A/N: Editing takes way longer than it should. T_T
::III::
oblivion's castle
"As you say," was her rasped response, and she hid her surprise well. A mission with another member? It was never required of her before—avoided for very good reason.
Saïx had seemed to give the order reluctantly, she noticed. Like he, too, found the notion distasteful. Regardless, it was the Superior's will and therefore had to be done.
Dexné took the mission briefing papers Saïx handed her. While doing so, she got caught on his eyes. Once again something…
Something was bothering her.
It was prickling incessantly at the back of her mind. Before it was his hair that she found distracting, and now his eyes…
…they were…
…not right.
His eyes were wrong.
She didn't know why she thought that. Did Saïx not always have golden yellow eyes? Dexné was not completely sure if she was integrated into the Organization before The Luna Diviner. Perhaps, it was likely. And not once did she see Saïx with any other eye color.
Why, then, were thoughts popping into her head telling her otherwise?
Wrong, wRonG, ɯɾσɳɠ color, wrong color, ɯɾσɳɠ—
"Nulla, that is all. Go. You have your orders."
She blinked, and realized she'd been standing there with her arm still outstretched, the papers in hand.
"As you say," she rasped again. She quickly tucked the papers in a hidden pocket and turned on her heel, marching out of the Grey Area. Unconsciously she tightened her hood. How stupid she must have looked, standing there like that. Humiliation was not something she was subjected to anymore, and for that she was grateful.
Number XIII did not see her as she passed him in the dark hall. That obliviousness could hurt him on a mission, she thought. He needed to work on his awareness. She wasn't even trying to hide. Or perhaps, because it was the castle, he wasn't trying either. What was going to hurt him here? He was headed to the Grey Area for his mission no doubt, while she was headed for her room to prepare for what would probably be an extended mission. She faintly heard Roxas call for Axel, then Saïx's brisk reply faded as she became too far to hear.
In her room, Dexné gathered hi-potions, elixirs, and panaceas—storing them in the hidden pockets throughout her long coat. She fit them in snugly so they did not rattle when she moved. For larger inner pockets, she fit the potions in with handkerchiefs to prevent them from clanking together.
She could afford no noise in any mission, especially this one. Dexné's primary skill was remaining undetected, her second skill was evasion, and her third…
Her eyes combed the mission brief.
Her third skill was the dead last resort—to be used when all else fails.
Can you feel the pull, the pUll, the PulL, the pull of—
Dexné lowered the papers from her face and stared hard at the bare wall. She wondered what it would mean for Axel to fail. Would he…die? The thought made her uncomfortable. Very, very much so, in fact. The more she thought of it, the more—
Dizziness suddenly overcame her and she swayed. Her lightheadedness evaporated for a moment, but then it reared around and hit her harder. She in turn hit the floor. She crawled to the wall, leaned her weight against it as she tried to stand.
But then she stopped.
Stopped resisting.
More pieces were falling into place.
"Because we're friends now. Get it memorized."
In the past she sat where she usually sat, her knees drawn up to her chest, her back against a rough brick wall. She waited or the morning bell to ring, trying to think of anything besides Lea's words. But they wouldn't go away, like an annoying echo that kept going and going.
Dexné didn't hold much value in the things people said. People say lots of things, only to turn around and do something completely different. So she didn't really expect anything from the lithe redhead.
Although…
Maybe she hoped…
She sighed, deep and despondent. No, there was no use in hoping. It would only lead to disappointment. She learned that the hard way, though present-time Dexné could not remember how.
She sat. She waited. She willed her thoughts to take another direction, away from Lea and his words.
But apparently that will was not very strong.
Friends…
What use were they? What use was she to them? She didn't know how to be a friend; no one ever gave her the chance to learn. She was passed by—she let them pass her by. It was safer in the shadow. There was no risk, no…disappointment. From her or anyone else.
The shadows are safe. The shadows are freedom from...
The bell had yet to ring. Either it was late (erratic as it was, it still stayed within a certain time range) or Dexné arrived earlier than usual. Maybe she did. She sighed heavily through her nose, resting her chin on her knees. No, she knew she did. She noted the time before she left the house. She just… She didn't want to admit it was done purposely. She didn't want to admit she hoped…
Whatever. It didn't matter. Everything would go back to the way it was. Lea would pass her by just like everyone else. And the sad part was she didn't blame him for it.
There it is. That uncomfortable, sinking feeling in her chest. Disappointment. Words meant nothing.
"People are such…liars," she mumbled, staring at her plain brown shoes as she hugged her knees tighter.
"Who's a liar?"
She stiffened, stopped breathing. Her eyes traveled diagonally from brown shoes to red, white, and black shoes. Then stayed glued there.
He tapped her on the head. "Hey, you there?"
She slowly looked up, all the while trying to think what to say. Normally her mind went nonstop with musings and daydreams. But when it really counted, her mind was blank. Lea watched her, waiting. Dexné scanned for any sign of anger, any sign of danger. She needed to know if she had to run. Though, as Dexné thought back on that moment, it seemed like an overreaction on her part. All she saw from Lea was mild confusion and concern.
"You okay? Who lied?"
Dexné shook her head, but then quickly nodded. "I'm fine. It's nothing. It's just…something I read in a book. A story."
Stupid, she immediately thought after giving her answer. He must think she's so stupid. But he gave no indication of that. He just shrugged and said, "Okay."
Then began the awkward silence—something Dexné could sprout with ease. And she was not good at ending such silences either.
"So…" He shifted. "You look dead today. Didn't sleep well?"
She shook her head slowly, to give her time to rehearse her reply in her head. "No, I… I do not sleep well at night."
