Chapter Text
“Terra! Aqua! Did you see that!?” Ven exclaimed, flourishing his keyblade after performing a mid-air cartwheel and landing squarely on his own two feet. He’d been bounding across the grassy training ground for the better part of 20 minutes and showed no signs of tiring.
“Sure did, Ven. Looking good!” Terra encouraged from the ancient broken stone pillars that served as seats.
The trio had enjoyed an evening picnic outdoors in the warm setting sun, along with Chirithy. Ven had been eager to share tales of his dreams and the adventures he’d seen, and often felt as a participant. It was helpful, grounding, and allowed them to regain some understanding of the epic trials the worlds had been through in their time apart. Hazy patterns of understanding started to settle, and exuberance and relief began taking root in the myriad of emotions they were feeling.
Aqua felt the weight of her time away from the Realm of Light, separated from the places and people she loved. Her eternity away had tended to shift in feelings of time, simultaneously dreadfully unending and monotonously condensed. Hearing of all that had happened in her absence, she felt as if she’d missed entire ages. She turned her face to the sunset, vibrant orange fading to deep blue, willing the bright light to burn away the underlying pangs of regret.
She was here with her family. She was home. She was so full of feelings that she thought surely she would need somewhere else other than her own form to contain them. In the short time they had been reunited, she’d talked sparingly of her time in the Realm of Darkness, and Terra less still; he said his memories were sporadic. There were times when he lit up, when he smiled at them warmly, when she felt they’d connected. But she also saw him slightly flinch or grow distant as Ven mentioned the dark clouds that had drawn across the worlds. The exuberance of youth helped, though. There were times of hollow, sad smiles, and there were times of genuine happiness. There were times that felt normal, like everything was as it had been and as it should be, and then her mind would shift and nothing could possibly ever feel normal again.
Aqua rode the turbulent sea of her emotions. For now, she drew comfort from her friends, trusting the waters surely must calm with time. She was grateful for the laughter after their meal, glad that joy still could push away the sadness.
She watched Ven leap across the grass, and call out, “Hey, watch this!”
Ven threw his keyblade like a boomerang around the obstacles of the training ground, calling it back to his hand, and striking a dramatic pose. Chirithy hopped with delight, waving his little paws.
“Ven, how are you not tired yet?” Aqua marveled.
“Aqua, I slept for ten years! It feels so good to move!” He spun in a circle.
An easy yet loaded comment. Happiness. Freedom. Reunion. Time. Burden. Loss.
“Somebody come spar with me!” Ven continued. “Terra, come on!”
Aqua watched Terra draw away again, but recover quickly. She imagined he had no intention of raising his keyblade against them, even to play fight. “Nah, not me, I’m beat,” he replied with ease.
“Tomorrow, maybe?” Ven prompted.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Aqua?” Ven turned his attentions on her.
“Ven, remember I haven’t slept in ten years,” she said with a laugh. She chose not to dwell on it.
Ven laughed, too. “All right, all right, but you both owe me! I want to see all your new moves so I can learn how to beat them!”
“What if we packed up here and went back inside to keep talking, or played a game or something for a little while?” Aqua proposed.
Chirithy bounced. “I know lots of games! I can teach you!”
Terra grinned at the small gray spirit. “Sounds good to me.”
He rose, and Aqua sat transfixed for a moment. He was beautiful, all gilded in the golden light of sunset. Had she forgotten how tall he was? How gentle his smile could be? How blue his eyes were…
He offered her a hand to get up, and she took it, feeling the warmth of his strong hand around hers, her heart thumping against her ribs like a captive bird fluttering against the bars of a cage.
He’s here. He’s safe. So why do I still just ache...?
Ven flung himself at the two of them, putting an arm around them both and hugging them tight. They laughed together, Terra ruffling Ven’s hair, hugging in return.
“So, what are we playing?” Ven asked from somewhere in the tangle of limbs. “Hide and seek?”
“No!” Aqua gasped, involuntarily clinging to them both a little tighter. The two of them had been just out of her grasp for so long. She gathered herself, but no, certainly no hide and seek for a while.
They chuckled together, Aqua joining in as she relaxed. Just a game. Innocent. Then, Terra added lightly, “Ven, you shouldn’t tease Aqua like that.”
“Aw,” Ven stepped back and stretched, putting his hands behind his head in a thoughtful gesture. “Well, I’m pretty much the grand champion of Hide and Seek anyway.”
