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“Ya know, if I didn’t know better I’d say you look nervous.”
A raspy chuckle followed Xigbar’s comment, and Saïx felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to prickle despite himself. Although he loathed to offer any physical response to Xigbar’s jabs, his ever-present frown deepened and he offered a disinterested sideways glance to the man at his side. “Luckily for us both, you do know better.”
The pair stood on the sidelines watching as Xehanort, their newest Master, stood in the center of the castle’s infirmary overlooking six beds. Upon them laid the lifeless forms of Vexen’s research— six faceless shells prepared and ready to receive the hearts of their companions, shriveled and weak though some of them may be, and all the memories which were held therein.
How long had it been, Saïx’s ever-curious mind wondered, since some of them had inhabited a body of their own? Vanitas’ heart had been trapped without form for over a decade, Xemnas’ for mere months. Ansem however, he mused with a glance to the leftmost bed, had never had a body to call his own. What would it be like for him, to be a Heart with a body for the first time?
“There is hardly anything to be nervous about. We all know our roles. We understand the plan. Anything that is to come is strictly business. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Xigbar snorted and gave Saïx a disbelieving look accompanied by one all-knowing raised eyebrow. “Oh sure, we all know the role you intend to play. Hey, do tell me if the big man’s packin’ the same with the new body will ya?”
Saïx’s eyes flashed a dangerous gold, and he nearly swiped that shit-eating grin from Xigbar’s face before he was stopped by a firm, inarguable voice.
“Silence both of your bickering.”
Saïx crossed his arms across his chest and watched as the elder Xehanort raised his hands and summoned forth the hearts of each of his six incarnations from where they had lain sleeping in the Realm of Darkness. Saïx wasn’t sure what he was expecting the hearts to look like, really, as they each manifested above one of the still and waiting vessels, but he supposed he thought their hearts would look the same as any of thousands he had seen before: soft, pink, glittering and full of life and memories and feelings that had been experienced before it had been ripped away.
The hearts of Ansem, Xemnas, Young Xehanort, Riku Replica, Vanitas, and the mysterious no. i were anything but the pure and innocent things Saïx had worked so hard to collect in an effort to complete their false Kingdom Hearts. They were dull, swirled with greys and blacks; some were missing pieces, fragments simply lost to the dark nothingness from which they came. They were small, they were atrophied, they were devoid of warmth. They were everything Xehanort had groomed them to be.
The sight of the wretched things sent a shiver down Saïx’s spine. Was that what his own heart looked like, as it slowly sprouted in his chest once more? Is that what it would continue to look like, were he to ever truly find his humanity once more?
“Ya sure you’re not nervous?” Xigbar quipped, insufferable smirk in place as always.
Saïx merely shot him a dirty look in response. By the time his attention returned to the beds, the six hearts were entering their respective replicas, and Saïx’s eyes went wide with surprise as each shell began to take its new shape. Upon later reflection, he wouldn’t be sure why he was shocked to find that everything went according to plan. In many ways, perhaps, he was hoping that the hearts would not take, that the fragments of Xehanort would not return. But just as quickly as the hearts and vessels united, each of their comrades returned and Saïx’s silent hopes shattered.
His feet moved of their own accord, walking immediately toward the bedside of his former Lord. In many ways, it was impossible not to. Their paths were too thoroughly intertwined, their fates forever bound to reach the same tragic end. Saïx had no doubt that, after everything they had been through together, he was destined to once more fall at Xemnas’ side. It was only natural, being the horrible things they both were.
“Ever loyal ‘til the end, huh?” Saïx heard a distant snort behind him as he approached the bed containing a newly-formed Xemnas, and he blinked slowly rather than rolling his eyes. There was no glory for Xigbar to find here.
Saïx was surprised, however, to first see movement from the corner of his eye rather than of his former Superior, and his attention wavered. Looking up, he saw Ansem shifting in his bed, a low groan leaving him as he slowly opened his eyes. But another sound snapped Saïx’s gaze back to attention and he looked down to find unusually golden eyes looking back up at him. Even Xemnas, though part of Xehanort as he had already been, had not seemed to have escaped his influence this time around.
“Should I be relieved or concerned to find you by my side once more, VII?” Xemnas’ voice, hoarse with fresh use, was grating in Saïx’s ears. But he remained dutifully impassive, closing his eyes and bowing his head downward in reverence.