"But no problem sleeping during class, am I right?" He grinned. "Same here."
Dexné blinked, then nodded stiffly. One second he wasn't smiling, then in the next he was. And he spoke with no hesitation, like it required no extensive thought or planning. Like it was easy for him, like the words just came. Dexné wished it could be that way for her.
"Hey, remember when I said I wanted to introduce you to somebody?" He motioned for her to get up. "Let's go see him now."
She followed behind him, keeping with his quick pace. They weaved past clusters of students through the halls until they ended up in front of the library entrance. Lea pushed open one side of the double door, holding it for her as she went in.
The library was quiet, and that seemed abnormal after coming from the white-noise chatter in the halls. There were a few students scattered around. A couple of them were browsing through books, others looked to be catching up on homework at the various study tables. That was where Lea led her next. They walked up to a table where one boy sat, his nose in an astrophysics book with a few more books neatly stacked beside him. The first defining feature Dexné noticed about him was his hair.
It was blue.
"Yo, Isa," Lea not-really-whispered, "look who I brought."
Isa put his book down and looked up. His eyes were green, almost the same shade as Lea's. He raised his eyebrows in an unimpressed way. "This is the stray puppy?"
"Her name's - - - -." Lea smiled brightly, then pointed to himself with his thumb. "She thinks I'm awesome."
Dexné stared with wide, petrified eyes. Her frizzy mind recalled her stance in the classroom for him the other day as an explanation for the statement.
Isa snorted. "That makes one of us."
Lea looked at her, gesturing towards Isa. "The grump's name is Isa."
"Nice to meet you," Isa said without missing a beat. He stood, gathering his books like he knew he wasn't going to get anymore studying done with Lea there. He was tall, his hair was short, the top part was slicked back but then spiked upwards near the back. Like it was a last minute act of rebellion. He looked intimidating in his crisp white pants, black shoes, and navy jacket. There was a yellow crescent moon printed on the left breast of the jacket.
The first thing that popped in Dexné's head when noting his full appearance was that he looked the part of some aristocratic lord. She'd never say it out loud—it sounded silly even in her head. But she justified it because he acted dignified like a lord...though his hair made her think he had quite the latent rebellious streak.
He seemed much the opposite of Lea, whose casual tan baggy pants, sleeveless orange jacket and white undershirt spoke in contrast to Isa's neatly pressed attire.
As for Dexné: brown shoes, a long gray skirt, and a modest white shirt. What did that say about her? That she was bland?
The bell rang, saving Dexné from conversation. Or attempted—no, failed conversation on her part.
She had no idea what to make of the encounter. Or the way Lea and Isa acted toward each other. Were they insulting? Or joking? They continued their banter all the way to their homerooms.
Isa stopped outside of HR3, watching as Lea went past. "You're always going on about getting things memorized and you can't even remember your own homeroom?"
Lea waved him off. "I know where it is! I'm just taking - - - - to hers."
Isa raised a brow. "Did she forget, too?"
Lea stuck his tongue out at him and continued walking, a confused Dexné ambling behind. "I'll be right back."
"I won't make excuses for you if you're late. Again." Lea stuck his tongue out at Isa once more. Dexné heard Isa chuckle quietly.
They went all the way down to her homeroom. Lea did a lazy wave. "We'll see ya later."
"Is he," Dexné spoke abruptly, loud enough to stop him, then struggled to form a coherent sentence. "Is… Did I make him angry?"
"Huh?"
"Isa. He…he seemed angry. Did I do something?"
"What? No! He's always like that." Lea smiled as if it were a good thing.
Dexné blinked. "Oh…"
"Don't worry. He'll get used to you." Another bell rang. "Uh-oh, gotta go!" Lea sprinted back to his homeroom.
For the second time Dexné was left standing there, confused. She methodically walked into her homeroom and sat quietly as the teacher took attendance.
Dexné remembered going through the day, same as usual. It seemed strange, faraway…like the morning was a dream.
Lunch time rolled around. She never went to the cafeteria. Too much noise. Once a group of boys chucked uneaten grapes at her as she sat alone at the end of their table. It wasn't her fault there was nowhere else to sit. That was the last time she ate in the cafeteria.
She walked the halls looking for a quiet, secluded place to eat the sandwich she carried in her bag with her books. It was probably squished flat, but that didn't bother her. It'd just make it easier to eat. Faster, too.
Unfortunately that day a hall monitoring teacher noticed her, telling her she absolutely could not eat anywhere but the cafeteria. Dexné couldn't remember her face or name, only that she was annoying. She marched Dexné to the cafeteria, then stayed in the hall so Dexné wouldn't be able to sneak out.
And so Dexné stood before a mass of students, awkwardly staring at her shoes. Of course hardly anyone noticed her entrance. They kept talking, eating, or whatever else they did during lunch. Even so, she'd been shoved from shadow, her safe haven, into the threatening light. She had no idea what to do. There were no spots for her to sit.
She stood there too long. Some students noticed and were throwing her weird looks. Dexné started scanning for alternative exits.
"Hey! Hey, - - - -!" That voice was Lea. She saw him standing, waving her over to his table. Isa sat beside him, quiet and composed. Seeing no other option, Dexné went over.
Isa grunted as Lea scooted, pushing him over to make room at the end of their bench. Dexné sat carefully, like she wasn't sure if she was truly welcome, even though Lea blatantly made room for her.
"We looked for you. Where've you been?"
She paused before answering, "I don't… I do not like coming to the cafeteria. It is too noisy." Her words: careful. Her tone: flat and controlled.
"Hmph. We share the same opinion then." That was Isa.