“Hey! You had a little help!” Aqua prodded back. She wondered if it was, in fact, her who was the Hide and Seek grand champion.
“Chirithy, teach us a new game!” urged Ven.
Chirithy bounced, his small cape fluttering. He went on to share the rules of his proclaimed very favorite game, Chirithy Says, and launched into a spirited game.
The game was a rousing success, with the little Dream Eater proposed charming, silly tasks to be performed with a Chrithy Says direction, or ignored without. The best rounds included Ven making some truly ridiculous faces, Aqua standing on her head for a turn, and Terra hopping on one foot most of the way down the mountain path. Aqua was the first out when Chrithy directed her to hold Terra’s hand without the key Chirithy Says, as it looked like Terra was about to lose his balance. Terra took the win when Ven was instructed to give Chirithy a hug without the key words. They had all been laughing until their sides ached as they made their way back inside.
The follow-up game was Chirithy’s Castle, which was set in the library. The trio took turns using furniture, books, and other magical items to construct a structure to Chirithy’s specifications. They all worked together on the first half of the sprawling structure, but the game gradually became more central to Ven and Chirithy. Aqua got comfortable on a chaise forming an outer barricade wall, and watched Ven build while Terra seemed preoccupied with the Master’s desk, serving as a distant town marker.
Aqua found herself nodding off, and realized that Ven had not been moving around the “castle” very much. She got up to peek between the towers, and found Ven curled up in a heap of cushions. Chirithy was gently petting his spiky hair with a soft paw. “He’s very good at this game,” Chirithy said quietly.
As natural as Ven looked, Aqua couldn’t help the flicker of unease at his unconscious form.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” she said, leaning down to nudge him softly.
“Hm?” roused Ven, rubbing his eyes.
Aqua felt silly at her relief of his waking, but let out a breath just the same. “You want to go to bed?”
“No, ‘m awake,” he mumbled, curling back on the cushion.
“I think maybe normal sleep really did catch up with you again,” she said, giving his arm a little squeeze.
Ven scrunched his face. “Maybe I could sleep,” he relented. He sat up to give Aqua a hug, which was mostly Ven just flopping forward onto her. He then picked his way out of Chirithy’s construction to give Terra a hug, too.
“See you in the morning, Ven,” said Terra, ruffling his hair.
“Yeah. We’ll spar, bright and early, right before breakfast!”
“Yeah, we’ll see.”
Ven, perked a bit, shuffled his way toward the door.
“Sweet dreams, Ven,” wished Aqua.
Chirithy nudged Ven along, nodding to Aqua as they passed. “I’ll take care of the dreams.”
Aqua smiled. Apparently Dream Eaters were serious about their job descriptions. She turned her attention to Terra, who seemed to be studying her. “You look pretty sleepy yourself,” he observed.
“More like weary,” she replied honestly.
He grimaced. “I know what you mean. But I feel restless, too…” He stopped himself and turned to face the wall of books.
Aqua knew he was hurting, and finding the right balance between support and space was tricky. She wasn’t sure how she herself needed it yet, so Terra was probably also working that out. “I’m going to make sure Ven gets to bed,” she said, raising the end as a question.
He looked over his shoulder and gave her a small smile. “Make sure he takes his shoes off.”
She returned his smile and left the room. However, once Terra was out of sight, she second guessed if maybe she did want the company after all. Her footsteps echoed softy through the warm stone halls. She had seen these halls with their ornate designs in her memory so often during her time in the Dark, actually being back felt slightly surreal. Had she forgotten that particular alcove? Had it always been there? How could she forget? Were the walls really this soft and bright, even in the dark of night? Had she really given up hope of ever coming home? It really wasn’t her heart playing tricks, right?
Aqua wasn’t sure how long it would take to shake that one little part of her that questioned reality; maybe it was part of her now, but maybe someday it would quiet enough so she didn’t have to stop and wonder when her friends would vanish, the walls would crumble, and she’d be in the darkness again.
But, then she thought of the feeling of the sun on her face, the warmth of Terra’s hand, Ven’s laugh, the smell of the books in the library… Those were real.
She popped her head into Ven’s room, cool blue in the starlight. She was comforted to see Ven there, even if she still felt some unease with his sleeping form. He was, however, unceremoniously flopped face-first on the bed, softly snoring. Chirithy was curled up in a little ball beside him. Sure enough, Ven’s shoes were still on.
