Hello, this is my first Fan fic. It is mostly OCs, but I hope you like it. It came from a dream that I had once. Don't be too eager to judge my character by his name. Though it is obvious where it came from, it will be explained.

I do not own Kingdom Hearts or anything else for that matter, but I do own my OCs.

Please note that I did not play the whole first game, or the second game at all. I just did some research to get my feet wet. I realize that some of the references will be not true to the game. Don't flame me for it. I tried my best and also did what I thought made sense.

Read and enjoy. :)

A thousand years after the legacy of Kingdom Hearts. After the fall of the Organization XIII and the restoration of the Light. After the last of the Heartless had faded away and the last of the Nobodies had reclaimed their souls. After the darkness was sealed away forever. All was good.

Until it was due to happen all over again.

Memories. That is all they ever talked about. Memories, hearts, light and darkness. That is all they ever said. Open your heart to the light and you will keep your most precious memories. Thus was the way of the Kingdom of Krystahl's annual Kingdom Hearts Festival. Keep your friends close, your memories closer, and you shall find the key to never-ending happiness.

The Kingdom of Krystahl was a wonderful place, crafted from the finest marble and the clearest crystal. Pillars of lighted gemstones and decorated with the brightest stars. The people were rather somber for a place so beautiful, for the festivities came to an unexpected halt. The theater that displayed the most valiant of the fabled Keyblade Master Sora's adventures was interrupted by a lanky boy of only fifteen years.

His hair was the standout of his persona. A burning scarlet, slicked back into a wild mane. Blonde hair layered on top. He had piercing green eyes that held distaste for the townspeople and their banter. He was growling in disgust at a costumed Shadow Heartless that danced about playfully. He grabbed the costumed man and punched him squarely in the face.

"Why do you mock him?" The boy screamed at the crowd. "Why do you praise him so? He wasn't real!"

The crowd booed him. "Go away, scum. You do not believe. You are not a part of us."

The boy spat back. "You liars! All of you. How do you know this even existed? These Heartless and Nobodies. They weren't real. Darkness and Light. These are fairy tales. Children's stories used to lead you into a false sense of security. There is no such thing as a hero. Sora was a crock!"

The crowd booed louder. "Go away. Why do you even exist if you do not believe? We are all a part of Sora. He is pure. He is great. He is the essence of light itself. He is—"

"Sora is dead!" The boy snapped. "If there was such thing as a Keyblade Master, he died long ago. If there were really Heartless, why are they not present? Why are they not attacking us now? Why is everything fine? If there really was darkness at every turn like in these stupid stories, why are we safe?"

The crowd quieted. A single woman broke from blocks of people and grabbed the boy's hand tenderly. "Let's go Roxel. It's time to leave."

The boy, Roxel, followed the woman reluctantly. "I'm sorry, Mother."

The woman didn't smile. Her face was stern. "We need to talk."

The woman pushed a clear crystal door open and pulled Roxel in quickly. "Sit down." She commanded.

Roxel sat and watched his mother as she moved about the spotless room. It wasn't clear if the room was supposed to be a living room, or some kind of den, but it was magnificent. Small markings were etched into the crystalline walls, depicting great battles and beautiful creatures. The mural was always awe-inspiring to Roxel, though he knew who the people were, and what that great battle was supposed to be.

Roxel's mother returned and sat across from him. She held a tattered book in her hands. She looked forlorn, like she had had this conversation many times before. Every year in fact. Every year at the start of the Kingdom Hearts festival.

"Roxel, do you know where your name came from?" she asked softly.

Roxel rolled his eyes and launched into an explanation that was emotionless and monotone. "When I was born, I had both blonde and red hair. You said that I cried with a certain sarcasm that reminded you of stories your mother told you. You said I was destined to be great and that I was due to have a hard life, grappling with the thoughts of other invading my mind and consuming my soul. You said I was a mixture of Axel and Roxas from your childhood stories. A proverbial Roxel. And you named me such."

Roxel's mother sighed. "True. You were named after the characters in my stories, but they are real. More real than you could possibly imagine."

Roxel stood abruptly, "These are just stories, Mother. Nothing more. How can they be? As far as the world is concerned, Heartless feed on darkness. And I have a lot of darkness."

Roxel's mother gasped. "That is just not true. You are special. You could be a direct descendent."

"If I were a direct descendent, life would be pointless." Roxel scoffed. "You believe these fairy tales with every fiber of your being. It makes me sick. And it makes you look like nothing more than an ignorant child."

Roxel's mother sucked in the breath of a true believer. It had that air of disturbing hatred for Roxal that turned the very atmosphere to ice. She seemed almost hostile in appearance.

"Tell me." Roxel said. "Tell me why you believe these stories."

"Because they are true."

Roxel whipped around angrily. "They are not true. They are lies. Stories. Children's tales. They build up dreams and break them down. People around here are zombies. Believing in something so ludicrous."

"You are just spiteful!" Roxel's mother screamed. "You are an ungrateful existence, and you deserve to have your heart eaten."

"And you just named me Roxel because you wanted so desperately for Axel or Roxas to sweep you off your feet." Roxel retorted. "You wanted them to be real so they would save you from your pitiful existence. Just face the facts. You wanted them to be real so you could live a fantasy life."

Roxel's mother sobbed. She hated so much that Roxel spoke half-truths. She hated that she had such an unworthy child in a world were Heartless did not exist. She began to question her own faults. Where had she gone wrong? Had she gone wrong?

Roxel watched his mother's silent suffering. She soon ran out of the room, sobbing a little louder. She had left the old tattered book on the table. Roxel looked at it, but shrugged away from it. He knew exactly what it was.

It was a book of Children's Tales.

He had read that book so many times before, it sickened him. He knew every story. Every detail was carved into his brain. And he had once loved those stories.

The tales of Sora defeating the Heartless, and saving the many worlds from darkness. The tales of friendship and secret loves that were tested. The tales of the Organization XIII being brought to its knees. And the constant reminder that if you believe in the light in your heart, you would always prevail.

But, they were lies.

Roxel had searched for Heartless to destroy. But he never found any. He looked for the Nobodies slinking in corners, but he never saw them. They were nowhere and nothing.

Roxel began to resent those stories. And he had a renewed hope that his resentment would create a Heartless, but still nothing. There were no Heartless. No Nobodies. No evil. No darkness.


So the stories must have been lies. There was no way that the whole world was good. There were too many problems. Too many bad things being done. Too many inconsistencies.

Roxel shook his head. He was dwelling too long in his memories. It had recently become a newly developed habit. He was working on crushing it, for it was a needless distraction.

He flipped the pages of the tattered book lazily and slammed it shut. He picked it up and put it on a bookshelf. He figured that he needed to apologize to his mother. He had hurt her. He needed to make amends and take her back to the Kingdom Hearts Festival.

There was no real reason to destroy her livelihood. There was no need to crush her dreams. He would allow her to pray for her saviors to come, knowing that they never would.

He left his house soon after, pulling lightly on his mother's arm. He led her to the Festival, bringing a light back to her eyes. He smiled. Though it was small, his face lit up. He would just let her be happy. Just this once.

But he hadn't seen a thin letter fall from the pages of the tattered book. A thin letter with a Mickey Mouse head stamped on it.

There you go! My first chapter. I hope you liked it. Kind of standard, but I have to introduce my characters. My chapters will get longer. Let me know what you think.

Reviews are welcome. I like constructive critisism, too.