Lea looked between them. "Man, you guys are acting like robots or something. Lighten up!"
"Better than acting like a dork," retorted Isa.
"Hey!" Lea acted offended, but he was smiling. Isa also smiled…slightly.
Dexné did not understand.
Even then, she knew so little.
The memory faded out. The shards remaining of it…were too small for her to see clearly.
In the present, Dexné found herself kneeled, her forehead placed to the cold floor of her dark room.
Red. Blue.
Sun. Moon.
Lea. Isa.
Axel…and Saïx.
Castle Oblivion. Such a strange, foreboding place. Too many rooms to count. Too many halls to roam.
Too many little shadows cutting the white.
The outside of the castle belied the stark white interior. The odd angled roofs were turquoise, greenish in color. The stone exterior was a dark, dim gold. The front door was an obvious no-no. She entered through a window on one of the upper floors after scaling a side wall. Climbing wasn't that difficult for her; her slender feet and hands did well to slip into little crevices or balance on small ledges.
Dexné did what she did best; stay unseen. There were plenty of nook and crannies to hide in. She searched for the location of the others, then she waited. Then watched.
Marluxia was acting strangely. He seemed too…invested, excited even, and a Nobody should not be like that. But Dexné did not get to watch him long. He went out to lure the "Keyblade Hero" to the castle. Numbers IV, Vexen, V, Lexaeus, and VI, Zexion were lurking on one of the basement levels. Currently VIII, Axel and XII, Larxene were standing around the giant crystal globe—a strange device that recorded and displayed images from inside the castle. It was blank at the moment.
Things had yet to be thrown into motion.
"I'm so bored," Larxene complained.
"Just be patient. Things will get interesting soon enough," Lea—no, Axel, replied.
Larxene made a dissatisfied face. Silence ensued once more, then, "Whatever. I'm hungry." Larxene was swallowed up by a Dark Corridor, its darkness engulfing and receding like a wave.
Axel stood alone, arms crossed. His eyes were closed, like he was resting them.
Scraps of memories conflicted with what Dexné saw in the here and now. He was different, yet the same. Same hair color, same eyes. His hair used to be shorter, spiked upward, whereas now his hair was too long for that, and the red locks curved down just past his shoulders. Almost like a lion's mane. And she didn't remember him having those strange reverse-tear markings under his eyes. He was much, much taller too.
How much time had passed between then and now?
Axel shifted from one foot to the other, his eyes opening and looking for something. "Where are you?"
Where was who? Dexné wasn't sure, so she stayed put.
Axel sighed. "Nulla?"
That was her cue. She slid from the shadows. Her position was one that he could see, yet she kept close enough to the wall that she could quickly re-hide herself if need be.
"Oh good you're here." He didn't sound very sincere. "You know what you're doing, right?"
She was to study the behavior of every member, including Axel, to see who was truly loyal and who wasn't. But she wasn't going to say that out loud. That was between her and the Superior. Not even the mission briefing said anything about it; the papers only listed her as back-up.
"As ordered," was her reply, a whisper-rasp.
"Which was?" Axel's eyes were more different than she thought. Same color, yes. But…
They were empty. Cold.
Dexné suppressed a shiver. "Observe. Confirm. Verify. I am to interfere only if everything goes wrong."
Axel narrowed his eyes. "I'm confident it won't. You just stick to watching, I'll take care of everything else."
"…As you say." Dexné's eyes slid to a corner of the room, then narrowed. Since her face was hidden she turned her head so it was obvious where she was looking.
Axel followed her gaze. "Don't worry about that. She won't say anything. Will you, Naminé?"
The girl clutched tightly to her sketchbook, hunching her shoulders. She didn't speak, but quietly shook her head no in reply.
"See?" Axel waved a hand nonchalantly. "No problem."
Dexné hesitated. She normally wouldn't have a witness like this, normally wouldn't have come out of hiding, but Axel called her from the shadows. She did as told. If Number VIII said it was fine, who was she to defy?
Especially him. He's known as The Flurry of Dancing Flames. Even though his voice was cold, cOld, CoLd.
The girl in question was young, maybe in her early teens. Her eyes were blue and shone like the glassy eyes of a porcelain doll. She was blonde too, but unlike Dexné, whose darkened hair bordered on light brown, Naminé's hair was bright, almost platinum. Dexné could pick out many differences between her and the girl. But there were a few things that were similar. Too similar. It made Dexné uncomfortable somehow.
When she had yet to move Axel leaned forward and whispered, "You can go now."
Why did he sound so…patronizing? Was he usually like this? Dexné's fogged memory couldn't remember. Regardless, she tilted her head in a light bow, then returned to shadow.
Dexné realized this was going to be a long mission—longer than she first thought. Days longer. Most of the time was spent lying in wait.
It gave Dexné entirely too much time to think.
In her beginning months in the Organization her mind did not work like this. It thought of little, comprehended little, except her orders, her missions. But things were changing—she was changing, remembering, and at a rapid pace. She didn't know if that was good or bad. She decided she didn't care. Her curiosity would not leave it be, it was a hound that could not stop sniffing until the end of the scent trail was reached.
A dam had broken. Memories came trickling through Dexné's brain like never before. Voices from long ago cut up the stagnant silence. Shards of memory kept popping up, like gold sparkling from the bottom of a murky river.
She remembered going home that day, the day she sat with Lea and Isa at lunch. She stood in her house's hallway entrance, staring into space. The day had been strange, unexpected.