Aqua made her way over and gently tugged off his shoes, then settled a blanket over him. He stirred, but slept on.
She fought the urge to wake him. She had spent so long thinking about the need to wake Ven, that his sleep was unnatural, that he needed her, that it still didn’t feel quite right to leave him sleeping.
Chirithy blinked up at her with tiny blue eyes. “It’s okay, I’m looking after him.”
Had Ven needed a Dream Eater for all those years? Surely there were scary, dark moments in Sora’s adventures and in Roxas and Xion’s adventures, too, as those memories filtered in and out of each others’ intertwined hearts. There was heartache. There were nightmares.
And Chirithy seemed to be bonded to Ven. Was it that Ven needed another pair of eyes on his dreams, if only to make sure he didn’t get lost in them again? Or was it something else?
“Chirithy, did you know Ventus before he came to live with us?” Aqua asked quietly.
Chirithy had curled back up next to Ven, soft paws under his cheek, and was either asleep or feigning it, ignoring her question.
She watched them for a moment, feeling torn. She wanted to watch over Ven, but at the same time, watching him sleep still made her unaccountably anxious. Accepting Chirithy’s word as a helpful spirit, with reservation, she turned and made her way back to the library.
Reason said Terra would be fine, but her sense of unease pushed her forward. She felt a little silly taking quick steps through the hall, but she continued her fast pace, impatient to see him.
Of course, Terra was still there, having pushed some of the larger pieces of furniture back into place, and was perusing some books. The small relief bought other fond memories of the library, of long hours of companionship, and of Master Eraqus studying at his desk, so wise and kind. She had enjoyed studying magical texts -- there were certainly times she and Terra had assignments when she just wanted to shove the books aside, take her keyblade in hand and take on the world, but she also found reward in the keyblade wielder lore of old, in learning techniques, of reading the words of other masters (other women masters), their challenges and triumphs. She’d dreamed of her future as a keyblade wielder and seen herself in their words.
She had never dreamed of the events that ultimately transpired.
Coming back to the present, Aqua watched Terra alternate between restless movement and a still, uncharacteristically pensive posture. His jaw was set, shoulders up, motions sharp.
She eased into the room and Terra froze.
“Do you want to be alone?” she asked gently, directly.
He let out a breath and was quiet for a moment, thinking, staring at the book in his hands. “I’m not sure,” he eventually answered. He struggled through his thoughts aloud. “In… some ways… it’s a relief that the only voice in my head is my own. But it’s strange. And it’s not the same thing as being alone.”
Strange. Aching and shocking familiarity. Forced isolation and bound connection. How were they supposed to deal with all of this?
“I can go?” she offered. She really didn’t want to go.
He turned to face her, the depth in his blue eyes striking. A request, a plea: “Stay.”
She gave him a soft smile as she crossed the room, taking a seat at the window. It had been a favorite spot when the Master used to read to them as children. The cool night breeze wafted the curtains, carrying the sound of peepers, smelling of mountain air, of green grass, of life. The sky was so bright with stars. Had she forgotten the true appearance of stars? She took in the gentle twinkle, the swirls of color of distant nebula, the hearts of worlds, the connections between herself, her friends, the past, the present, the future. The darkness of night stirred memories, but when she watched the sky, it truthfully felt nothing like the Realm of Darkness.
The warm light of the library chased away shadows. Terra was here, returned, in body, mind, heart, and spirit, if hurting terribly. She wanted to fling her arms around him, bury her face against him, never let him go, but she wasn’t sure if he was ready for the depths of her emotion; she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that, but the night air seemed to whisper of life, of surprising possibility, and a welcome recovery before the dawn.
She smiled, turning her attention back to the library. “Ven’s asleep,” she said. “It was all I could do not to wake him again. Silly, isn’t it?” She tried to shake herself out of her musings.
“I don’t think so,” Terra reassured her.
“I know it’s just normal sleep. But…”
“Maybe you should get some sleep, too?” He was being as gentle with her as she was with him. She appreciated it.
“Soon,” she replied, watching Terra shift another scroll. “Are you looking for something?”
“Familiarity,” he admitted. “Something of myself, maybe. But I never did understand how the Master kept the library organized.”
