Chapter Text
Ah! stud-bred of ill-omen,
I have watched the strongest go -- men Of pith and might and muscle -- at your heels,
Down the plantain-bordered highway,(Heaven send it ne'er be my way!)
In a lacquered box and jetty upon wheels.
Answer, sombre beast and dreary,
Where is Brown, the young, the cheery,
Smith, the pride of all his friends and half the Force?
You were at that last dread dak
We must cover at a walk,
Bring them back to me, O Undertaker's Horse!
- The Undertaker’s Horse, R. Kipling
The following morning, as the birds began their songs and the townsfolk blearily emerged from their homes, Vanitas crept into the Bright Court. He slyly pilfered a set of clothing still hanging out on the line to dry and swapped out his conspicuous dark clothing for the cottony and flowing fabrics favored by Brightlings. He could do little to hide his black hair, unfortunately, so he made a mental note to search for a hat if he had time. He supposed he couldn’t be the only person in the kingdom with such dark hair, but still thought it best to try to blend in as much as possible. Idly he wondered if all Brightlings looked like Roxas. For his own sake, he hoped not.
As Vanitas stalked the streets, mapping out roadways and markers, Vanitas pondered the curious way Roxas had shown mercy to the fallen Nightling. All his life, Vanitas was taught that those in the Golden Kingdom were vapid, fickle fiends who revelled in excess, be it torture or other vices. Roxas hadn’t seemed to be any of those things. On the contrary he seemed quite… gentle.
It was a strange thought.
The sudden chiming of bells in the distance forced Vanitas’s attention away from Roxas. He looked toward the sound, finally spying in the distance a great castle of gold and glass. With his destination finally in sight, he set off in the direction of the castle grounds, eyeing each escape route along the way.
The Bright Queen was either stupid or arrogant, Vanitas had thought to himself. He casually strolled into the gated circumference surrounding the castle and was baffled at the ease of infiltration. All around him, merchants and commoners bustled to-and-fro, social classes mixing and conversing as if it were an everyday occurance. It was only years of practice carefully schooling his face into a perpetually unperturbed blank expression that saved Vanitas’s eyes from bulging out of his face.
He had expected more of a challenge. He had expected guarded towers and moats filled with leviathans. He hadn’t considered that he could just walk right in. It was just too easy. It had to be a trick. The Queen and Prince must have caught wind of the Night King’s plot. He raised his guard.
Vanitas made a deep rumbling noise of annoyance and doubled down surveying the layout of the ground. The market stalls were no good for hiding. The parapets were well-attended by guards. Frustrated, he slipped along the west side of the market, where the craft tables slowly dissipated into a field hedged by red roses.
In the distance, Vanitas heard a commotion. A chorus of shouts rang out, eclipsed by a feral whinny. When Vanitas looked further down the field he spied a stable, and in the flurry of dirt and dust in front of it, a large black beast was surrounded by frantic stablehands.
The beast appeared to have escaped his bonds, and reared up on two mighty legs, kicking out and sending its would-be capturers careening out of its way. The animal next barreled toward the direction of Vanitas. As it drew closer, Vanitas saw the dark and frightened eyes of the beast and felt a deep pang of sorrow.
Vanitas understood fear.
For a moment, the assassin forgot his mission. Faced with the animal’s palpable terror, he felt he had no choice but to become involved. The stablehands were running toward them now, brandishing whips and ropes. Vanitas frowned and stepped to block the path of the beast before it could pass him. It skidded to a stop, gravel and grass spraying up beneath its hooves as it bucked in fear before him.
Vanitas held his hands out, palms up, and made a soft humming noise toward the black beast. It’s nostrils flared as it snorted.
“Come now, you,” Vanitas said quietly. He reached toward the animal and gently placed a hand on its great neck. It’s skin rippled at the touch, as if it had never felt such a gentle sensation.
The creature pounded another massive hooved foot toward the ground and Vanitas jumped back to avoid having his toes crushed.
Undaunted, Vanitas reached out a second hand and smoothed it across the coarse black hair. He tried his best to make a soothing noise and blinked up to look at the beast’s eyes. Now calmed, he was able to see that it had a wall-eye. The pale blue color was piercing.
“I won’t hurt you,” he told it, staring into its blue eye.
Another stomp.
“I won’t let them hurt you, either.”
A huff, then a light whinny.
”Be still.”
As Vanitas pet the creature, he marveled at its strong muscles and proud face. He smiled then, and the beast pressed its head toward Vanitas’s chest, suddenly calm. The assassin scratched behind its tufted ears, and laughed at the happy noise that escaped the once terrified animal.
The crowd from the stables had arrived behind them, but kept their distance, clearly fearful of the beast’s reaction.
“You some kind of horse whisperer?” a brunet man asked.
Vanitas looked at him blankly and continued to pet the horse. He had never seen a horse so big before.
“No one has been able to go near this one so far, and here you are with it practically nuzzling you at first sight.”
Vanitas shrugged, eyes still trained on black fur.
The man stepped forward with a rope, which set the horse off once more. It yelled and stomped, refusing the lead.
“Would you… mind helping us get him back home? He seems to have taken a liking to you.”
Vanitas scowled. A fine beast like this should not be made to fear its home.
“We’re trying to save it, you know. It was supposed to be a birthday gift for Prince Ventus. My mistress sent me to deliver the brute, but… well… We can’t allow such a dangerous gift to hurt the Bright Prince. Such an act would risk the peace between his people and mine.”
