Once upon a time, when the fair folk held great power over the world, there lived a boy cursed by time and fate to roam the seas for eternity in search of something utterly precious. In this perpetual voyage he unwittingly spawns the friendships of countless children, pulling them into his crew of misfits, and spitting them back out patch-worked and hardened. From the girl with yards of sunlight stained hair, to the fae branded brothers, the mermaid and her fast running hourglass, the princess marked with blood, and not to forget the wise and powerful young woman who wore slippers of glass. Despite being the string of fate that dragged them together, the boy could never participate in such a vile act like friendship. He had to succeed in his task of reducing faeries to nothing but a tale.
Hi, guys, this story is very much just Kingdom Hearts characters being fitted into the roles of classic fairytale characters. But I like to put my own spin on things, so they won't be very much like their source materials unless I really want to stick with it. Also, I apologize for the summaries being so different. They're both accurate, but they tell two different point of views. I'll be writing multiple characters.
Oh! And note that the entire point of this chapter is for you, as the reader, to have fun and try to GUESS what Kingdom Hearts character I'm writing about! The main ones are all here. Just look.
The boy's cerulean eyes flickered fast over the names of the books stacked in piles in the corner of the old rickety library. He lifted a hand, gently running his finger over each and every thick, aged leather spine. He chewed on his bottom lip, the creases of the words carved into the leather spines like Braille to a blind man to the boy who was not really paying attention to the covers at all. He looked captivated by the feel of the old books, his eyes twinkling with something unknown.
"Boy, are you done with those yet?" came a low voice from behind him. The boy blinked himself out of his daze and jumped to his feet.
"Ah," he coughed, snatching up the pile of books. "My apologies, sir. Got distracted, ya see…"
"Never mind that!" The old librarian waved the boy off, taking them into his arms and cradling them slowly. "Lord knows you have the memory of a beetle, lad." The man shook his head, setting down the large pile as he went. His hands ran across the spine of each book, much like the boy's had, and he pursed his lips. The boy watched, his blue eyes wide with great interest.
"Sir, I already checked 'em all," the boy said, nodding at the pile. "All together, not a rip nor tear. All there, too."
The old man's eyebrows raised. "Did you now?" he asked, his voice rumbling in his throat as he chuckled. "Well, then, dear boy, why in the gods' names are you still here?"
The boy blinked slowly, his eyes widening up at the man. He opened his mouth, his eyes shifting from side to side. "Uh…" he said, his voice slipping from its slur for a moment. "I… don't really wanna go home, sir, ya know? My folks aren't exactly fond of me."
The old man smiled, and sighed, almost dreamily. "Ah, yes," he said in a soft, airy voice, as if he was reminiscing. "My own mother and father were not quite ecstatic about my own profession choice. Books were garbage in their eyes."
The boy frowned, as he wandered over to a stack of newly checked in books, and he hefted it up. "My ma doesn't have a clue about my current profession, sir," said the boy with a long sigh. "I'd prefer it to be kept a secret, if ya know what I mean?"
"Oh, of course, boy!" The old man smiled from behind his desk. "I wouldn't dream of doing anything to get rid of you. You are quite possibly the best apprentice I've had in many, many years."
The boy stared at the old man, feeling his heart warm with a sense of accomplishment and pride, his eyes brightening as he smiled gently. "Thank you… so, so much, sir," he said, his voice soft. He turned slowly and walked slowly to the back room, the books weighing heavily in his arms as he moved toward the storage area, where all the new check ins went. He took a deep breath as he set down the books on one of the many desks in the back room. He blinked as he scanned the room, books stacked like skyscrapers leaning against each other for support. The boy sighed, his eyes drooping as he adjusted his hat. He was grateful for the work he was given in the library, of course, but he was thinking about all the work he had to do when he went home…
He yelped as he felt himself being hefted onto someone's shoulders and carried easily from the small, windowless room. He cried out, slamming his hands on top of his head to keep his hat from falling, and muttering profanities as he kicked and struggled, trying desperately to get himself free.
"Oi!" the boy shouted as he turned his head, his eyes darting around for something to grab to smack his captor with. He only saw books, however, and the boy could not bring himself to damage any of the old, dusty tomes he'd come to love. "Let me go!" The boy looked up, peering from under the top of his hat. "Sir!" he gasped, catching sight of the old man chuckling to himself.
"Oh, put the poor boy down," the old man said, shaking his head.