“I am following my duty as always, Lord Xemnas.” Tilting his head up once more, he met Xemnas’ eyes as the reformed Nobody slowly sat up in his bed. “Although, the ranks have since shifted in your absence. Things have changed much since the time you ruled.” Saïx turned away from the infirmary beds to face Xehanort, who stood proudly in the center of the room as he watched the fractured pieces of his heart begin to stir. “What would you have me do, Master Xehanort, to assist our rank in acclimating to their new roles?”
The elder Xehanort turned to Saïx, his gaze firm as he looked between him and his strongest other selves, and he exhaled dismissively through his nose as he folded his arms behind his back. “Focus your energy on bringing those two back to their former strength. I am sure you will have little trouble with them, hm?”
Saïx held back a sneer at whatever implications may have lain within the old man’s words, and instead closed his eyes and took a breath as he turned to face the two beds containing Xemnas and Ansem. It was both curious and uncanny seeing them both sitting upright in bed, adorned in their standard-issue Organization coats with identical golden eyes locked firmly on him. He would be unable to put a word to the feeling if he were asked, but it did bring him a sense of unease. He sensed that there was more going on behind those eyes than the use of sight alone, but he hardly had the time for pondering then and there. As always, there was a job to be done, and it was never going to progress if Saïx did not have a hand in moving it forward.
“Come, my Lords. Allow me to show you both to your new lodgings.”
The sound of their footsteps echoed loudly in the endless white walls of the familiar castle as Saïx led Ansem and Xemnas to their rooms. The hair on the back of his neck bristled at the feeling of twin pairs of eyes watching his every movement, and he suspected that some unspoken conversation may be occurring between the two of them. Xemnas alluded, on more than one occasion, that he retained some connection to Ansem – his Other, the Heart to his Body – that occasionally their consciousnesses would intertwine, their vision overlap; their thoughts would become the others’, and all that they Were would be shared. To what extent, Saïx wondered, might that be occurring as they dutifully followed behind him. They offered no indication that conspiracies, savory or otherwise, were being passed between them as they traversed silently through the halls.
Saïx led them first to Ansem’s room, and he turned to face them both with an expression of professional stoicism and a generous bow. His ability to put on a performance was not remotely hindered by the way his heart had been thoughtlessly juggled about in the recent months. “Your lodgings, Lord Ansem. The best our Master has to offer for his Number Two.” As Saïx straightened he opened the door for his superior, and with downcast eyes he stepped aside to allow him entry.
It was not until he glanced up again that he saw the hints of a frown twitching at the corners of Xemnas’ lips. Something akin to sadistic pleasure spread outward from the spiteful thing in the center of Saïx’s chest, but he did not allow it to show. Instead, he slid his gaze slowly to the Heartless, and offered another small bow of his head. “I have been instructed by Master Xehanort to personally assist you both in acclimating to your new bodies and roles here within the Real Organization XIII. Do let me know if you need anything.” Golden eyes flicked up to meet Ansem’s, and he was not entirely surprised to see them already intensely focused on his face.
Contrary to his companion, Ansem openly wore a smirk directed toward his escort, and he offered a polite bow of his own as he stepped backward into his newly-bestowed room. “My thanks, Saïx.” He looked to Xemnas, an unreadable spark in his eyes that Saïx could not exactly parse, and offered him a parting nod as he closed the door. “Brother.”
The air around Xemnas was thick and tense, and as they continued down the hallway Saïx wondered, vaguely, what information passed between their gaze that was left only to Saïx’s interpretation. He had his suspicions, of course, but he had equal suspicion that whatever it was, he would learn in time.
Xemnas was as good at spilling secrets as he was at keeping them.
xXx
The following day was disturbingly familiar.
Saïx bade Xemnas a good morning and farewell and only allowed his reticence to fall away once the former-superior was properly out of sight. A knot of disgust wound itself tightly in the pit of his stomach as he made his way through the less-familiar halls from Xemnas’ new quarters.
Everything had changed, yet somehow nothing had changed at all. How exhaustingly apt for the Lord of Nothingness to ensure thorough stagnation in every aspect of his existence. He was hardly sure why he had expected the fledgling heart in Xemnas’ new body to mean anything to the man at all. If anything, he seemed more a shell of a man than he ever had— resigned, despondent, going through the motions of normality like some kind of wraith trapped within the never-ending cycle of the life it once lived.
He trudged his way to Xehanort, bowed diligently before his Master and wordlessly accepted his orders (mostly inane, as they always seemed to be), before he began his tasks for the day: check in with Xigbar, write a report, deliver said report to Xehanort, bring new orders to Xigbar, and then finally he was to spend the rest of his day assessing the status of numbers II and III to ensure they were adapting to their bodies well.
