What We Do: Chapter 9

Marluxia and Zexion had been taken back through the jungle, trailed by a pack of prepubescent boys, most even shorter than Zexion. Larxene led at the front, strutting as only she could. The boys must have been the cause of the rain of small, hard objects only moments ago. They seemed curious and effervescent, but Larxene had only twisted around and hollered at them to get them to shut up and follow quietly

They didn't talk much until they got back to a series of large, hollowed-out trees. Zexion and Marluxia were led to some fur mats on the floor where they settled themselves down, not too close to each other, but not too far away, either.

Marluxia's eyes hadn't left Larxene. When she faced him, he looked upon her frazzled hair and strong jaw. When she turned around, he looked at her back. She didn't seem to acknowledge either of them too much, instead focusing herself on ordering the boys around her with a pointed finger and stern words toward those who were ogling and asking questions. Her voice didn't pierce or screech like Marluxia had expected. Instead, she seemed to have taken up a strange role-like an older sister to these bedraggled, smudged children, tutting them along.

When the last one finally scurried out of the room and let the flap down behind him, she whirled straight around, staring down at the two of them. "How?" She nearly demanded. "How are you here?"

"How," Zexion cut in, thoroughly disturbed by this sudden change in her demeanor from the witch he had once known. "How did you end up like this?"

She put her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes at the schemer. "Like what, Bookboy? I'd like to see where you ended up for three years. Like to see you get on with a bunch of miniature terrors. Worse than you, even."

Ah, yes. Marluxia couldn't help but smile as he saw what he had hoped he would see-that spark, that old personality that even nonexistence hadn't kept at bay.

"Look at you," Zexion continued. "You look terrible. You're leading a band of toddlers."

"Hey." She came over to crouch down in front of Zexion to become eye-level with him, purely animalistic, cat-like. "Why don't you shut the hell up? Or would you rather I throw you out to the boys so you can play with kiddies your own size while me and Marluxia have a little chat? Take your pick."

Zexion looked about to push himself up to engage in something more forceful, but Marluxia's arm held him down. "Sit. Be silent."

Grudgingly, the schemer watched as the other man stood, bringing himself face to face with Larxene, wishing to have a private conversation with her. With Zexion, that was hard, but he could at least pretend like they were alone.

"Larxene," he reached out to her, no hesitance when he put his arms around her. He could feel her curves, still, underneath the layers of furs and belts that had hidden them at first glance. She was painted and speckled with dirt, but the rosy flush of her cheeks and the tint of her lips were still vibrant.

She embraced him back, genuinely glad for this sign of her past life, no matter how random the occurrence seemed. "You've got to be one lucky bastard. Or this is a joke, since I never knew that we couldjump worlds or anything anymore."

"Joke's on me if we couldn't." He drew the scythe shard from the place at his neck, and he could tell in her cornflower-blue eyes that she knew exactly what it was. Even as he explained everything about his search, his coming across Zexion, the world web and resonance, she proved her cleverness. Larxene was ready, poised, as if this whole time, she had just been on an extended mission. And here she was, back at Marluxia's side. Back with the one man who she knew could rule every world, every universe. The man she spent so many nights pruning with, confiding in, engaging in mutual games of mind and wit. This was not a new chapter-just a continuation of the old.

"Watch," she hissed to him, close enough to graze his ear with her whispers. "Watch, we'll do it this time. Nothing's slowing us down. Not Xemnas, not the rest of the Organization. McPuny here, wellwe can drop him off with my boys and no one will be any the wiser, hmm? You and me, like the good old days, just like-"

Even though she still granted him that same shivering burst of empowerment, that same instant dose of confidence, he had to grasp her arms and take a few steps away from her. "Larxene."

She frowned, looking back at him, not sure what she was supposed to see. Something different? Something changed? It had been three years, yes, but had it really taken so much of Marluxia's will away? Larxene could barely believe it, waiting for his answer and hoping it was better than whatever explanation she was beginning to formulate.

"I can't go back that way. I'm not traveling worlds for power anymore. At least not right now. It's wonderful to see you again, but this isn'tthis isn't what I'm here for."

Larxene pressed her lips together, then twisted her spine around to check the door to make sure no one was listening in. She knew now. "He won't see you, you know. Even if you manage to find him, he won't see you."

Somewhere across the room, Zexion snorted.

Larxene afforded him one small glance out of the corner of her eye, as if debating whether or not to go over and rip out a chunk of his hair, but decided instead to sigh, coming closer to Marluxia to hush their conversation more. "Look, dollI was there when you broke him. And I heard him at night, all the way down the hall. And I was there when you gave Axel the order. You can't pretend as though he'd ever want to even think about you anymore."