The boy's captor turned toward the old man, and the boy yelped again, clutching his hat for dear life. "Aw," the man holding the boy whined. "Really? It's so much funnier to watch him squirm, though!"
The old man shook his head, a small, silly smile on his face as he gathered the books together and headed for one of the many tall, wooden book shelves lining the walls. "Let the lad go," he said, his eyes glancing sharply at the man holding the boy. The man sighed in exasperation and dropped the boy to the floor with a loud, painful sounding thunk, that rocked the entire library. The boy swore loudly, clutching his head as he glared up at the man.
"You asshole," he hissed, pushing himself to his elbows. "You can't go a day without tormenting me, can you?"
"Hmm…" the man said, tapping his lips, which were the only thing visible under is steel helmet. "No, I cannot." The man grinned down at the boy, offering his hand out to him. The boy glanced at it before rolling his eyes and bringing himself slowly to his feet, rubbing his head as he went. He then brushed past the man, waving back at the old librarian.
"Sorry, Eraqus!" he called back. "I have to go now, but I'll be back tomorrow!"
"It is not a problem," the old man said, glancing up as the man in the helmet walked after the boy. "Tomorrow, I expect, then, boy."
"Tomorrow!" The boy grinned back. He was promptly pulled away by his older friend and dragged out the door.
"What do you think?" asked the young boy, his eyes roving around bustling street below him as he peered through the branches of a large tree. His heart sped with anticipation, wondering if he'd give anyone a good fright this time. No one ever expected him, which was the best, because who could expect someone so strange and unnatural as him? He was the one they told stories about, the legend that they whispered to their children, like an old fable for them to gnaw at. But he was not a fable, nor were his incredible talents. He was perfectly real in every sense, and he intended for that to stay that way.
"I dunno," the other boy said, yawning and rustling his spiky brown hair. "I'm not even supposed to be here. If I'm caught, I could get a public execution. Probably by guillotine." The boy shuddered and slumped against the mighty trunk of the tree as his friend peered down at the townsfolk moving about below.
The other boy's eyes snapped up toward the brunet, a grin splitting his face. "But that's it, isn't it?" he gasped, jumping to his feet. The brunet reached up and grabbed the branch above him as the one he was sitting on began to tremble "The pure thrill of it is what keeps ya motivated, right? Don't tell me you'd have come if it were your town." The boy shook his head, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he reached up and grasped the branch above them. "The adventure, the danger! That's why you're here, and that's why I'm here."
"Well," said the brunet, sitting up straighter. "Yeah. I love adventure, you know that. But I'm more responsible than you. I can't afford to get myself slaughtered. And I'm not as brave as you are."
"That's silly!" The boy blinked down at the brunet. "You're one of the bravest men I know."
"I suppose you have not met many brave men, then," the brunet said with a short laugh. The other boy stared at him, his eyebrows furrowing.
"No," he said softly. "I guess not."
A girl stood at the end of a long table, her fingers pressed against the smooth wood, and her eyes wide with awe as she watch the woman before her eat a small bite of some sort of exotic bird. She swallowed, feeling the curious eyes of the woman's handmaids on her face, and she grew pink as she gripped the edge of the table tighter. She had no idea what to say, and the woman was not cooperating with her! What was the girl to do, anyway? Talk? She understood that was the worst idea imaginable, and she could not even begin to imagine the punishment she'd receive in return.
So she stood, her feet aching a little, and her fingers drumming softly against the wood as she watched in silence. There was nothing she could do.
When the woman did speak, the girl jumped back, her eyes darting around the room as the sound hit her ears. "Has your brother returned?" the woman asked, padding the corners of her mouth with a charcoal colored napkin.
The girl breathed out quietly, and she shook her head. "No, ma'am," she said, her rosy lips drawing back into a kind smile. "I'm positive he'll be back in an hour or so, however. Um, was that why you called for me, or can I just—"
"You may leave when I excuse you," the woman said sharply, her eyes flashing upward to meet the girl's, who stared for a moment, her mouth dropping.
"Yes," the girl agreed quietly, her head bowing a bit in shame. "I am so sorry."
"As you should be," the woman hissed, her head high, and her mouth tight. The girl felt her stomach clench, fear building up inside her fast.
"May I," the girl said in a low voice, leaning over the table a bit. "May I ask as to why I am here, then, stepmother?"
The woman smiled, and the girl felt her blood freeze in her veins. Oh, this was not good at all.