She uncurled herself from the window seat and went to stand next to him, taking a look at the scroll in his hands. Orbs of Light. Her heart thudded in her chest as she remembered their exam. Terra stood frozen, staring blankly at the document with distant eyes, undoubtedly lost in memory.
“The Master did have his own way of doing things,” she said as carefully as she could while she perused the shelf. When Terra looked up again, she pointed to a spot where she believed the scroll went. A thought crept up that now no one knew the library better than she did, and the pain of loss caught her by surprise.
“I miss him,” Terra said, a wavering edge in his voice, attempting to be controlled. “I know he’s been gone a long time, but his absence feels so fresh here.”
Aqua took a steadying breath, too, nodding once. “Do you mean here...?” she gestured around the library, at the texts and the desk, “or here?” taking a step forward and tapping her fingertip lightly to his chest.
He took her hand in his and held it against his chest. She felt his warmth, his breath, the steady beat of his heart. “Both. Well… the first, I guess. He’ll always be in all our hearts.”
She slipped her hand away, feeling a little overwhelmed, turning back to the shelf. “Speaking of sharing hearts, I wonder if Ven will still dream of Sora’s adventures?”
“We could ask,” Terra replied. “Roxas, Xion, Sora and Ven are all their own people now, but I wonder if the bond will last anyway. Sharing a heart for so long might leave lingering connections.” Aqua glanced back at Terra and looked troubled. She felt the urge to throw herself into his arms again, and was considering her response when Terra continued, “In some ways, I hope Ven can just dream normal dreams for a change.”
“And what did you dream about when you were Ven’s age?”
Terra quirked a smile. “Oh, heroic deeds. Rescuing princesses. Saving worlds. The usual.”
“From what I gather, that sounds a lot like Sora’s adventures anyway.”
Terra chucked. “You have a point.”
“Yours, too.”
Terra shifted, eyes downcast, frowning. “Not all of them.”
“Terra,” she began, her voice earnest. “You did do good. And everyone we met out there, all those years ago, they’re all okay. The worlds are safe.”
“No thanks to me. It all went wrong so fast. That first world when this all started, I still can’t believe…”
“Aurora is safe. And happy.”
“Is she?” His eyes looked haunted. “That’s good. I’m glad somebody cleaned up my mess.”
Aqua knew he was hurting, but he hadn’t shut her out or made for the door yet. “I think Phillip would have braved any challenge for Aurora.”
“Who’s Phillip?”
“The prince who broke the spell on her. They met in the forest and fell in love before either of them knew they were already betrothed. He told me while we were escaping that only true love’s kiss could break the Maleficent’s curse. His love saved her.”
“Until she was used as a Light, and her world was cast into darkness.”
“I saw her world in the Realm of Darkness before it was restored. All those worlds were restored, Terra, by Sora, and, and, in a way, by Ven. I saw him there in Enchanted Dominion. I saw you,” Aqua said softly.
“Was that real?” Their eyes locked across the desk and time seemed to freeze again.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Her heartbeat sounded loud in her ears. How many times had she imagined him in that space without time? She felt like she was losing her mind far too often, but knowing that even one of those meetings, one of those whispers might have been real...
Terra’s astonishment melted away into a beautiful, sad smile. “I told you, Aqua, you always lit my way in the dark.”
Aqua felt her face warm and tears prickle at the corners of her eyes.
Terra looked away, back down at the books on the Master’s desk. “I’m glad it worked out. I just wish I could have been more help, instead of part of the problem.”
“You’re not to blame, Terra. You told me yourself, Xehanort manipulated you. He used you against your will.”
He flinched. “One of many paths.”
“What’s that?”
“What he said to me, in here.” He gestured to his chest. “That stealing my life, making me a prisoner in my own mind, using my strength to hurt others, even those I would’ve rather died than harm, was just one of many paths towards his goal.”
“But in the end, you were the one who carried our last hope to stop him.”
Terra’s breath hitched, then let it out in a heavy sigh. After a moment, he picked up an armful of books, and handed half to Aqua. “So Aurora is okay now, huh?”
She adjusted to the tonal shift as they crossed paths to shelve books. “Yes. The Good Fairies visit Yen Sid, and they said Phillip and Aurora are well, and happy. Snow White and Cinderella, too.”
“That’s good.”
“I thought you’d want to know. Cinderella in particular. Since, you know… you liked her,” Aqua added in a curiously nonchalant tone as she shelved a book. She watched for Terra’s reaction out of the corner of her eye.