Xehanort hardly needed to know – or perhaps already knew – that Saïx had spent the evening with his former Superior, and he already knew quite well that Xemnas was “adapting” just fine. He was the same shell of a man he had always been, though that was likely of little interest to their new Master. The workings of Xemnas’ new heart, or any of their hearts for that matter, were of no importance. Xehanort cared only that his precious fragment was properly nestled where it was supposed to be, and that the vessels carrying each piece were strong enough to fight in his Keyblade War. Anything else that occurred leading up to then was simply gossip as far as Xehanort was concerned, and unimportant so long as it did not leave his vessels damaged.
Saïx so dearly hoped, as he walked through the empty halls toward the subject of his last mission for the evening, that such narrow-minded negligence would serve his own plans well.
He knocked on the grand white door emblazoned with a ‘II,’ and he reminisced, briefly, on how much things had changed in the few months since the Guardians of Light stormed The World that Never Was. His perception of Xemnas shattered into as many fragmented pieces as his false Kingdom Hearts when he fell to the keyblade and learned of Xehanort’s grand scheme.
Already-shaky trust was broken. Alliances shifted. But the plan, as it always had, remained the same. Saïx simply had to find a better avenue to get what he wanted this time around.
A strained permission of entry sounded through the heavy wood, breaking Saïx from his thoughts and sending him stepping forward into Ansem’s room. “Is something wrong, Lord Ansem?” He scanned his eyes around for some source of threat, but only found the Heartless lying on his bed, wearing naught but his trousers as he grasped at his abdomen and grimaced in discomfort.
“My heart… It is — ngh! — rejecting this Vessel.” Ansem turned to Saïx with his brow heavily furrowed and face glistening faintly with sweat. “I feel it… This pain, in the core of my being, it… Mnh… ” He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his back to Saïx as he curled in on himself, presumably preparing for his inevitable demise.
For a second stretching into eternity, Saïx once more experienced the feeling of a plan gone wrong; his entire plan relied on these replicas. Had they been tampered with? Had Vexen suspected something was wrong and rendered his remaining replicas inert? His concern came to an abrupt halt however, when he realized:
“Lord Ansem, forgive me if the question seems… foolish, but have you eaten today?”
After a beat of silence, Ansem looked over his shoulder with eyes equally puzzled and annoyed. “Of course not. I haven’t had the need for many years.”
… Ah. Saïx drew in a slow breath as he searched his brain for the most delicate way to explain to the Heartless that unfortunately, mealtimes cease being an optional activity when you are more than a formless consciousness trapped on an island or within the heart of a boy.
He kept his expression level as he spoke to him as gently as if speaking with a child. In many ways, his body was experiencing mere infancy, and he deserved some amount of guidance after being dragged against his will into this life once more. “It is my understanding that you have not had a true body for some time, so I can understand where your misconception has stemmed from. However, a body requires energy to function, so you must feed it, sir. Otherwise you experience hunger pangs. You have surely heard of them.”
Ansem appeared dumbfounded to say the least– his brow scrunched quizzically and his lips threatened to purse in sheepish confusion. He swung his legs off the bed and sat up. “I… do suppose I relied on Riku to handle such things before.”
“Tragically, you are responsible for handling these tasks when you are inhabiting a body of your own. Shall I prepare a meal for you?” Once more, Saïx had to withhold a roll of his eyes.
Sighing in resignation, Ansem stood and walked across the room to collect his coat from where it lay draped on the back of his desk chair, and turned to Saïx once more as he slipped his arms into his sleeves and fastened the leather shut. “No, I believe I can take care of this. Thank you, Saïx. I –”
A caught breath and words left unsaid hung uncomfortably in the air following Ansem’s words, and it was Saïx’s turn to give his superior an inquiring look. That glint from before was all too visible in Ansem’s eyes, and coupled with the quirk of the corner of his lips, it made Saïx shiver and take a step forward to question the man’s thoughts. Darkness enveloped Ansem before Saïx could get even a word out, and just as quickly as questions flooded the Berserker’s mind, Ansem was gone.
He allowed himself to frown freely in the absence of company, and he crossed his arms and tapped a finger against his bicep as he attempted to dissect the expression he had seen. Looking at Ansem was uncanny after spending so many years at Xemnas’ side. At first glance, their faces were indistinguishable — they would be the near-perfect mirror of the other as they were always designed to be, if Xemnas bothered to put a modicum of effort into his daily routine. The second they began to speak, however, the differences became all too clear.