"Wouldn't you fancy it if someone decided to relieve you of your duty?" asked another young boy as he leaned against the starboard rail, his head titled back. The sky was rich with the colors of morning, the yellow and purple meshing together in a soft sort of tango of color, swirling against each other until the line between them was obscured. It was a vivid morning, and the scent of the ocean set their noses ablaze, and the salt wakened their sleeping minds as they tried to keep themselves standing upright.
"That is a stupid question if I've ever heard a stupid question," said his tall, slender friend as he sauntered forward, and yes, he sauntered, one foot in front of the other, his hips managing to swing from side to side as if he were a fancy lady trying to impress a fella. "Man, if I was relieved of duty, I'd probably either find the nearest brothel, or hang myself."
"That's rather drastic," chuckled the younger boy as he turned, leaned his elbows on the wooden rail. His friend shrugged and stretched, moving his neck from side to side.
"Well, kid, what would you do?" the man asked, shooting the boy a toothy grin.
"Ah," the boy wrinkled his nose and stared at the calm sea below them, watching it sparkle a bright yellow in the rays of the early sun. "I honestly don't know. I've lived my whole life on this ship. What's it like outside, anyway?"
"Better than it is on this piece of shit," the man grumbled, "that's for sure."
"But I feel like there's something out there, ya know?" asked the boy as he looked up, his tired blue eyes meeting the horizon. "A place for me. I don't really think belong here anymore."
The boy's friend watched him carefully, his green eyes widening slightly as he continued to stare, and digest his words.
"You never really did to begin with," said the man thoughtfully.
A girl moved slowly, her arms outstretched, her hair floating in rich, deep crimson strands around her had as she lowered herself into the depths of a cavern, like a shallow gorge. She blinked, her eyes adjusting easily to the heavy darkness that fell upon her. She was used to this dimness, however, and she could see easily after staying still for a moment. Her lips pressed together firmly as she looked around, her fingers lacing around slimy green weeds, her heart speeding as she spotted a glinted light gleaming at the bottom of the cavern, the light's radiance calling to her heart.
She grinned and dove down, her long, blood colored hair sweeping behind her. She was excited, her mind racing with thoughts of skies and wings, her heart beating in time with claps of thunder, and her eyes searching for something more, something to grasp that wasn't made out of coral, or shells. Something else. Anything else. The world above her was so vast, but it was so cruel, because she could not dream to dwell on the land. Else she'd shrivel and die, leaving not a trace of existence but a shell to sing her ocean's song.
The girl scooped up the item from the sandy cavern floor, dusting off the muck plastered to it. She squealed with joy as the sand brushed off easily, and the item was clear to shine like a little star in her hands. It was something. Something circular, like a shell, but it had none of the gentle ridges that kept the other shells perfect. This object was dented, and a bright, metallic silver. It was smooth in her palm, the size of a moderate, but still small shell.
The girl gritted her teeth as she tried to pry the small silver thing open, spotting a crevice in the design. She had no luck, however, and she was getting rather agitated. What wonders laid behind the shiny surface? Certainly there was so much more than the simple exterior, something grand that would make her heart flutter and beat, the waves around her flashing in order to match her erratic heart.
"What'cha doing down here?"
The girl spun around, her dark read hair spinning around her head, slowing to a gentle stop and hovering above her head as she gaped at the boy who had appeared in the cavern. He looked older, not very well built, and sort of lanky with no real unique physical characteristics. He looked awful dull to the girl.
"Well that's none of your business," the girl said stiffly, straightening as she moved past him quickly.
"What!" cried the boy, spinning around and catching her arm. "Liar! I know you were doing something. No girl would go down here without a real good reason."
"Ha!" the girl laughed, throwing her head back. "Whatever. You're just mad because I didn't invite you."
The boy pouted. "It's so unfair how you leave me out of things…"
The girl tugged her arm from his grasp. "Well if you weren't such a blabbermouth, maybe I'd tell you stuff!"
The boy blinked as she moved quickly away, and he yelped loudly. "I am not!" he cried bolting after her. He was next to her in a second. "It's just your father. He's so scary!"
"No he's not." The girl rolled her eyes and shook her head. "He's all ham. He wouldn't actually hurt you."
