Stranger Danger Part 2
Thank you to @winterstarqueen for helping with this story! Please check out her stories. They’re amazing!
Warnings: same as the last part
After telling Riku what happened to you, he couldn’t seem to fall asleep. He was too worried about what’s going on in your point of view. He sat in your room, holding your bunny stuffie that you named Mr. Carrots. Riku walked in and saw Sora sitting there.
“Sora. She’s gonna be okay,” he said.
“She doesn’t have Mr. Carrots with her. She can’t fall asleep without him or her favorite bedtime story,” Sora said. Riku sighed and walked over to him.
“I know she’ll be okay. She’s strong. Like you,” he said. Sora started crying and Riku brought him into a hug while gently shushing him.
“She’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. Meanwhile, you were not okay. You didn’t know where you were or how you could get back. You sat in an alleyway, softly crying about your current situation.
“Please help me, daddy. I’m scared,” you whispered.
Sora looked around and saw that he was in Quadratum. How the hell did he get here? As he was walking around, he spotted you in a park playing in the puddles.
This is what you’re doing:
(look at my sweet little angel!)
He tried taking a step forward but stopped when he looked at your face. You wore a mask that had parts of the Foretellers on it and had blood dripping from the eye sockets. You ran away and he followed you. He tried reaching you but he couldn’t. He saw that you were getting farther and farther away and into Luxu’s arms.
“Sorry, Sora. She’s mine now,” he said.
Sora shot up, gasping for air. Riku quickly woke up and checked on Sora. He held him close and helped him calm his breathing.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I-I saw her. But she’s in danger. Xigbar did something to her,” Sora said. Riku looked at Sora in shock and held him closer.
“Don’t worry. We’ll save her. I promise,” he whispered.
Kingdom of Lies
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Characters: Larxene, Naminé
Tap. Tap. Tap. The sharp blade of Larxene’s knife tapped against the pristine white table. Its razor-shop point scoured into the soft wood, sending little chunks and splinters skittering across the otherwise clean surface. She leaned her cheek in her other hand as she repeatedly stabbed the table, her eyebrows narrowed frustratedly. She carved her frustration out in that white table, seated in a white chair in the middle of a white room with white curtains still around a white window. White, white, white; it was so maddeningly boring, being trapped in this castle of ivory waiting for that pipsqueak to lose his memories and fall right into her and Marluxia’s carefully woven net.
“Ugh, this sucks!” she snapped, suddenly jerking upright to chuck her knife at the wall. The blade buried itself an inch deep in the white paint, electricity sparking around the hilt as her ire mounted. Larxene hated boredom, but she met it too often within the halls of Castle Oblivion. She wished she could just pound that little boy into a pulp and be done with it, but Marluxia insisted that they use the witch’s powers to replace all his memories and make him compliant. Compliance made everything easier, the pink-haired man would smirk at her while batting his pretty lashes. That smirk and that flutter always did her in, damn it.
Morosely, Larxene rose from the table to saunter over to her knife, yanking it out of the wall with an irritated huff. She turned it over and over in her fingers, which had long since grown accustomed to the sleek handle and the electricity skipping over the metal. She supposed she could play target practice with the empty white picture frame on the wall (seriously, who decorated this place? An empty painting?), but her expression soured just at the thought of it. No, she craved violence, or at least the look of dismay on a cute little face…
Hmmm… It has been a while since I paid our little witch a visit, she thought devilishly, pressing the tip of her knife to her glossed lips as they curled into a sinister smirk. They wouldn’t want their little tool to get too big for her britches as her knight in shining armor ascended the castle, after all. Chuckling darkly, she tapped the knife against her mouth a few times. The kiss of metal against the tip of her tongue was familiar and satisfying, but not nearly as satisfying as Naminé’s would be… Grinning, she flounced out of the room, the hem of her coat swishing around her legs as she eagerly made her way to the memory witch’s quarters.
The young girl gasped as Larxene barged in, flinching against the back of her chair. Her blue eyes were wide with fright and anxiety as Larxene waltzed across the room, making a show of twirling her knife around her fingers.