She remembered her house. It was old with outdated wallpaper and elegant wood trimming that wasn't seen much anymore. Shoes and coats cluttered one side of the hallway near the door. She could hear the ticking of the old grandfather clock. Further down the hall she could hear even more clocks. She walked; her slender, quiet feet still made the floor creak in that one spot near the powder room's door. A mouse could set that squeaky floorboard off.
Dexné faintly remembered hearing her mother's soft voice. "How was your day?"
"Fine." Dexné's typical response.
Dexné grasped onto that memory, trying to picture her mother's face. She could not. Oddly, she recalled the flat suede boots her mother usually wore, a long bright skirt, and long colorless hair usually tied in a braid.
Dexné ate the flat sandwich she didn't eat at lunch. She was taught early on never to waste—especially food. It disgusted her to see the other students dump trays full of untouched meals. In Dexné's eyes they might as well be tossing rubies and emeralds. They had no idea how precious food really was. She doubted the lot of them knew what it was like to go without.
Empty, gnawing hunger—
She grudgingly did about half her homework, then decided it wasn't worth it and moved on to reading. The old house had many bookshelves and Dexné had read just about everything they had to offer. She even read all the textbooks. But she mostly enjoyed fantasy, adventure, mystery, and, guiltily, even a few romance novels. The romance genre wasn't bad, so long as it was written correctly. She had a couple favorites, though she couldn't recall the titles. But she wouldn't be caught reading them in public.
She hardly went anywhere, or did anything besides reading or her mundane household chores. Though she remembered times when she walked the uncrowded roads, walked until she made it out to the woods. Then she'd sit there, watching, listening, breathing.
A voice deep inside told her she was waiting for something, but what it was she didn't know. Couldn't remember.
Waiting, wAitIng, waItiNg—
Her father arrived home in the evening. Dexné remembered button up shirts, heavy boots, and short, hastily combed salt and pepper hair. He didn't say much. But his presence was nice, steady. Comforting.
The next day Dexné sat at her usual spot, trying to squish down anticipation.
It was a fluke, she told herself. She probably weirded him out yesterday. She was so stiff and awkward. She predicted Lea would leave her alone now that he'd seen her display of social incompetence.
Lea proved her wrong.
Again and again.
He'd find her in the mornings. Sometimes she followed him to the library to "bother Isa," as Lea put it. She'd be lying if she said things weren't awkward—on her end at least.
She did not know how to get along, how to carry on a casual conversation. What was she to talk about, where was she to begin? She answered direct questions, but that was about it. Really she was afraid to say anything at all. What if she offended him? Knowing her luck, the first sentence she might utter would make him wary of her, make him take a step back. And so she tip-toed around Lea and Isa, walked on eggshells—careful, because any misstep could mean expulsion from…whatever this was.
Honestly, she believed she was just some weird tag-along.
There was a nagging thought that kept telling her he'd get tired of her eventually. Her presence was not significant—she was too timid to make it so. So she waited for him to grow bored, waited for his visits to occur less.
But Lea's presence continued strong.
He troubled her, confused her, knocked her from her safe zone—disrupted what was, disrupted the way things were. And she couldn't decide if she should be angry, upset…or happy and grateful. Because by bothering her he was saving her from something, she just couldn't remember exactly what.
The ShAdOws are safe—
"He bothers me," she told her mother once after school.
"Who?" asked her mother, who was clipping coupons at the kitchen table.
"Lea."
"Tell him to leave you alone, then."
"I…I don't think I want him to."
When Lea was around she was not confined to the wall. The shadows followed her, yes. They would never go away. A part of her really didn't want them to. Sometimes it seemed it was Lea's shadow she hid in.
Lea made a habit of sitting with her every day before the start of school. He usually talked, she listened. Lea talked of many things. He spoke of his family, school grades, after-school activities, things he liked and didn't like…
Dexné was not good at speaking, or sharing her thoughts in general. She was, however, very good at listening.
But Lea was not content to just let her sit and listen. It became apparent he wanted to talk with her, not talk at her.
"So, what do you do for fun, - - - -?"
She blinked, zoned in. "Hm?"
He gave her a crooked grin. "Were you listening?"
"Yes," she answered firmly, though not unkindly.
"Then tell me."
She racked her brain for something to talk about. "I…" It was not an easy task. "I read."
"Yeah? What do you read?"
"Books." He rose his brows and gave her a look. "Textbooks," she elaborated.
Lea stared, aghast. "Textbooks?! Man, oh man. - - - -… Don't worry, we'll find you a new hobby."
"Okay. Thank you. I like your hair." Why did she just say that? Was that a stupid thing to say? Sudden panic told her it was. "The color—it's nice." Then she wondered if she was being creepy, so she quickly threw in, "I like Isa's hair too," and immediately felt like an idiot for it.
Lea was smiling despite her fumbling. "You are really spazzy, you know that?"
That would be the first time anyone's informed her. "…I was not aware," she said.
Silence overtook. But this time it wasn't so awkward. It almost bordered on comfortable. Then a thought came to her. "…I don't think Isa approves of my presence at lunch. Are you sure it's all right for me to continue sitting with you?"
That seemed to catch Lea off guard. "What? What're you talking about? He's been warming up to you since day one."
"…He has?"
"Yeah. I mean, he did point you out to me. I didn't even know you were standing up there all by yourself." Then he smiled again. "Isa knows how I am. He wouldn't've done that if he didn't want you sitting with us."
This surprised Dexné. "Really?"
Lea looked at her. "Do you like sitting with us?"
"Yes," she replied quickly. "I just…" She trailed off. Lea was scrutinizing her, looking for something hidden in the black pools of her eyes. Dexné didn't dare move.
Finally he said, "You really care about what people think of you, huh?" He stated it more than questioned. "You should relax. Just be you."