“I… wha…” The swift sequence of expressions across Terra’s face was downright comical; innocent confusion, consternation, and finally suspicion. “Aqua, are you teasing me?”
She kept her face straight. “What? No! Would I do that?”
“Yeah, you would!”
She let out her laugh. “I guess I would.”
“Maybe you’d better get some rest after all, if you’re muddled enough to think that I had a crush on Cinderella.”
“Then you won’t be upset to hear that she married her prince.”
“Why would I be upset that she finally has someone to care about her who isn’t a rodent? Uh… no offense to the King.”
“I won’t tell,” Aqua assured him conspiratorially.
“He did seem… good enough for her, didn’t he?” asked Terra thoughtfully.
“The Prince? Yes, he seemed kind, and sweet, and very smitten.”
Terra nodded, seemingly satisfied.
Aqua let out a great involuntary yawn, and edged back toward the window seat. “Who else did we both meet?”
“We can finish comparing notes in the morning. But from the sound of things, I’m going to guess that everyone found true love and lived happily ever after. Well, maybe not Peter?”
“I think Peter already found his true love.”
Terra mulled this over a moment. “... the freedom of youth?”
Aqua laughed as she settled onto the window cushion. “I was thinking the pixie, but you’re probably right. And I’m not sure about our little blue alien friend. I hope he found his family. We’ll have to ask.”
“Ask tomorrow. Go get some sleep,” he said gently.
She ran her hands over her face. She was tired, and the truth was easier to admit. “I want to sleep. But…”
Terra took a few steps closer. “What’s wrong?”
She took a breath. “When I came in and asked if you wanted to be alone...?”
Terra nodded.
“Turns out… I’m the one who really doesn’t want to be alone. When you or Ven are out of my sight, I feel like there’s a cold hand on my heart, like I’m never going to find you again. I’m sitting here worried about Ven, even though I know he’s okay. And I’m worried about you. I think it will get better with time, but… if you don’t mind, for now? I’d like to just... curl up here and rest for a bit while you sort the Master’s things.”
Terra came next to the window, and his features were once again beautifully melancholy. “You could, but this drafty old window seat is no place for you to sleep.” He offered his hand. “Come on,” he beckoned.
She automatically placed her hand in his, then asked, “Where…?”
“My room,” replied Terra. “Your bed is too short for me, remember?”
She blushed as he helped her to her feet, simultaneously feeling she was standing too close to Terra and also not close enough. She remembered years of Terra, and later, Terra and Ven, bounding into her room at all hours, for a meteor shower, or for a special breakfast, or just bouncing on her bed to wake her in the morning. She did her share of bed crashing, too, though. But she remembered that, when he stretched out, Terra’s feet had dangled off the edge of her mattress since he was Ven’s age.
They walked together in quiet companionship, though when they passed her room, Aqua gave Terra’s hand a quick squeeze and said she’d follow in a minute. Curling up in Terra’s bed was… not something she had anticipated, and she was decidedly trying not to overthink it. She took a breath to calm her fluttering heart and racing mind.
She was tired. She realized hadn’t felt this particular sensation of tiredness for a long time. With no cycles of daylight and no sense of time, the Realm of Darkness had not afforded proper rest. She had tried a routine of sleep at first, finding secluded spots, closing her eyes, but found sleep elusive. With the threat of the Heartless, it was just as well that she hadn’t required the vulnerability, and with only her imagination for company, she had come to wonder how sleep would be any different from waking anyway. She had switched to periods of meditation, of trying to quiet her mind from her own thoughts. She didn’t know for how long. And then, eventually, she would press on, looking for a way back to the Realm of Light, looking for a way back to help Ven and Terra.
Terra, who was now welcoming her into his bed.
To Sleep, she reminded herself as she felt her flushed skin. Genuine sleep would be a welcome luxury.
She wouldn’t mind changing out of her corset and remaining armor pieces, though. No use stabbing holes in the sheets with her shoes.
Strange, how the articles of clothing had become almost a part of her after all this time. In some ways, she felt very wrong catching sight of herself in the mirror wearing so few layers. The lines and the colors were all wrong, and her reflection was another person staring back at her. But did darkness cling to the clothing, to her body, to her soul?