"Yes he would!" the boy flailed and pouted. "Look at me face. Look. Right here." The boy stuck his finger against his temple. There was a long, faint scar that ran down to his cheek bone. "This is from when I covered for you three years ago, remember? You were off gallivanting with the faerie lover, and I had to explain why you weren't at the banquet! You know how much your father hates that boy, but still you and all the other girls insist on fawning over him!"
"Shush," the girl said, rolling her eyes. "I don't fawn over him. He's my friend. I, unlike all the other girls, don't really have any attraction to him."
"Which is probably why you're the only one he talks to," grumbled the boy. "Which is irritating, because then he soaks up all your time, and you're constantly up there talking to him!"
"Seriously," the girl said through gritted teeth. "Shush. I'm not up there now, right?"
"Well, no," the boy said slowly. "But that's probably because he's off somewhere. Bet if he was there you'd be with him."
"Possibly." The girl shrugged and looked around. "What time is it, anyway?"
The boy blinked and looked up. "Uh…" he said, shrugged. "I dunno. Moonrise, possibly?"
"What?" the girl shrieked. "Oh no! Damn it, I'm going to be late!"
"For your birthday party?" asked the boy with a snort. "Yeah, that's why I'm here."
"Asshole!" The girl slapped him over the head and bolted away, shouting as she went, "You should have told me earlier!"
The finger of the boy traced along the lines of the coast, his eyes flitting behind his mask. There was so much ground to cover, and yet he could not touch the border of that land. His empty chest ached to search the place, to salvage what he could before he burnt it to the ground, destroying all traces of fae magic. But alas, it was far too well protected, and the realm itself would tear the ship to pieces before he could set foot on the island. Magic didn't like him much, it seemed, and faeries liked him even less. They would not attack him, however, unless he did something to them. Unfortunately he couldn't get a grasp on one.
That was until he figured it out.
It was a huge secret, one that the gods kept under lock and key, because it wasn't supposed to be like this. He knew it well. He almost felt bad about it.
No he didn't, actually, because this was the only way, and he didn't give any shits about who he hurt.
"It's here," he said loudly, his finger stretching across the ocean from the island he'd been tracing, all the way to a massive strip of land marked in dull reds, blues, and yellows, to suggest borders and kingdoms. "The beginning of the end is right here."
"Isn't that something?" snickered one of his men. "I mean, we've been searching for the broad for over a decade, and she was under our noses the entire time!"
The boy smirked and tapped the dot that marked the city they were heading towards. "I know," he said, chuckling a bit. "It was a clever place to hide her, I must admit. But now she's ours."
"Are you going to kill her?" another one of his men asked, his expression blank.
"No," said the boy, stepping away from his maps. "I have other uses for her. I'm not interested in revenge at the current time, though I will get it, and it will be sweet."
"Do you think she'll be able to dull the faerie magic?" asked yet another crewmate with wide blue eyes. "Is that why you don't want to kill her?"
"It is a possibility I have not overlooked," the boy said with a shrug. "However, I am not sure if she knows yet, so we must take baby steps. I don't want her to throw herself overboard."
"Yeah," said one of the boy's men, rolling his bright green eyes. "That would suck some major shit."
"I'd also prefer it if none of you got too…" The boy tilted his head back. "Familiar with her, if you can comprehend?"
"No touchy the babe," said the green eyed man with another roll of his eyes and a snort. "We got it, captain. We'll keep our grubby hands to ourselves."
"Good," chuckled the captain. "Spread word to the rest of the crew. We need her to at least tolerate us."
A girl with sharp, knowing eyes dipped her finger into a shell of paint, and pressed it gently against the cool stone wall, catching the grooves easily. She watched as the paint scraped against the stone, making a flush of color appear against the gray. She did not smile at her accomplishment, but she allowed herself to be a little prideful as she made discernible shapes out of the paint at the tip of her finger. When she thought about it, the whole spectrum of colors in her mind's eye disappeared, and suddenly she couldn't tell what she was painting anymore. But when she let her mind go blank, everything flowed easily, and it was like magic to step back and see what she had painted.
She took a deep, steady breath as she pulled out of her dream-like state, her index finger centimeters from the wall. She stared at it as the bright golden paint dribbled down her skin and dripped, a droplet of it plopping to the stone floor. She gazed at it for a moment, blinking profusely, as if she had just woken up. She leaned back and wiped her finger against the seashell cup beside her, her eyes straying to her creation. She'd managed to finish it this time.