She didn't know what to say. "Just be…"
"You." Lea pointed accusingly at her. "Just be you. Stop tip-toeing around me like I'm gonna bite your head off! I'm not, I promise." His tone walked a strange line between exasperation and playfulness.
Dexné didn't say anything, shocked that he noticed her evasive social exhibition. Not only that, he saw the reason why. That whoever she truly was would not be accepted, and so she hid herself rather than be rejected.
"Yes…as you say. I will cease the tip-toe."
Then, just like that, he laughed. "You are such a robot!"
She blinked. "…Does not compute?"
He lightly shoved her and laughed again.
She liked that sound. Really, really liked it. It made her stomach fluttery. And the fact that she had caused that laugh had made it all the better.
Her lips twitched, the corners tugging up. Her hand was quick to cover it.
"Hey, I saw that! Smi~le!" he sing-songed, trying to pull her hand from her mouth. She turned her face away, the smile widening. "Aw, c'mon don't hide it."
A bubbly feeling welled in her chest. As Lea gently shook her from side to side the feeling grew. Then it escaped.
Dexné remembered laughing.
A Dusk swirled into Dexné's peripheral, and instead of the memory stopping itself, Dexné had to pull away. There were very few Dusks sent to Castle Oblivion. Their job, like Nulla, was to work in the background, nothing more.
The Dusk informed Dexné of the Keyblade Hero's approach.
It had begun.
The castle had its own kind of ventilation system. It was unique. Snug passageways lined the top of each room; the sides facing the rooms had what was similar to arrow slits, though horizontal. Every passageway led outside, where breezes would enter and bring fresh air into the castle. It was something she could both hide in and see from. It wasn't roomy, but Dexné managed to crawl in from one of the hidden grates outside. She would have to be careful not to get lost, as there were as many passageways as there were rooms.
She could feel the drafts of outside air flow gently through the tunnels; feel the air as it whispered over her cloaked body. Quietly, steadily, she made her way to the first room. There she saw the Keyblade Hero, but, more importantly, she saw Number XI, Marluxia. Her orders had nothing to do with the brown haired boy with overly large shoes, but everything to do with possible traitors.
"The moment you set foot in this castle you forgot every spell and ability you ever knew. In this place, to find is to lose, and to lose is to find."
Dexné paid attention to Marluxia's words only. The Keybearer and his weird sidekicks were of no consequence to her. Marluxia continued talking, baiting the boy to go further into the castle. The boy started yelling about a…Ree-coo? Whatever. Didn't matter. What mattered to Dexné was what happened next.
Marluxia seemed to phase through the Keybearer. His attribute, the petals of a red flower, fluttered through the air. The smell of roses was supposed to be pleasant, yet for some reason, the scent nearly made Dexné recoil.
The smell of roses, the flower of love—the FlOwEr of lOvE—love, love, LoVe—
And then Marluxia held a card, and started speaking…of memories.
He didn't know Dexné was in the castle. The only one who knew was Axel. Yet she was troubled by Marluxia's talk of delving into the Keyblader's memories. If he could do that to the boy, could it be done to Dexné? She didn't like the idea of her memories being trifled with. She did not envy the Keyblade Hero—whatever envy felt like. She didn't know. She just knew the saying.
The Keyblader took Marluxia's bait and moved forward into the castle. Not very smart, thought Dexné, to be lured so easily. If Dexné were in his humongous shoes she wouldn't have bothered. She would have left and never looked back. What could be so important that he'd let his memories be messed with?
Dexné maneuvered through the tunnels. She was a rat in the dark. She didn't like the comparison but, rat or not, orders were orders. As long as she efficiently completed the mission, all was well.
She kept a close eye on Marluxia, for out of all the members assigned to Castle Oblivion, he resided at the top of Dexné's suspicion.
Marluxia was there to meet the Keyblader as he came through the threshold of the second floor. Words were exchanged.
"What do you have to give?" Number XI asked the Keyblade Hero, preparing to approach—possibly to "sample" another memory.
A Dark Corridor suddenly appeared, rising up from the floor and falling back down, unveiling a grinning Axel. "Boo."
Dexné's breath froze in her lungs. For a moment she imagined that fluttering feeling. It would arrive with the sight of him, grow as she heard his voice, grow more as she saw him smiling…
But then it dropped like a lead ball. That smile he was currently showing…was not the one she remembered.
It was dull, cold, sharp.
A fake, a lie.
She needed to remember he was a Nobody now. No heart. No real emotions.
Dexné hadn't noticed the significance of a heart—never thought of it—until that moment. She just did as the Superior commanded. If the Organization's ultimate goal was to gain hearts, and master them, then so be it. Dexné didn't do anything for the promise of a heart. She didn't want one. She didn't not want one. It simply didn't matter to her, one way or the other.
But perhaps it mattered to Axel.
"What do you want?" Marluxia intoned, black hood up and concealing his face.
"I got bored," Axel said, cold, fake grin still in place, "what with you hogging the hero."
Marluxia threw a card at the red-haired man. "Perhaps you'd like to test him, then."
"Perhaps I would."
Dexné wished that fake grin would go away. It wasn't like that before.
"My show now, Keyblade master! Oh, who am I? My name's Axel. Got it memorized?"
"Uh…sure." The boy did not look sure.
The fake smile was still in place. Even so, Dexné could sense the danger.
They were going to fight.
"But be forewarned... When your sleeping memories awaken, you may no longer be who you are now."
Dexné lay completely still, Axel's words echoing in her head.
He had that effect apparently.