“So you will see it killed for its pride?”
The brunet sighed. “I don’t want to. But what can I do? This horse is unbreakable. I can’t hand him over to the Prince like this.”
The horse lipped at Vanitas’s messy hair and it’s warm breath tickled. The assassin smiled softly, sadly, and looked hard at the other man.
The man coughed awkwardly. “Have you a job? What say you to working for me? If you can calm this beast, you’ll be forever in our debt. And his, no doubt,” he added while gesturing toward the horse.
Vanitas considered the offer.
“What is its name?”
“Pardon?”
“The horse!”
“Bucephalus,” the man said timidly.
Vanitas looked to Bucephalus. Pretending to be a horse trainer was as fine a plan as any other to occupy his days while he planned a route to his mission. And besides, the horse was a gift for the Prince. With any luck, Vanitas might not need to go looking for Ventus at all— the Prince might come to the stable of his own accord to see his new prize. How brilliant that would be! Vanitas could murder the Prince in his very own stable and then ride away with his steed.
Vanitas smiled at the man. That was how Vanitas started to work at the stable.
The brunet stablemaster, a man by the name of Hayner, explained to Vanitas that he had sailed from across the Mirror Sea from his homeland of Scala Ad Caelum to deliver the horse.
Vanitas had never heard of such a place.
As Hayner described his mistress, the Pirate Queen, Xion, and her misty, romantic nation built along the coast of the Mirror Sea, Vanitas felt himself shrinking. Suddenly the world became much larger, and in its expanse he felt insignificant and small.
How many other worlds were there? All of Vanitas’s life had been focused on the dueling between the Night and Bright Courts… to know a life existed outside of the two left him nearly breathless.
The rest of the day passed peacefully.
Vanitas spent the daylight with Bucephalus. He brushed and sang to the horse, fed it apples from his hand. Vanitas was fond of the black beast. He made up his mind that he would not allow the creature to be destroyed.
As the sun began to lower, the sky turning from blue to orange fire, Vanitas felt a peculiar sensation ticking his neck.
He was being watched.
As subtly as he could, Vanitas cast his eyes across the paddock where Bucephalus grazed happily. Like a magnet, his golden eyes found the source of his apprehension leaning against the white fence, setting sun obscuring the details of the person’s face. Vanitas squinted into the light and took a tentative step in the stranger’s direction.
He blinked in surprise. The words came out before he had a chance to think better of it. “Roxas?”
The figure straightened himself and tilted his head. A cloud passed overhead, removing the glare from Vanitas’s vision, and revealed that it was indeed Roxas. He was dressed in a fine suit and clean of any dirt or blood, but Vanitas was certain.
“Is that not you?”
The man paused for a moment. A strange look crossed his face. “R-right. Yes, have we met?”
“We met on the battlefield’s edge last night,” Vanitas said. His heart pounded.
Roxas’s eyes widened and he stepped up onto the lower part of the fence excitedly, leaning over to get closer. “You’re No One!”
Vanitas tried unsuccessfully to stifle a smile. Why was he doing this?
“I see you did have top secret business in the city then!” Roxas laughed, pointing toward the horse.
“You know Bucephalus?”
“Ah… only… through word of mouth. I came to take a look at him myself. He hardly seems the demon everyone has made him out to be.”
“He’s no demon,” Vanitas growled.
Roxas smiled. He was about to speak once more when Hayner exited the stable and shouted in their direction.
“Who goes there?”
Hayner jogged toward Roxas at the fence and slapped a callused hand on the man’s shoulder, turning him to get a look at his face.
“Y-you’re!” Hayner shouted, upon seeing Roxas’s face. “Your maj—”
“The name is Roxas,” Roxas said loudly, interrupting the stablemaster. He smiled at Hayner, who took a step back.
Curious .
“R-rox-”
“Yes, call me Roxas. I’m just here to admire your beautiful horse. Pay me no mind, I meant no offense.”
Hayner gaped at the blond man.
Bucephalus took this moment to butt his head at Vanitas’s back, shoving the assassin forward toward Hayner and Roxas. Vanitas stumbled just a bit before he caught his balance.
Roxas laughed. The sound sent blood rushing to Vanitas‘s cheeks. His face felt hot and swollen.
Hayner coughed and took a step back.
“Would you be so kind as to walk with me and tell me more about your horse,” Roxas inquired, as he turned his eyes away from Vanitas.
Hayner dipped his head respectfully.
With one last soft smile, Roxas waved to Vanitas and Bucephalus. “I’ll come back see you tomorrow.”
Vanitas wasn’t sure if he meant Vanitas or Bucephalus , and the confusion roaring in his ears sounded like the pounding of hooves or the crash of waves.
Why should it matter anyway?
“Forgive me,” Hayner cried. “Your majesty, I did not know you went by another name.”
Ventus clapped a hand on the diplomat’s back. “All is well, good man. However… I would greatly appreciate it if you kept this to yourself. It’s not often I am able to interact with someone who knows nothing of my station. It makes for refreshing conversation.”
“Sir?”
“Your new trainer— please continue to allow him to refer to me as Roxas. I’d like to know him not as the future King, but just as any other man might.”
“Are you sure?”
Ventus laughed warmly. “Please allow me this kindness.”
“Of course!”
And that was how Prince Ventus deceived the assassin and avoided death once more.