Xemnas spoke slowly and methodically, choosing each word carefully — or at the very least offering the impression that he did so — as he proselytized about Hearts and Darkness and Nothingness and whatever else he thought might sway his underlings to follow him for just one more meaningless day. Xemnas was cold, careful, calculated; he was the pure embodiment of the utterly empty nothing they were — Saïx was — convinced they were supposed to be.
In contrast, Ansem’s voice was softer in tone yet far more impassioned. He did not speak hastily, no, but always seemed to speak his mind — to speak from the heart . Saïx wondered to what extent Ansem played this to his advantage, anticipating that those who interacted with him expected him to wear his heart openly and reveal more in his ample expressions than his Body ever would.
Perhaps Ansem was not conscious of it at all. What did any of them have to gain from masquerading this late in the game? Their cards had long since been dealt and their hands played, yet here they stood in defiance of all rules and better judgement for one final round– all or nothing, the stakes as high as they had ever been, and to the winner goes the spoils. But they, the hollow things they ultimately all were save for the piece of Xehanort himself they had been granted, were not destined to be the winners regardless of the way the cards fell. Should they succeed, they would surely be crushed beneath Xehanort’s will and cease to exist all the same. So why would Ansem bother deceiving his oh-so-loyal servant, now ? What could he possibly have to gain?
Saïx turned toward the door as he continued to reflect on expressive golden eyes and dark, curved lips, and he rolled his myriad questions around in his mind. What was Ansem’s plan? Was he truly aligned with Xehanort as they were all intended to be?
… What had he wanted to say?
xXx
The next time Saïx noticed something curious about the Heartless was mere days later, when his face appeared worn, his complexion pallid, his eyes sunken and heavy. It was of little surprise to Saïx what the problem was this time around.
“Lord Ansem.” He addressed the Heartless as he approached him in their common room – the Grey Area that Saïx once thoroughly commanded. “I cannot help but notice that you look…” Like shit. “...unwell.”
Ansem looked up to his visitor with dull eyes devoid of their usual playful curiosity and Saïx frowned. Something was indeed wrong with the Heartless once more, and again it would be his responsibility to take care of it. He is not sure how he fell quite so far from grace, demoted from the de-facto leader of Organization XIII to a mere babysitter for a grown man incapable of handling his own pseudo-humanity. Alas.
“I am… low on energy, yes… My body does not seem to be responding as it had been previously.” Ansem’s head lolled to the side as he tried to focus on Saïx, who openly rolled his eyes.
“Ansem, have you slept ?” Saïx could not keep the exasperation from his voice as he crossed his arms and shot the man a scolding frown. “Your body should have given in to exhaustion by now. Have you been forcing yourself to stay awake? You can’t possibly be serious.”
The Heartless shrugged and averted his gaze, distant eyes staring at the blank slate of ceiling above. “I thought it to be a waste of hours that might be spent planning.”
A lie lingered behind Ansem’s words, and it sparked further annoyance in the Berserker. As if he did not have enough meaningless tasks to address, he was now expected to explain the importance of sleep to a grown man? It would be laughable, were it not the reality he was currently presented with. He hoped Ansem’s ego was not fragile.
“A body requires sleep, sir. It is, tragically, not optional.” He moved before the Heartless and offered him a hand with a condescending gleam in his eye. “Shall I put you to bed?”
To his surprise, Ansem did not seem to take any offense, however. He simply appeared grateful as he took the offered hand and stood, looking down at Saïx from a now far-too-close proximity that tucked Saïx’s face right against his ample leather-clad chest. “That would be welcome.”
Saïx dropped the contact quickly and took a step back to put proper distance between the two of them, but the unexpected proximity already sent his mind into a rapid spiral.
Ansem raised an inquiring eyebrow and Saïx turned on his heel before his thoughts could be questioned. “Go, get comfortable. I will prepare you a drink to help you sleep.” Darkness enveloped him and he stepped out into the kitchen. Finding himself alone once more, he allowed himself a moment to sigh deeply and collect himself before he continued in his task of making Ansem’s tea.
He had not anticipated that monitoring the Heartless would come with so many conflicting thoughts and feelings. He had not anticipated that he would truly be so similar to the man with whom Saïx had been so closely intertwined all these years. He expected his task to be easy, to assist and pamper and serve as he always had, and after mere precious moments they would all be destroyed and that would be that.