Dexné had watched the fight attentively, because she never really saw The Flurry of Dancing Flames in battle before. He wielded his chakrams masterfully—the fire was dazzling—
—the fire, the fire, the hills are on fire, the mountain is on fire—
—but such complicated weapons seemed impractical to Dexné. Yet he pulled it off. Dexné observed the keyblade—also an impractical looking weapon. The difference between the two weapons, in Dexné's view, being that the giant key looked stupid.
Blunt force trauma versus being sliced and impaled on numerous blades...
He still had the habit of waving his hands around when talking, she observed. It was very distracting. Even so, she couldn't help but hold onto every word. Forgetting that you have forgotten. Losing sight of the light within the dark. The person of most importance...
Who is the person of most importance? She didn't care whoever the boy's was.
Who was yours...? Was it Isa? Was it someone in your family?
She wanted to know. She couldn't remember.
"When your sleeping memories awaken, you may no longer be who you are now."
His voice was a broken record in her head. She wished it would stop. She couldn't afford distractions on a mission of such importance. He hadn't been talking to her anyway, but to the Keyblade Hero—whatever his name was. She didn't consider it important enough to remember.
She needed to crack down on her objective. Reminiscence could not come first. No matter how interesting it was, or how hard her curiosity pulled at the reins.
She watched as the Keybearer and his sidekicks slowly lost memories. Yet the boy also seemed to be gaining some. Strange things were happening. Even objects, like cards and journal pages, were being changed or wiped clear. Rightly so, the duck sidekick was starting to get nervous, and so was the Keyblader. But then the dog…thing…spoke up.
"C'mon, Sora, when you turned into a Heartless, did you forget about me and Donald?"
"Of course I didn't!"
"There you go! No matter what happens, you won't forget your friends."
That was stupid, Dexné thought. Nothing was guaranteed, and to make such blind assumptions was dangerous. As for Dexné, she continuously checked her mind. She wondered if she ever made a futile promise to never forget. Well, she had forgotten, and her few rediscovered memories were still young. She moved about with extreme caution. So far, she hadn't been messed with. Still, it troubled her.
Something wasn't right.
Dexné sought answers by spying on the other members of the castle.
The girl Naminé was an enigma. Dexné's discomfort with her presence tripled.
She was forgetting something…
Dexné pulled out the mission brief and scanned the pages until she came to Naminé's name.
Well, it would've been wise to take special note of that earlier…
Through reading, Nulla pieced together what Naminé really was, and what she could do. Threat! Dexné's instincts initially shrieked. Destroy, destroy! But she was not permitted to destroy. Not Naminé, at least. She was a tool belonging to the Superior, just like Dexné. The difference: Naminé was a hammer, used to beat in or pull out memories. Dexné was a dog, used to track, used to hunt, and used to devour.
The dog was worth more than the hammer. That conclusion pleased Dexné a little more than it should have.
But then she second guessed it, and was troubled once more.
The rest of the mission whirled by in a mass of confusion and schemes. The other members in the castle could "trade shifts" so to speak, and recuperate. Dexné, working alone, could not. She didn't get much sleep, if any. She did not eat. She had some water on her, and that was it. Time wearied on—so did she.
She was fast, she was silent, but she could not be in two places at once. Dexné had trouble keeping track of all that was transpiring.
It all started out smoothly. Axel seemed to be handling everything. But nearer to the end…
Dexné had never stood so conflicted on the outcome of a mission.
Of all that had happened, there were a few noteworthy moments. Some significant to the mission itself, others significant only to Dexné. She had to be able to recall the former for the mission report, the latter for the splintered memories residing in her head.
One such moment occurred in the globe room:
Without warning Axel threw a card at Larxene like he was throwing a shuriken. If it had been Dexné, she would've dived out of the way and let the card fall where it may. As it was, Larxene caught it skillfully. It perplexed Dexné how the blonde Savage Nymph kissed it, then went over and trailed her fingers under Axel's chin. He blatantly ignored the action.
"Don't break him," he said quietly.
"Do I detect a soft spot?" Larxene almost sounded disdainful. "I'm not going to break the toy, Axel—just play with it. I'm not dumb."
"Then you won't mind the warning," Axel said, "Remember, Sora is the key. We need him if we're going to take over the Organization."
Larxene put a finger to his lips—why was she so hands-on? Was she always like that? Dexné scrutinized her: willowy figure, pretty complexion, shiny gold hair, electric green eyes. Dexné decided she didn't like her in that moment. "I know you're in on it too," the Nymph said with a smirk. "But keep it under your hood, at least until the time is right."
Then she was gone, swallowed up by a Dark Corridor.
Dexné did not miss the smug smirk that crossed Axel's face. "You would have been wise to have done the same, Larxene." Then his expression went blank like a proper Nobody, and he looked from one end of the room to the other. "…Did you hear that?"
Dexné appeared across from the crystal globe. When Axel saw her his eyes widened slightly. Something told her he didn't like it when she popped up out of nowhere like that.
"It is verified," she droned in her usual rasp.
"Good. I think it's obvious who the traitors are. I can handle everything from here. Report back."
"…Are you certain?"
"Positive. Go on. Tell Saïx what's happening and that it will be wrapped up soon."
Firstly, she was to report directly to the Superior, not Number VII. Second, she was not permitted to RTC—Return To Castle—until it was all over.
…But he couldn't know that. The details of her objectives were for her alone.
"As you say, I will report back. The traitors are Larxene and…"
"Marluxia, obviously."
"Numbers XI and XII. It will be relayed." She bowed lightly, then "left."
She took a Dark Corridor to The World That Never Was, the city-like world between the dark. She went to Saïx, just as Axel expected her to, relayed his information, and then told Number VII she was going to her chambers to write up a report.