She looked around her room in the starlight and was again shocked with the familiarity. Her books, maps and telescope, her bright quilt of stars and flowers, her plush otter, her jeweled trunk at the foot of her bed. She opened it; the scent of cedar warm and full of memory. She pulled out an old soft nightgown with fluttery sleeves and slipped it on, hugging herself.
As she turned to go, she caught sight of her desk, covered with neat piles of metal and colored glass, scraps from making the Wayfinders from the last night before… everything.
She turned and made her way toward Terra’s room.
The scene was as if from a distant fantasy she’d allowed herself. She found him leaning against his windowsill, armor removed, gazing out at the stars, outlined in soft light. He turned to her, and she pictured herself racing into his arms. Instead, she surprisingly found herself rooted to the doorway.
“We used to do this all the time when we were little,” he said gently, as though to set her at ease, and possibly himself, as well.
She remembered that, too. When they had both wanted the same storybook, they would curl up under the blankets with a light spell. She’d scold Terra for turning the pages too fast when she wanted to keep looking at the pictures and he was too excited to find out what happened next. After they both fell asleep, the Master would come and carry her to her own room; sometimes she’d wake up curled against his chest, smelling bitter tea, or when he tucked the blankets around her and laid a gentle hand on her hair.
They’d stopped this ritual sometime around when Terra got so tall, without comment or ceremony. Terra would simply choose a different book at bedtime; if she expressed interest in the one he picked, he’d hand it over to her, or they would stay up a little later to read together in the study.
“We’re not so little anymore,” observed Aqua, giving voice to their changed lives.
Terra glanced downward, but then slowly swept his eyes back up to hers. “No, we’re not.” Terra agreed.
Even if she and Terra had a lot to work through, and even if it took time, it helped to know they were going to work through it together.
She moved forward, padding over to his bed and turning down the blanket. “I didn’t bring a storybook.”
“I’ll tell you one from memory then. Once upon a time…”
She smiled as she slipped in among the sheets, the pillow giving off a clean scent that smelled of Terra, faintly of wood and citrus. He settled on top of the covers next to her, very close indeed, their heads together on the pillow, hands nearby. Did he look older? It was imperceptible in his features, but his eyes held more depth. His eyelashes remained impossibly long.
“Once upon a time,” Terra repeated, voice deep and quiet, “there was a girl who lived with her teacher and her two best friends, and they all loved each other very much…”
“I think I know this story. Does it have a happy ending?”
“Don’t know, haven’t finished it yet. It has some sad parts, but I promise I’ll stop somewhere good.”
She felt a little chill among the still-cool sheets. “Won’t you be cold?”
“Doubt it.”
Terra had always run a little warmer than her. She remembered countless cold mornings of combat training, when he’d hold her fingers between his palms to warm them during the Master’s instructions between bouts.
She curled into his warmth, snuggling down to press her forehead against his solid chest, allowing a few hot tears to escape.
“Tell me this is real,” she whispered.
She felt one of Terra’s arms come around her, the comforting weight of the blanket and of Terra’s arm, and she felt his cheek against the top of her head.
“Well,” he began, his voice cracking. She felt some wetness against her hair, the movement of his jaw. He cleared his throat, and she felt the vibration of his voice in his chest. “My dreams were never this nice when I was lost in the dark.”
She pressed her eyes shut. “Neither were mine.”
“So this must be real, right?”
She found Terra’s hand on the blanket and held it tight. His fingers intertwined with hers and rested snug between their hearts.
Terra had been lulled by Aqua’s slow, steady breaths of sleep. She was warm and soft and still against him, and he was glad she’d found rest. He hoped the long sweep of his arm and torso around her helped her feel as protected from the dark as she made him feel, curled against his chest, a barrier of protective light in front of his heart.
Deep sleep was elusive, but even the quiet period of meditative rest was welcoming. Dark thoughts receded to the edges of his mind, and he found a bit of calm, for a time.
He was roused as Aqua shifted against him, making a small, sleepy sound of discontent. She twitched again, a sharper jerk. She then pushed away from him, back arched, and thrashed her head from side to side.
A nightmare.
Terra started to wake her, moving his hand up toward her shoulder.
A horrible, intrusive flash of his own struck across his memory: his own hand slowly, almost casually tightening around her slim neck, lifting her entire body off her feet with one arm, watching her squirm; fighting, clawing, crying out…
Terra recoiled, feeling sick. Bitter anger, revulsion, and shame washed over him as he balled his fist, taking a ragged breath.