But as it would seem, that was not the case. Instead, being around Ansem dredged up countless memories and pseudo-emotions that he once experienced by his Superior’s side. Namely, it was remarkable the way Ansem’s scent matched Xemnas’ almost identically. It was impossible to miss, with his face against Ansem’s tits the way he had been when the Heartless stood, and it sent such a rush of excitement over him that it nearly made him dizzy. It only made sense that they would be so similar, the two halves of one whole that they were, but every additional little similarity seemed to take him off guard all the same. While so close to Ansem, he couldn’t help but think of the hundreds of nights he’d spent in his Body’s bed, nestled close with that same scent washing over him as he was lulled into his nightly fitful sleep.
His was different, however. The scent of darkness was upon him, faint like day-old cologne upon his skin – he hardly would have caught it had he not been so close, but it was there on the edges of his senses, equal parts warning and comforting. A being of Darkness Ansem was indeed, more so than Xemnas and Saïx themselves, but any distinction to be found between Heart and Body brought a sense of relief. Their uncanny similarities did have their limits, it seemed, and for that Saïx was grateful, though he couldn’t place why.
Saïx felt relief as the sound of the kettle boiling pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. He quickly prepared Ansem’s tea, and once finished, he carefully made his way back down the many seemingly endless hallways to Ansem’s room. The extra time would do well for allowing the leaves to steep, and though he had not entirely tested it properly, he always felt as though their dark corridors spoiled the complexities of the tea.
Truthfully, he just wanted more time to collect his thoughts before facing Ansem again.
Approaching Ansem’s bedroom door, he knocked gently before entering. He found the Heartless upon his bed just as he had days prior, though as he laid there wearing only his loose black pants, he looked far worse for wear than he did even when he was starving. He was visibly in dire need of proper rest.
Ansem sat up as Saïx entered, and offered a grateful smile at the sight of the cup and saucer in Saïx’s hands. “Thank you, Saïx.” He sighed, surprisingly sincere gratitude in his voice as he reached for the tea and gently brought it close.
“Of course. It is as my duty requires.” Saïx responded dryly. His thoughts had gotten out of control, and being alone like this would not make anything easier at all. He needed to reconstruct that carefully built wall that he had allowed to crumble even before this life. His plan was already destined to fail, that much he knew for certain, but he refused to allow this Heartless to damn him any further than his Body already had.
Saïx collected the chair that seemed to have become the permanent home for Ansem’s discarded coat and moved it to the Heartless’ bedside. When he sat upon the leather-adorned chair his own coat stuck against the material in an unpleasant way that threatened to send a shudder down his spine. He mentally scowled and resisted the urge. Hardly a thing to get worked up about now.
He crossed his legs and perched his hands upon his knee as he watched Ansem sip carefully at the provided tea. Saïx expected him to frown at the floral notes, take only the smallest sip before politely setting the cup down upon the nightstand and electing for conversation rather than the beverage. Xemnas never cared for lavender, after all.
To his surprise, the tense weight Ansem had been holding in his shoulders seemed to melt away as he breathed in the steam rising from his cup and took a long drink. He sighed deeply as he brought the cup away, and his eyes were warm as he looked to Saïx, a small smile on his lips. “This is nice, Saïx. Thank you.”
Again, Saïx felt puzzled by the man sitting across from him, acting for all the worlds as his own person, his own entity. Saïx wholly expected him to be identical to Xemnas in every way, but interacting with him was anything but familiar. From their taste, to their mannerisms, to even their preferences they were certainly different. As much as they appeared to be twins, they were hardly the same.
And so he wondered, then, how deeply their differences ran, heart and body. Do their goals and desires truly align? Do they mirror the other, or is there something more lurking beneath the surface of them both?
“I’m glad you like it.” He watched as Ansem took another indulgent sip before indeed setting the cup down on his nightstand. “It is my preferred blend, when I find the nights entirely too long.” He turned his eyes to the window, facing the eternal night lacking even Kingdom Hearts to illuminate the sky. “Longer than usual, I suppose.”
Ansem chuckled, bringing Saïx’s attention back to him with a confused furrow of his brow. “If his memories serve me correctly, you have always worked far too hard, Saïx.” Blue brows knit closer together, and Ansem, with another soft rumble of laughter, continued. “Running about, doing his bidding, fighting for goals no one truly understood. You trust too blindly, Saïx.”
“You know nothing of my trust.” He did not snap – he hadn’t the emotional capability to allow his hackles to rise so quickly – but his confusion flipped to anger and his words were curt. “And you are bold to assume you know anything about me.”