Once in her room she immediately opened another Dark Corridor. She ended up at the backside of Castle Oblivion. She crawled back into the ventilation system. She used to do something similar to the teachers, she recalled. She made it appear she was doing as told, then turned on her heel when they weren't looking. It worked with all of them, excluding busybodies like the hall monitor.
Larxene fought the Keyblader, only to come back clearly defeated, and then mocked—by Axel. Regardless, Number XII had completed her objective. Sora wildly searched the castle for Naminé, who had contorted his memories into believing she was a beloved friend.
Another moment that stuck to Dexné happened while she was observing Naminé, who did little but sit in her chair and draw.
"Does it still hurt?" Lea's voice bounced off the walls of Dexné's head.
She saw Axel come out of a Dark Corridor, march right up to Naminé, and say something similar. "Does it hurt, Naminé? Watching your two childhood friends fight all because of you? You have my sympathies. From the heart."
Naminé glared. Dexné didn't know she was capable of expression.
"But don't waste your time," Number VIII continued. "We Nobodies can never hope to be Somebodies."
What was he trying to do? What was he trying to say? He looked…unhappy.
An image of Lea's face, drawn with worry, with sorrow, flashed before her mind's eye.
"- - - -, you're bleeding…"
She froze, waited.
Waited for pain, waited or the spreading warmth of fresh blood. Dexné blinked rapidly, clearing her head. That voice was not from the present. The gears in her mind were turning in an unwarranted direction, and she needed to slam the door before anything else could come through. But she couldn't help but wonder…
What happened back then to make him say that?
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Dexné had been all through the castle. She learned Vexen, Lexaeus, and Zexion were plotting to take down Marluxia using the Ree-coo…that she later learned was a silver-haired boy named Riku.
Replicas were strange beings, if the replica of the boy Riku was anything to go by. She had no clue how they were made, but Vexen, The Chilly Academic, seemed to have a thorough understanding of his creation. Perhaps his pride wasn't uncalled for after all. But Dexné didn't like it. When Naminé was made to force new memories into the replica, the being's scream was too real.
The entire thing was like watching a chess game, except Dexné wasn't sure who was on what side.
But as it went on, it became clear where each member stood. Marluxia was for himself, and Larxene stood with him.
Axel… Well, he acted as if he stood with XI. Meanwhile, Vexen, Lexaeus, and Zexion fought on behalf of the Superior, as they were using Riku's replica and possibly Riku himself to counter Sora, who was steadily coming under Naminé's—and by extension Marluxia's—control.
All was going well. It didn't look like Dexné would have to get involved after all.
And then Marluxia gave Axel the order to eliminate Vexen.
Vexen was the Organization's top scientist. He was needed.
"I'm a scientist," said the Chilly Academic earlier. "Experimentation is what I do."
Experimentation...
The screams of that replica he made were too real...
Dexné didn't think Axel would actually do it—there had to be some way around it. Number IV may be pompous and loose-tongued, but his experiments were important to the Organization.
When Dexné saw Vexen go up in flames she could hardly believe it. Was he supposed to do that? she kept foolishly thinking. Was he supposed to do that? Alarms were going off in every corner of her brain.
Vexen had begged—begged. Why was an emotionless Nobody begging? Axel had smiled and set him ablaze.
She numbly trailed Axel back to the crystal globe room.
"Taking over the Organization will be child's play with the three of us." Larxene was nearly giddy. Then she sobered, saying, "But what are we going to do about The Devouring Shadow?"
"Nulla will not be a problem," Marluxia said. "She is no more intelligent than a Dusk; she obeys the strongest. Once Xemnas is defeated she will obey me."
What? Did they really think that? Such a daring, dangerous assumption. They knew nothing about her. She obeyed Xemnas because—because—
Home. Food. New clothes. A name.
The Superior had given her so much.
A moment of silence passed between the three Nobodies standing around the crystal globe.
Then, "Nulla's a girl?"
Dexné had wondered if Axel remembered who she was, if he knew the face constantly hidden under the hood. He just proved otherwise.
Larxene snorted. "Of course. Her coat's not that baggy."
"I never looked hard enough to be able to tell," Number VIII replied.
"The term Nulla is feminine. If it were masculine it would be Nullus."
"Interesting," Axel said blandly, not appreciating Marluxia's knowledge. "Anyway…"
The subject returned to the Keyblade Hero and Naminé. The girl sat hunched in her chair, not speaking a word for herself.
Throughout the whole ordeal, Number VIII acted so nonchalantly, so carefree and, dare she say, friendly. But it was all a ruse. In time, Dexné came to understand that Axel killed Vexen to gain the trust of Larxene and Marluxia, so that he could freely move among them and discover their plans for overthrowing the Organization.
Although what he said when he confronted Marluxia...
"But you eliminated Vexen!" Marluxia said.
"Yeah, I did, come to think of it. So what? All I did was weed the garden. And I had to be sure you two trusted me."
"I see," Marluxia spat. "A double agent."
No, Dexné thought. That's not all there is to it. Something was wrong. She tried to explain it away, telling herself she was seeing things between the lines that weren't there.
But Zexion's death could not be explained.
Axel had acted so friendly with him too, not so long before his demise. They were making bets on who would fall next. Wasn't that cruel? whispered something in the back of her mind.
"I thought it would be you," Zexion was saying, no malice in his tone.
Axel smiled that cold faux-friendly smile. "Me? Naah. I already took my beating from Sora. He thinks I'm done for good." That smile had turned sharper, colder. "No, I think Marluxia will be next to go."
