years without him, even this faded image is more than enough to bring fresh tears to Sora's eyes.

"D-Dad…" he steps forward, only stopping when he finally spots himself sitting on his father's shoulders. He's younger, of course, only about three or four as he laughs alongside his dad, completely free of any of the pain or sorrow he knows now. Sora can't help but be envious of the child, of everything he used to have, of just how innocent, just how happy he used to be.

And yet even back then, it seemed as though that happiness was never meant to last.

"What a touching display… It seems almost… familiar. Wouldn't you agree, Tsuki?"

The man's voice is immediately recognizable, but within the projection of one of Sora's earliest memories, his face is blurred. Even so, he knows his master when he sees him, even if his younger self doesn't.

"That stranger on the beach…" he mutters as the distant memory starts to come back to him.

"Isn't much of a stranger anymore…" Xehanort places a hand on the boy's shoulder as they both watch that memory unfold.

"What are you doing here?" Tsuki asks crossly as he lowers Sora from his shoulders. The boy's formerly cheery smile is gone, replaced with a terrified look as he clings onto his father's leg, staring up at his future master with wide, worried eyes. "Why do you keep coming back into my life? How many times do I have to turn you away!?"

Xehanort ignores him, his gaze instead focusing on the frightened boy by his son's side. "Hello there, young one," he says with an air of false kindness. "I see you've grown in leaps and bounds since the last time we met. You wouldn't happen to remember me, would you, Sora?"

The child doesn't answer outside of shaking his head, pulling in closer to his father for protection. Sora wonders how, even at such a young age, he knew his future master was someone worth fearing, someone he didn't want to speak to, someone he didn't want to be around, someone he didn't want anything to do with whatsoever.

"Don't speak to my son," Tsuki echoes the same sentiment as he holds his son tight.

"Impetuous as ever, child," the old man scowls, finally regarding his son. "I didn't come here to entertain you, Tsuki; I came because I would like to spend some… quality time with your dear boy here…"

Even back then, even back then, his master wanted to take him away from everything he'd ever known, from his family, his home, his life that had only just begun. He can't imagine what would have become of him if his father had agreed, if Xehanort had swept him away to a life lived fully in the shadows. Fortunately though, Tsuki was a much better father than his own father ever could have been, which is why he swiftly, staunchly refuses such an unnerving proposal. "No," he fixes his father with a fierce scowl. "I don't want you anywhere near him. I don't need you, and Sora doesn't either."

"Oh, Tsuki," Xehanort nearly laughs. "Sora needs me far more than you could ever know…"

In the present, Sora tenses the same exact way his father does at such a twisted comment. Tsuki quickly glances down at the child, who's all but whimpering as Xehanort's intent, interested focus lands on him once more. "Sora, head home to Mama," he instructs gently, yet firmly. "Papa will catch up with you in just a minute, ok?"

Sora readily complies, running away from this strange man and his strange words as he flees for the safety of his nearby home. As soon as the child disappears from sight, the scene fades, as does the island itself. The pristine halls of Xehanort's suite return in full, and as Sora watches the illusion of father slowly disappear, his heart plummets as he finally, fully realizes he has no choice but to accept the terrible truth.

"I… I remember now…" he begins distantly, despondently. "I was so scared of you, even back then… D-Dad… Dad told me to just… forget that I ever saw you… He said I'd never have to see you again…"

"Your father was wrong about a great many things, my boy." Xehanort grips his shoulder just a bit tighter. "Your mind may have forgotten, but your heart never did. Like it or not, you and I are family, my thirteenth. You have belonged to me far before you ever stepped foot in this castle, far before there was ever a piece of my own heart in yours. You are my heir, child, in all the ways your father never could have been. You are the one destined to usher our bloodline into greatness beyond compare. And I know, without a doubt, Sora, that you will make your grandfather proud…"

Sora can do nothing but let out a heavy sob as his master turns him around to face him. Xehanort's triumphant grin remains as he opens his arms wide to the boy, forcing his body to obey as he slowly steps into the man's inviting, awful embrace.

"G-Grandfather…" he whimpers against his will. He doesn't want to call his master something so familial, doesn't want to see this wicked man as his family at all. But in the end, what else can he do? He can't deny the connection between them, just as he can't deny the darkness strangling his shattered heart. Darkness that, as he now realizes, has always been a part of him, flowing through his blood from the very day he was born, through his father's blood before him, through the blood of the very man who begot them both.

"Welcome home, my dearest grandson…" Xehanort grins as the boy begins sobbing into his shoulder. He lets him cry freely, amused by his grandson's sorrow, entertained by just how broken the boy really is. By how he's so utterly corrupted such a special, fragile crown. "And happy birthday. Soon, so very soon… the very purpose you were born for can finally unfold…"

Sora's barely even listening by this point as he clings onto his master–his grandfather, hating him, hating his horrific heritage, hating himself for being a part of such a twisted, tainted legacy. He could have never escaped this, he should have never even tried; this was always where he was meant to be from the very second his life began. As such, it's no wonder that he's turned out the way that he is: a dark, deplorable shadow, never meant to be among the companionship of the lights, just like his grandfather before him. Through his own flesh and blood, he was never meant to become anything more than an heir to a throne of the deepest, most despicable darkness there is.

In his unshakable sorrow, he doesn't even notice his grandfather reaching past him, back to the chessboard right behind them both. Xehanort proudly pushes his final piece forward, surrounding Sora's king as he captures the coveted piece for himself. Just as he captured the very child that piece represents in every way imaginable. Just as he proudly hails his victory against his grandson… in this game and so many others:

"Checkmate."


SO. YEAH. THAT HAPPENED. Before ya'll start screaming at me, let me say this twist is something I've been planning for SOOOOOO Long now! I've written and drawn so much content for it that I haven't been able to share widely, and I'm just in awe that it's finally out in the open for everyone to see! I understand it might be a bit... controversial, but I hope you still enjoy it all the same! Please let me know what you think of it, of all this really, in the REVIEW! Next time around, I think we oughta take a break from the Org. though to see what the lights are up to, hm? So, until next time! :3