A/N: lol how do i character development


"A trip?"

Xehanort patted his mouth clean and removed the napkin from his chest. A servant immediately moved to clean up the space.

"Yes. I'm to present some inventions of mine at the Diamond Dust Convention in a week."

Vanitas knew of Xehanort's study beneath the estate. It was the one place he wasn't allowed to enter. Well, one of two given that the head chef got particularly angry when he wandered into the kitchen. Perhaps it explained the mystery man's appearances prior. Dr. Falicier had not visited for the past month which Vanitas found curious, but chose not to dwell too much on it.

"Am I going with you?"

"Consider this an opportunity of independent study. You will not have any training or tutelage, but it is not an invitation to slack off."

And so, on the Sunday morning of his departure, Vanitas headed for the back yard with Void on his shoulder, idly scratching behind his ears with one hand and the other holding on to a thick book. This volume wasn't included in his initial collection, instead borrowed from the manor library. It surprised him that a man like Xehanort would have fiction, even more so fairy tales. A book was still a book, and he could probably learn something from it without it putting him entirely to sleep.

The air was comfortably brisk, but he still wore his overcoat. Void curled in his lap as he sat down in one of the benches of the gazebo, opening to the title that caught his eye, Snow White.


Monday came quicker than expected, and Vanitas had fallen into his old habit of forgetting to do anything else but read. Void's incessant meowing reminded him that there were two mouths to feed.

The pangs of hunger gnawed at his stomach and it was an enlightening feeling, having people do as he said when he said it. Omelet was young, chatty and someone he enjoyed teasing. But the other servants were quiet, and mature. Respecting one's elders was standard knowledge growing up. The way they called him Young Master even without Xehanort's presence, it was like commanding an army.

When he called, they answered. He wanted a breakfast of chicken and biscuits, it was received. Void had been given his own saucer of chicken Vanitas personally tore to shreds under the table.

"Good day Young Master."

"Good afternoon Young Master."

Formerly suppressed memories of his masters crawled into his vision with tendrils of negativity he couldn't will down without a distraction. From the height of the sun, around this time he would be training. Dilan wasn't there, instead he accompanied Xehanort.

The people who owned him were nobles too. He remembered their nonchalant stares when he was tired, dizzy from heat or shivering in the cold of night. But he had to do what they said or else he'd get a whip at his back or, if one wasn't readily available, a belt across his face.

Vanitas touched the side of his mouth and looked up, spotting the youngest maid carrying a wide basket of white cloth his direction.

What was the difference between the servants here and the slaves out there?

She stopped to curtsey, though little effort went into it with the basket, and kept walking.

"You."

Pausing mid stride, she turned on her heels.

"Olette. My name, Young Master, is Olette. " she insisted.

"Wonderful. Come to the training room in twenty minutes."

Her eyes lingered on the basket and then back to Vanitas.

"I'm sorry but I have duties to attend to. And I'm not sure how training with a maid will do you any good."

"I didn't say you would be training with me. I just need you to do something while I train."

"But- my duties-"

"Get someone else to do it. Twenty minutes. Get moving."

Huffing in defeat, Olette turned back around to find someone to bare her burden.

Vanitas stretched in his normal training clothes and rolled his elbows at the appointed time. Void was safely locked in his room and he only hoped the cat would scratch its post and not the dresser.

"I'm here." Olette announced, staring at the rack of swords with worry.

"Fascinating. Start on Cinderella."

Biting back a retort, Olette accepted the heavy book and flittered through the pages until finding the right one. As she began reading, Vanitas had settled onto the floor to do pushups.

This was a lot more efficient. Olette was fortunately literate and had a clear voice. He could hear her easily with the echo of the room even over the sound of the wood sword cutting air.

However, the story was not even half read by the time Olette's voice began to waver and she went silent several times. Stopping his sword mid swing, Vanitas raised an eyebrow.

"Why did you stop?"

As though talking pained her, Olette pointed to her throat.

"Water. Please?"

"You're not the one swinging a sword, why should you get water?"

Eyebrows raised high, Olette did her best to show indignation and offense.

"Well excuse me but I've been sitting here reading nonstop. It makes you thirsty."

"And? You can get a drink later."

She had been sitting on the floor and stood, pressing down her uniform and storming to the door.

"Hey!" Vanitas barked.

Olette almost made her escape when Vanitas yanked her by her wrist.

"I didn't say you could leave!"

She said nothing and struggled. Vanitas was much stronger but her thrashing was wilder, and she knocked into the thick wood. It was hard keeping a firm grip on her. His arm wrapped around her front and he held on tight.

"Let go! I'm not-"

Memories of being held by the hair bubbled up like a black tar and stuck to the corners of his eyes. The push and pull of her smaller frame reflected a mirror in his mind of trying to break the grip that held him.

The sting of a hand across his face stunned him long enough for her to wrench herself free and stumble to the door. By the time he got to it, she was halfway down the hall and not looking back.


Braig was impossible to read at any given time. It was hard to tell if he was angry, disappointed, or didn't care. He paced the width of the room twice. Void lay upon Vanitas' bed and the boy in question sat in one of the chairs beside the window.

"You know, a crying girl at your door is never a good thing. Means someone screwed up- big time." Braig stopped, turned, and stared down to Vanitas. "And I'd say someone really screwed up."

Vanitas crossed his arms and stared back defiantly.

"She's my servant, so I own her."

Braig's eyes fell flat in a deadpan stare.

"A servant, yes. But not a slave." He approached Vanitas then, stopping a short distance away. "And she isn't yours. See, you don't get to thrash around little girls here. She wanted the job, I approved, and Master Xehanort whipped up some nice contracts to get her to be employed."

Another step.

"You don't own anything."

Vanitas was staring up now as Braig loomed over him with narrowed eyes.

"By golly." He smirked, chuckling dryly. "Not even two whole days and you've gone thinking you're king of the castle. But you know what kid?"

Kid.

The word cut deep and Vanitas' scowl deepened.

"This is Master Xehanort's estate. You just live here. Adopted son you may be, but trust me, you aren't recognized as anyone's heir around here."

Vanitas rose and balled his fists at his sides. Braig was still much taller than him and he squared his shoulders, looking up.

"You can't talk to me like that." He ground from his teeth.

"I am. I've heard about your escapades to the servants quarters. It ends now."

In a flare of indignation, Vanitas backhanded Braig across his cheek. A second passed and Vanitas was confused. He was sure he struck him. The ache of hitting a strong cheekbone was proof. Braig did not flinch or look pained. Instead, his eyes regarded Vanitas as though he were as insignificant as a mosquito.

Back perfectly straight, Braig took a single step back and turned to walk out. Just as he opened the door, he stopped to speak once more.

"Grow up. You've got a lot of learning to do."


Journal Entry…

I finished Cinderella.

It makes sense your servant would try to run away from you.

I guess I should have seen it coming.

I didn't have to wear any hot iron shoes or dance in them to death, but I still understand why it happened to the stepmother. After all I-

Looks like I wasted another page on rambling and scribbles.


The next morning, Olette was greeted with a tin pitcher of water and equally shiny mug. The maid who handed it to her shrugged.