That’s not you. It was him. You would never. That’s not now. You’re in control. She needs you. Help her.
Terra uncurled his shaking fingers and ever-so-lightly pressed his palm to Aqua’s shoulder.
“Aqua,” he said, his voice rough, shocking in the darkness. She made another sound of distress and twitched again.
“Aqua,” he said louder, clearer, more insistent. He willed her to open her eyes, to wake up, to be okay, please be okay, please be here with me right now.
Her eyes shot open and she gasped, a long, deep breath, sputtering, her hands clinging to the material of his shirt, and gulped lungfuls of air.
He watched recognition come to her eyes and felt her body relax as she looked around. She curled back tight against him, whispering his name, and he ran his hand along her back through the blanket.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, comforting. “It was a nightmare. You’re safe, Aqua. You’re here with me, you’re home. I’ve got you.”
He felt her face against his chest, and she squeezed her arm against his side, wrapping her hand around to his back. Her breath calmed, and she whispered again, “I was dreaming about the darkness.”
“It can’t hurt you now,” he whispered back.
Could he take his own advice? The gnawing concerns crept back to his consciousness, of failures, of fears, of loss. The very real waking nightmares he had endured left a pain and uncertainty that felt a lot like darkness, and it scared him. After all this time, had he truly made no progress from when he sought control? If he sought the power to crush the darkness from himself, wasn’t that, in itself, a darkness? But if he gave in to the fear, let the pain wash over him as it threatened to do, he felt he’d be swallowed alive again, a dark, lost heart. While Xehanort was gone, what lasting damage had been done? Divided into smaller and smaller portions, a decade of fighting, of being held prisoner in his own body, how couldn’t his heart be left damaged, tainted by darkness? While he was free now, would he fall to being his own dark enemy?
Terra shook himself and took a steadying breath. If these were the concerns that plagued his waking hours, sleep would surely be a welcome respite, but he loathed to see the nightmares that awaited. But he must eventually come to some kind of peace. Even if there was corruption in his heart, he also knew, without a doubt, there was light. And even if he wavered, even when he lost, he had a lot of experience strengthening his light with the memory and support of the ones he loved.
Aqua remained curled in his arms, pressed against his chest. She had the bravery to let go and risk facing the unknown of sleep. She was his light in the darkness, and the least he could do was be strong for her when she needed him.
“Nightmares are a lot less scary in the light of day,” Terra murmured against her hair. “You can tell me about it in the morning, if you want.”
She rolled away a little, settling on her back, her shoulder still warm against his chest. She took slow breaths in and out, and nodded.
“You could sleep more?” he offered.
“Easy to say.”
“Don’t make me cast Sleep on you.”
She turned her head to give him a skeptical look, which softened into a smile. Her eyes were luminous in the starlight. “You? Cast Sleep? On me?” The edges of her smile wavered, and she couldn’t suppress a giggle.
“Hey! I know you’re the stronger mage, but I know what I’m doing.”
She reached up with a cool, delicate hand and stroked it along his temple. He closed his eyes at her touch.
“It’s not your magic,” she clarified kindly, “It’s your hair. It’s a mess.”
Well, he’d probably rather have her impugn his bedhead than his hard earned magic skills. In fact, he’d highly consider messing it up more often if it got her to keep running her fingers through his hair.
A blink of an eye ago, the improbable scenario of Aqua, beautiful, talented, beloved Aqua, curled next to him in his own bed, in his own restored body, giving him comfortable caresses was unfathomable. He allowed himself a passing moment to wonder about other unfathomable things; of a pure heart, of worth, of passions.
He let out a steadying breath. “I, um…” he cleared his throat. “You might… if you want to get more sleep, I was thinking you might want to go back to your room. Ven will probably be in here at the crack of dawn.”
“Ah. Good point.” Her hand stilled, and he reached up to give it a small squeeze.
“I’ll sit with you until you fall asleep again,” he said, reassuring. Sit, as he didn’t fit in her bed, after all.
She sat up and brought her hand to her cheek. Was she covering a blush? “I’m sorry to keep you up. I know I’m being foolish…” she began.
“Please,” he said gently. “I think I needed this too. I just didn’t know how to ask.”
She smiled over her shoulder, then slipped out of bed, fabric swishing softly. The sight of her, sleepy and disheveled as she left his bed, was affecting. He felt flushed, acutely aware that they were far from the innocent, happy days of childhood when they could giggle with the blanket pulled up over their heads and fall asleep on their storybook.