She stood up and yawned, stretching her arms high above her head. Her long white dress fell gently to her feet, and she smiled to herself a little as she jumped over her other paints, her calloused bare feet scraping against the cool stone as she moved toward the pale washing basin on the other side of the room. It was large, and there was a drawn curtain next to it that extended whenever she took a bath. It was twilight outside, she noticed as she peered out her solitary window, the night sky a faint pink and gray.
She dipped her hands, caked with a rainbow of colors, into the basin, lukewarm water lapping against them. Swirls of misty color came floating to the surface of the water, and the girl rubbed her hands together, trying hard to release the paint from her skin. She sighed and pulled her hands out of the water, wiping them on a towel that hung from a little ring above the basin. She looked around in boredom, her eyes drooping as she yawned again.
She walked toward her bed, twiddling her fingers as she went. She breathed in deeply as she began to pace slowly around her room, her eyes darting around her walls, which were a mix of drab and extraordinarily colorful.
"Oh," she whispered softly to herself. "This is so useless. Maybe if I just…" She glanced toward her window and swallowed hard. "Jumped?"
But she knew she'd end up killing herself if she did that. And thus she was trapped. She shook her head and stopped pacing, her eyes fluttering closed as she took deep breaths. "Well," she murmured to herself, glancing up at her ceiling. "I suppose it'd be safe to say that I need to ask for some things to entertain me next time?"
The ceiling did not answer her, and she cocked her head to the side. She glanced at her wall and scurried toward it, peering close at a painted boy, whose eyes were like amethysts. "What do you think? Should I jump?"
The painting did not answer her.
"Maybe I should. I mean, obviously no one honestly cares for me, right? Or else they would've come for me years ago."
The painted boy's mouth stayed closed.
"Why am I here if I have no reason to live? I can't be expected to just rot away here for my whole entire life."
If the painting had heard her, it was ignoring her.
"But I don't want to do it," sighed the girl, her eyes flickering to her window. "I don't want to die, at least not yet, not without… not without experiencing anything."
The painting was simply a painting. It could not speak, of course. And the girl knew this well.
"Maybe… I mean… no one would notice, right? Except her, of course, whenever she shows up again, but gosh, it'd be so easy…" She closed her eyes, allowing her thoughts to drift into the abyss. It'd be so, so easy. And it would save her from her awful, incredibly meaningless life. Was it a wonder how dearly she wanted out?
She gasped softly as she heard a high, faux sweet voice call to her, "Oh, Rapunzel, Rapunzel! Let down your hair!"
She cringed. What was she doing here? Hadn't she gone and run off to do whatever it was she did? The girl panicked. Had she done something wrong? Did she know what she had been thinking about doing…?
The girl rushed to the window, completely forgetting to reprimand the caller for naming her wrongly again. She gathered up her hair into a bundle in her arms, and she blinked a little as the soft blond strands tickled her nose. She took a deep breath and flung the lot of it out the window, nervously chewing on her nails as she felt the familiar tug of someone grasping her long, beautiful hair, and using it as a rope. She hissed a little at the tug on her scalp.
She waited, her eyes flashing around the room, and her heart thumping fast. What would she do this time? Was the girl in trouble, had she done something wrong? Oh, no, what was going to happen?
The girl took a deep breath, her eyes fluttering closed as she heard the woman get to her window, the creak of the wood signaling it. She heard a soft thump of feet hitting the floor, and the girl sighed, feeling her hair return by her feet. The girl's eyes opened slowly.
"What is it, Larx—" She gasped, and tripped backwards, falling flat on her back.
It was not Larxene.
"Good evening," said the masked boy with a dry chuckle. Her reflection stared back at her in the shininess of the black mask, and she shuddered, noting how horrorstricken she looked. "Dear sweet… Rapunzel, was it?"
People will get names over the next two chapters, and you will find out everyone's fairytale identity as well. I'd like anyone reading this crap to keep in mind, though, almost every character has two identities, most of which won't be revealed until later, so don't even worry about it.
This will be my major project after White Knight is finished, which is soon. I want to update these two fics at the same time every time until I'm done with White Knight so I can seriously commit, but...
Well, like I said in my first chapter of White Knight, I have commitment issues. We'll see how this goes.
Also, pairing wise, VenNami is obvious. Everybody else is fair game, so basically any pairing can happen at this point. I have an idea of who I'm shipping, but that's not set in stone.
That is all! I'd appreciate a review if you've gotten this far into this shit? =]