A/N: Woohoo, my favorite so far!
Riku tells you that you've been talking in your sleep, thrashing, sometimes yelling. You've been shouting yourself hoarse, apparently, berating invisible people for their wrongdoings. "Xehanort," you moan at times. Sometimes, "Ienzo," or the others. You don't remember most of the dreams, and you're grateful for that. The ones you do remember are full of 'darkness,' of empty eyes and betrayal and hollow, walking corpses which were once your boys, your apprentices; and most of all, Xehanort, Xemnas, the one whose shadow took your name and corrupted it, turned it into something evil.
You sleep less and less as the dreams get worse. Riku remarks on it; you tell him it's nothing to worry about. You never slept much anyway, so it isn't too hard of a shift.
It troubles you, that you should be so consumed by hatred and thoughts of vengeance. However, it is all that holds you together, the only thing that protects your heart from the darkness surrounding it.
You still don't like to look at yourself in the mirror… you don't like seeing the stranger in the glass, this dark skin which reminds you so much of the treacherous apprentice, the cloak and gloves and bandages which you imposed upon yourself to hide from your enemies.
Enemies… how did it come to this? Cannot a man trust his own children, never having to fear that they will turn on him? Cannot he divulge his greatest secrets, teach them his trade, mold them and raise them to be miniature echoes of himself?
The worst thing is that they are just like you, or like you were in your youth: eager to learn, to achieve, to hold dominion over something by learning everything about it. They became tiny Ansems, each one taking a different aspect of your personality. Elaeus took your patience, Ienzo your stubbornness. Dian received your responsibility, Braig your rare moments of humor, Even your logic and enthusiasm. Xehanort inherited your ingenuity, your determination, your curiosity… all acceptable qualities, but when coupled with Xehanort's naïveté and— there's no other term for it— madness, a deadly combination.
In fact, they became so like you that one of them strove to become you entirely, and ended up subverting the others. But they are all at fault… they betrayed you. They all turned their backs on you, became your rivals, your… betters.
How did it come to this?
17. Ansem/Sleep