Author's Note: Okay this is my second story, although I didn't plan on it. It's probably full of errors and crap like that, but at the moment I don't care. At some point in the future I'll probably post a revised version.
This was written because I just lost my kitty, who I had for thirteen years, and all day I've just wanted someone to hold me.
Also a big warm thank you to all the reviewers of Chocolate Oblivion. You guys are awesome.
Disclaimer: I do not own King Hearts in any way, shape, or form.
It's midnight in the Castle that Never Was.
She knows she shouldn't be out. If she gets caught he'll show her another little piece of hell, or worse, let the other one do it. It's getting harder to care about that sort of thing. And she knows that isn't good. Getting used to the abuse. But it's not as if anyone is going to rescue her.
After all who rescues the wicked witch?
But the cage galls her and sometimes she just has to get out, no matter what the consequence. She has no clue where she is going, just wandering the halls. And then she hears it.
Soft strains of music.
She follows the sound, not knowing what she'll find. The one thing that comforts her is that it's hard for the others to see her in the bright halls.
The music leads her into a part of the castle she's never seen before. There is a room with a door ajar. Ever so quietly, peers inside.
It is a conservatory, a fairly large one. There are instruments everywhere, all on stands or in glass cases. In one corner stands a large harp. There are shelves of what she presumes is binders full of sheet music. The light is dim and shimmers off of well polished, wood and brass. The colors in the room are shades of blue, green, and gray. Large windows are open to warm night, and she can see the stars. The sweet scent of night blooming jasmine drifts through the room.
But the room is dominated by the piano. There is another Nobody playing it. She's seen him before, but never up close. He's one of the neophytes, but unlike the ones she's familiar with, he isn't defiant of his superiors. For a Nobody he seems oddly content. She knows he has an easy-come-easy-go attitude and almost careless approach to life, no ambition. And she knows that burns her jailer cruelly that such a person is his superior.
He challenged him for rank once. All she knows of the outcome is that her self-appointed custodian remained Number XII. Apparently there had been more to the Melodious Nocturne, than Marluxia had counted upon.
His eyes are closed. He seems swept away in the soft, bittersweet melody he is playing. She knows she should leave before he spots her. Undoubtedly, he will make her return to her stark white room. Instead she finds herself creeping inside, wanting to be closer, wanting to hear more.
The music flows around her like water, calming and soothing her bruised soul. She wants to believe he isn't like the others. Most ignore her or perhaps they are simply unaware of her. The ones who did notice her, made her wish that they didn't, and Number VIII always distracted the one she wanted to notice her.
The song came to an end, and she held her breath, praying he'd just start playing another song.
"No ovation? Was it that bad?" he turns toward her grinning. The grin freezes and he blinks. He had not been expecting her. But it seems to be mere surprise and his smile warms again.
"Hey this is great! I didn't know I could play siren song." She huddles close to the wall, even though she knows it's useless. She shines like a beacon in the dim room.
His smile droops. "Hey now, don't be like that." He beckons to her and pats the bench his sitting on. "Come on, have a seat. I won't tell anyone you're here." He winks at her. "Promise."
Nervously, she comes over and sits down next to him. He continues playing. This song is a bit livelier, and makes her think of nightingale song.
"Do you play at all?" he asks. She shakes her head. "Really? That's too bad. You look like the creative type."
"I like to draw," she says timidly. He smiles.
"What do you like to draw?"
"Can I see you drawings sometime."
"I guess so."
"So why are you in the Organization?"
"I guess cause I woke up in Twilight Town one day."
"Just like the rest of us then."
"Um, no. Marluxia says I'm not."
"What does he say?"
"He says I'm a witch."
"Are you a good witch or a bad witch?"
Startled she turns and looks at him. He's still smiling. Not just with his mouth the way Marluxia does, but the with his whole expression. There is no cruelty or harshness in his eyes. His whole demeanor is one of gentleness.
"I hope I'm a good witch," she says at last. He grins. She swallows hard. She is beginning to feel safe. Something she can't really remember feeling ever. She scoots closer to his warmth, the night air too cool for her liking.
"You're out a bit late. Aren't you tired?" he asks.
"I just…I just had to get out there for a while. Besides, you're up too."
"I like staying up late," he paused. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"
"I guess not."
"Why is Marluxia always on your case? I mean, did Xemnas make him your guardian?"
She gave an involuntary shudder. He frowned. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
"No he's not responsible for me or anything like that. It's just," she whispered, "He says he has to do what he says, and since I have no rank, I can't do anything about it."
"You can tell me," he said sharply. "If you don't like what he's doing you can come to me."
She stared at him. His face had gotten harsh. When he saw her shock, he said, "I don't like to see people taken advantage of. I've put him in his place before and I can do it again."
"Why would you do that for me?" He shrugged, grinning goofily again.
"Us artistic types gotta stick together." And then in softer tone, "I'd like to protect you, if you'll let me."
"Old habit I guess. I remember having a sister about your age…" he trailed off.
She looked at him. He was staring intensely at the keyboard, as though he were embarrassed to have admitted something so personal.
"I wish I could remember," she sighed, "Especially if I had an older brother like you." She scooted closer and rested her head against his shoulder. The song he was playing shifted into something like a lullaby. It would be nice to have someone to go to, to keep her company, like the way Roxas had Axel, someone to protect her.
"Will you be my big brother Demyx?" she asked. He stopped playing and wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his coat. He smelled like summer rain, warm and clean.
"For as long as you need me to be Naminé."