"You think Sora will win," Zexion observed, his cool eyes partially obscured by his silver hair. "Because anyone who beats you is unbeatable—is that it?"
"That's the idea. Marluxia plotted to use Sora to bring down the Organization...so it's fitting Sora should be his downfall."
"Then...we won't be needing Riku anymore."
Axel scoffed. "Good luck disposing of him. You want to take on someone who wasted Lexaeus?"
An infinitesimal smile appeared on Zexion. "That's not how I do things. Although...Nulla would be particularly useful right about now, wouldn't she?"
Dexné's breath had caught. Did he know she was here?
All pretenses of friendliness fell from Axel. "Nulla only obeys the Superior. You know that."
"I am only speculating how useful her ability would be in this situation."
"Well start speculating how many things can go wrong with that thing."
Dexné had frozen in the shadows. Thing? Her?
"But if you really want to involve it," Axel continued coldly, "I'm sure you'll find it at the Superior's heel."
Zexion shook his head and sighed. "Never mind. Tell me, did you get the data on Riku's home?"
Dexné couldn't get over how Axel had talked about her. But she had to keep going, she had to complete her mission.
Later, Dexné had observed in numb horror as Axel goaded the replica of Riku into absorbing the last of The Cloaked Schemer's power. Number VI had just recently been defeated by the real Riku, and could do nothing to defend himself—just as Vexen had been beaten by Sora, and could do nothing against the fire.
"So sorry, Zexion." The green of Axel's eyes seemed to glow eerily in the dark, shadowy room. "But you just found out way too much."
Found out what? What was going on? The gears of Dexné's mind went into overdrive. They produced many explanations, but one stood out: Axel and Saïx.
Just who were the real traitors in all this?
Though many of his actions were questionable, Axel did set the ball rolling for the proven traitors' downfall.
He had let Naminé go. He walked over to a white birdcage—in it was a small stuffed figure resembling Naminé. He tapped the bars. He nearly made Dexné jump when he laughed. It was the first she ever heard from the Nobody.
"The actors are all in place," he said. "Now, Sora. Naminé. Riku. Marluxia. Larxene. It's about time you gave me one hell of a show!"
The Keyblade Hero was the one to slay them. First Larxene. Then Marluxia. Lexaeus had fallen to Riku. Zexion and Vexen were felled by Axel's hand, directly or not.
In the end, Axel was the only one who was left.
Except that he wasn't.
Dexné remained.
And she had seen it all.
She paced about in her room. Never before had she had such confliction when writing a report.
No chance to rest; she rushed to finish a report for Saïx—containing only information Axel gave her—and hand it to him before Axel returned. But that was easy. What was giving her stress was the report she had to write for the Superior.
Axel's actions at Castle Oblivion bordered on traitorous—were traitorous if her guess that he and Saïx were in cahoots was correct.
Reports were usually easy for her. State what she saw, relay what was. That's all. But this time…
If she were to divulge the whole truth, it could very well end in Number VIII's execution. Number VII too. That was something…she did not want.
The shards of her memories had been nothing but a source of curiosity, a keen interest to know what had once been—who she was, who Axel and Saïx were…
Now the shards were cutting her.
She had never lied to the Superior, never dreamed of it. She didn't want to. Not now. Not ever.
Besides, who was to say her memories were even real? Seeing Naminé redo Sora's memory instilled a paranoia in Dexné.
And even if Naminé never touched Dexné's mind, what proof was there to show the mind had not fabricated everything all on its own?
…Would Axel know? If she were to pull down the hood, would he recognize her? What would his reaction be?
Suddenly a gunshot of realization struck her. A voice, deep down inside her, told her something: she had been a terrible, terrible friend. She didn't know why, she had no idea where the notion came from. But there it was.
Something must have gone wrong. Something she didn't yet remember. If by some chance Axel were to recognize her...
...what guarantee was there his reaction would be a pleasant one?
Then she recalled Vexen bursting into flames, remembered the sound of Zexion's futile pleas.
And instinct told her to stay far away from Axel.
Dexné clutched her head. How was she possibly supposed to process all these thoughts? Her brain was clogging, the gears stammering.
"Hey," said the echo of a far off memory, "stop acting like a robot."
She slammed her forehead into the wall. Stop, she willed. Stop—stop!
She could not withhold the information, would not. The Superior was counting on her.
"You carry matches with you?" Her voice. So young and inquisitive.
"Yeah, don't tell anyone." Lea's voice. Confident, playful even.
"...May I ask why?"
"'Cause I'll get in trouble."
"No, why you carry them."
"I dunno. I think they'll come in handy."
"Okay."
"Don't tell."
"…Even if you were to burn the school down, I wouldn't say anything."
"Geez, - - - -, I don't think I'd go THAT far!"
Dexné slid down the wall, looking out the large square window that showed nothing but a black, dreary sky.
For the first time since forever, distress marred her face.
…
A/N: Lots of editing. Dialogue from GBA COM and Re:COM was used interchangeably.
The reason many of you mistook Dexné for a Dusk in the first chapter was because I had actually considered making her one. But as I continued to plan, I realized a Dusk couldn't take the story as far as I wanted it to go—or in the same direction.
Be aware that Dexné will not always recall memories in chronological order. I try to hint via a sentence or two when it happened in correlation to other recollections, but I won't always do that. It won't be that important.
If this ever gets too confusing, let me know. And please let me know what you think in general.
Fun Fact: There really are horizontal slits at the top of the rooms in C.O. You can see them in cutscenes.
Fun Fact #2: Axel really does say "hell" in the Gameboy Advance version of COM. It's funny 'cause it's Disney.