But how could she ever think of you like that, after everything you put her through? You’re lucky she trusts you, forgives you, still loves you at all…
And yet, she paused with an open hand, waiting for him to join her. He interlaced his fingers with hers and they padded quietly together toward the hall.
Master Eraqus had undoubtedly had his hands full with the two of them. At some point when Terra had realized how attractive he found Aqua, he suddenly required colder showers after sparring sessions. A disciplined approach helped, throwing himself into practice, into study, into making himself a worthy Keyblade Master.
For all the good that had done.
When they arrived at Aqua’s room, she settled on the edge of her bed, hands folded in her lap, looking pensive.
“What is it?”
Aqua seemed to resolve her reluctance, and asked, “When are you going to tell Ven you don’t want to spar with him?”
Terra cringed. “Is it that obvious?”
“To him? Apparently not.”
Terra couldn’t keep putting Ven off forever, but the thought of raising his keyblade against him, even in a faux battle, wasn’t something he could handle right now. In fact, he was a little surprised the keyblade still even came to his hand when he summoned it.
You’re not worthy. You’re going to freeze up when it counts. You’re a danger to your friends. You shouldn’t even have a keyblade. You’re a failure.
Terra angrily attempted to shove the nastier thoughts to the edges of his mind again, recognizing the fear giving them voice. He knew the truth that he could call the keyblade and he did save his friends and he had overcome in the end, but it didn’t make his recent struggles any less difficult. He felt frustrated.
“I’ll tell him when I have to, I guess,” Terra replied. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”
“He’ll understand,” said Aqua gently.
“He won’t. But he’ll try to.” His friends had to put up with so much from him.
“I’m trying to. But I know you’d never hurt him.”
Terra sputtered, “Never? Never? ” Shame coursed through him, and he paced the length of her carpet.
“Terra, it wasn’t you.”
“Believe me, I know that.” The words came out far too harshly, and he saw Aqua recoil.
He felt as though he’d misfired a shockingly powerful ice spell.
He fell to his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his and leaning forward to put his forehead against her knees.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out, voice cracking. “It’s just too hard.” Even he wasn’t sure whether he meant specifically about Ven or about his situation as a whole.
He felt her release one of his hands and then gently stroke his hair. This continued for a moment, calming, then she continued, “I guess until you can be a little kinder to yourself, Ven and I will make up for it.”
Terra felt this to be a kindness he didn’t deserve, but he recognized that was the very point Aqua was making. He raised his head, and the edges of his vision were a little blurry with unshed tears. “You’ve always been kind,” he said softly.
She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
He squeezed back. “Please don’t be sorry. It’s all just… beneath the surface. I’m trying. Maybe bringing it up is best. But only a little at a time, you know?”
“I know.” They were quiet for a moment, holding hands in the dim room, starlight twinkling on glass and crystal and outlining Aqua’s form.
“Do you want me to talk to Ven in the morning?” Aqua offered, voice soft.
“No, I can do it. But thank you. How about you, are you okay? Can you sleep?”
“I’m… okay. I’m tired. I can try.”
Aqua shifted back onto the bed, tucking her legs under her covers, curling on her side to face him. Terra shifted into a seated position, his side against the bed, elbow cushioned atop the blanket and head resting on his arm. He reached his free hand up to hold her hand again.
Aqua studied his face for a moment. “Terra?”
“Hm?”
“I love you.”
A gentle statement of fact as she rested comfortably, reaffirming truths they already knew through words and actions. Perhaps not romantic actions, or perhaps not yet, but their bond was already so deep in his very being that it had literally sustained him and saved him from the depths of darkness. It was too much to ask for her to do it again as he worked through the aftermath, but he knew she would support him without question.
And oh, what he wouldn’t give to undo the trials she’d been through, to ease her troubles, to remove the heaviness in her heart related to him and anything else bothering her. He’d quiet his demons and be there for her, to right wrongs and to fight darkness, for her and by her side, whenever he could. He’d comfort her when she was sad or afraid, but then to be there to see her happy, to smile and laugh, to learn, to help her overcome and achieve and succeed. Terra, somewhat overwhelmed, cradled her hand to his cheek.
“I know. I love you, too.”
Aqua smiled at him, the simple words sounding untold depths, and closed her eyes.