Holding his jaw tight, he mulled over her words. "You've always stood next to me. You and I promised each other the impossible-that we'd fight for worlds and power until nothing was too large to be crushed under our feet." One hand lifted to press against her face, his thumb running over her cheek, smearing the paint away. "I need you to do that for me again. Promise me the impossible, Larxene. Promise me Vexen will forgive me."

Zexion watched the both of them, drawn into the way they interacted, as though no time had passed. Marluxia calmed her with his grace and she, in return, offered him a vivacity that he did not have on his own.

A small smile spread upon Larxene's lips underneath the soot. She gave Marluxia's arm a playful punch. "We've got this. By the time we're through, that man will be begging you to come to him."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," he shook his head, unable to help the contagiousness of her smile. "But if you'll stand by me, perhapsperhaps we'll get what I need." As if just noticing him, she spotted Zexion still sitting on the fur mat, knees drawn up to his chest. "And let me guess-shrimpy here has his own man to play fetch for."

"Shut it, Larxene," he hissed. "I can't believe I have to deal with both of you morons."

"Hit him again," Larxene ordered, perched on the mantle of the white fireplace. The flames licked underneath her, but she hardly cared. All but one of her kunai was buried in the wood at her hip. She was delicately cleaning underneath her nails with the other.

"I'm not going to hit him yet," Marluxia protested. "He's been a good boy all evening. Haven't you?"

I could barely keep the acid out of my voice. "If you'd stop being so condescending"

Marluxia had kept his word. Every move I made under his guiding hand got me the rewards I needed. The letters to Xemnas in my favor were flowing from Castle Oblivion, simply bursting until the point where even the vivacious Number Nine was having trouble wanting to portal in and out as the messenger. All it took was separating myself from Zexion and Lexaeus, keeping myself silent in his presence (though no one could keep my silent when I was alone. At one point, I was sure the walls of my laboratory had had enough), and this.

He was buried inside me.

He was not a careless lover. And he was not an inexperienced one, either. He was not a lover, quite frankly, though sometimes he pretended he was. When he was rough, it was to hear me snarl and bark and to feel my nails against him. It was him exerting power over me, a wolf hunched over his bitch. When he was gentle and feigning passion, it was as a reward, though I had to admit that I hardly reacted to that sort of passion other than to lie still and allow him. Perhaps that is why he preferred the former more often.

I didn't like any of it, and yet I found myself obeying. Even when I saw the gag in Marluxia's hand, resignation had begun the minute I entered into his chambers. After a while, I grew used to it. It became less painful or, rather, I grew mechanisms to help overcome it. Soon pain was only a secondary way for Marluxia to torment me when he was in one of his moods. Humiliation became the first.

And that was how it came to be that Larxene found her front row seat on Marluxia's mantle. It turned out she had her itches to scratch and Marluxia was the only one here who could fulfill them for her. Not because she let him touch her, oh no. I'd never seen him touching Larxene. It was because he could exhibit the twisted material that she reveled in watching.

"Give him this, then," she demanded, pulling one of her kunai from the woodwork and bending down to stick the tip into the heat of the flames. "If you're not going to hit him, then give him a little something to suck on."

I watched as Marluxia turned his head toward her to consider, the column of his neck stark in the firelight. He seemed undecided; he was weighing the benefits and disadvantages. I had been compliant that evening, relatively sound. But now that he had Larxene here, he had to keep her content and shrieking, too. Finally, he glanced back at me. Our eyes met.

"Don't." I ordered, temper beginning to flare up.

His expression didn't change from that semi-bored, disinterested leer. "Larxene-"

"Don't you dare."

Marluxia ignored me. "-bring it here if you so insist."

Triumphant, she scooted down from her perch and sauntered toward the bed. Her form was outlined black against the firelight backlighting. Only the red glow from the tip of her kunai remained to light up the bare contours of her face. She was smiling.

Strong fingers pried my jaw open. They were Marluxia's fingers, which tightened as I tried to swear at him, my eyes never losing their venom. He looked down his nose, arrogance written in every feature, every gesture. And I hated him.

"Just think of it as a spicy lollypop, hmm?" Larxene's voice tugged at the hairs on my neck. Her arm pressed across my chest. "Ay caramba."

Red glow filled my vision until I was looking nearly cross-eyed. I felt the heat on my face, blistering my lips as it passed. I took a deep breath, because I would need it.