“Well, hello there, sweet Naminé,” she crooned, grabbing the girl’s pale cheek and pinching it hard. The girl didn’t let out a single peep as Larxene harshly wiggled the skin back and forth, giving it a slap when she let go. Naminé stared down at her sketch paper with watery blue eyes, the skin of her cheek a blistering red from the older woman’s harsh treatment. “Why the long face?” she tutted, walking around the back of the chair and tapping the knife against her lips in faux confusion. “Your knight Sora is fighting oh-so-hard to rescue you; shouldn’t you be overjoyed?”
“His care for me is borne of lies,” Naminé said quietly. Her fingers tightened around the edges of her sketchbook, crinkling the page on which she’d been drawing. A half-finished rendition of an island beach decorated the white page— the only color in this dismal castle of whiteness. Larxene was jealous that Naminé could bring forth that color, while the rest of them had to persist in this blinding white void. “How could I be overjoyed when I know that he is marching towards a trap?”
“A trap that you built,” Larxene reminded with a waggle of her finger. Of course, that was another lie in this kingdom of lies, but saddling the young girl with guilt sure kept her compliant, as Marluxia liked to tout. Plus, Larxene just loved the way Naminé’s face scrunched up in misery and tears beaded on her platinum-blond lashes. “Aw, don’t cry,” Larxene cooed, leaning down to grab her by the shoulders. She dug her nails into her porcelain skin, making her flinch as crescent-moon indents formed underneath the woman’s claw-like nails. “Sora’s such a nice little boy; I’m sure you could tell just the perfect lies to make him forgive you,” she grinned maliciously.
Naminé sniffed petulantly and hung her head. Larxene couldn’t see the tears roll down her cheeks from her vantage point, unfortunately, but she could see the glittering droplets drip down onto the sketchbook. They bled into the absorbent paper, making the pencil wax run and melt together into confusing swirls.
Larxene bit down on her tongue, trying to suppress the absolute glee bubbling up inside of her. Oh, this was so much better than chucking knives at an empty canvas! Naminé cried quietly as Larxene massaged her shoulders in false compassion, scratching her nails into the girl’s soft skin.
“That’s what you do best, isn’t it?” Larxene pressed. She pulled the girl’s short blond hair back so she could speak venom into her ear. “Craft lies for your own gain… If this is a kingdom of lies, you are the queen of it, my dear, sitting on your throne creating falsehood after falsehood… First that pathetic Replica, and now sweet little Sora, painting his heart of gold black little by little. You really are a witch.”
“Stop,” Naminé begged, covering her face with her hands. “Please, stop.”
“What? You don’t like to hear the truth?” Larxene tsked as she straightened up. She lightly smacked Naminé upside the head as punishment for snapping at her; she couldn’t let such disobedience go unchecked, after all. “You lie to yourself most of all, pretending that you don’t carry any of the blame. If you had a spine, you wouldn’t let us make you do these things.”
The girl was silent for a moment, aside from her sniffles. After mostly composing herself, she picked up her colored pencils and resumed sketching the island scene. Larxene pursed her lips, irritated by her silence. It seemed she’d pushed too many buttons and forced the girl into silence, which was no fun.
“You’re right,” Naminé murmured, eyes blank as she continued to sweep the pencil across the page to fill the ocean in with blue. “I’m scared…” She trailed off, just silently coloring. Larxene clicked her tongue; she’d draw no more entertainment from the girl today, and Marluxia would scold her if she made Naminé too upset. Larxene gave the girl’s cheek one last harsh pinch before striding out, slamming the door behind her. The boom echoed in the empty white halls, reverberated through the castle of lies they’d crafted to lure in the Keyblade.
Naminé, Marluxia, Larxene… Each of them played an integral role in maintaining this kingdom of lies, each of them weaving their web from their respective throne. They lurked like spiders in the silk, watching with bright eyes as their little fly obliviously became more and more ensnared within the sticky fibers. Soon he’d be wound up tight, struggling to get free, and they’d pounce to suck every ounce of power from him they could for their grand lie, their secret mutiny to usurp Xemnas. Lies upon lies upon lies formed the fabric of this castle, so much so that Larxene couldn’t keep track of who told them, who believed them.
This was the place where truth came to die. Who needed truth when you had no heart, anyway?
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