“I know everything , Saïx. You needn’t act as though we are strangers.” His defenses were down, not even remotely concerned for the danger that could result by pressing the Berserker’s buttons, and it was patently clear in the way he drew his legs up from the side of the bed and laid down before staring up at the blank slate of ceiling above. “I would call myself his better half, however. Useless body of mine hasn’t the heart to appreciate what he has been given time and time again.” The shift of hair against cloth as Ansem turned to face the still-distrustful gaze aimed in his direction. He smirked, and Saïx’s frown deepened. “Coincidentally, I am his heart.”
“I suppose you think that makes you the expert on the matters of my thoughts and intentions.” Saïx had to resist the urge to sneer. He had little idea what this Heartless was getting at, but he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. There was plenty that he did not know about the inner workings of Xemnas, and he was content with things remaining that way. His mission would forever be easier knowing as little about Xemnas’s ‘feelings’ as possible.
“I suppose,” Ansem sighed and looked back to the ceiling once more as he crossed his arms across his chest and his legs at the ankle, “I believe I am the expert on the matters of Xemnas’s heart, yes. What he truly believed you were up to all those years, how he neglected to feel about it all. No matter, really. Not any more.” There was a long pause, the words simmering in the air before slowly dissipating and coaxing the tension in the air to evaporate right along with it. “We are not so different, you and I.”
The shift was sudden, and made Saïx blink in surprise. “I’m sorry?”
“Time moves differently in the Realm of Darkness, as I am sure you are aware. I have spent quite some time alone before I was returned here, into this body. It provided much time for reflection.” Ansem glanced briefly to Saïx, taking in his expression of confusion, before he looked away and continued. “My entire existence has been in the name of Xehanort’s plan. I have been following Riku, trying to sway him and mold him, the true keyblade master, to our cause ever since I was torn from Xehanort and abandoned on that island. It is disheartening, is it not? To have such a singular focused purpose, to ultimately only lead to failure.”
Saïx was surprised, to say the least, to hear such words come from the Heartless. He did understand. Everything he had been striving for ever since he snuck into Ansem the Wise’s castle all those years ago had yielded nothing at all. The girl was never found, his true purpose never resurfaced. The answers were still out there, but seemed increasingly out of reach with every failed venture. He wasn’t sure how to respond, wasn’t sure that his words would be steady if he did, so he simply nodded.
“I have wondered what awaits us all, at the end of the Keyblade War. Will we finally prevail? Perhaps, though the old man hardly has a record of success. It may simply be time to move on. Seek the next life, if we are destined to end in anything other than darkness.”
“Such treasonous words coming from the old man’s supposed Heart.” Saïx’s tone was critical, bordering on scathing. Were he to say such things it would undoubtedly be reported right back to Xehanort, he would be destroyed, squashed for daring to interfere with the grand plan.
… Right?
Ansem only shrugged and looked to Saïx once more. “Being left waiting on the sidelines for your dear Master to decide if you are useful has an interesting effect on one’s perception of things, does it not?” He smirked, and Saïx frowned. “I told you that we are not so different.”
“We are not the same.” Saïx countered once more, though he was unable to maintain the venom he wished to throw Ansem’s way. “I am and have continued to be nothing but useful to every iteration of the plan. I know my place.”
“And that place is at the foot of whomever throws you a bone?” Saïx scowled deeply, but before he could bite back a retort Ansem continued, “Apologies. That was uncalled for.” Ansem sat up slowly and reached for his tea. He took another long sip, allowing the tense silence to stretch as he savored the flavor once more. “You have always had a plan, that much we have always known. I look forward to seeing if you succeed this time around.”
“Did you have a point to your musings, Lord Ansem? You are beginning to sound much like your Body.” Saïx tapped his fingers impatiently, a habit he would never have exhibited in front of the less-empathetic half of Xehanort.
“My point being that in spite of all the plans we have all each had over these many years, our time is finally coming to an end one way or another. Perhaps there is some relief to be found there.”
They both went quiet for a moment, allowing the sentiment to hang in the air as they took in the weight of the truth. Their purpose as they knew it was coming to an end. Xehanort would win or he would lose, but either way, neither they nor any of the rest of the Real Organization XIII had any place in the worlds once it all came to an end. They would be destroyed, consumed for Xehanort’s plan. This was their fate all along. To have considered anything otherwise would be the case was foolish, really. They have all won, and in doing so, they have all failed.
“What do you propose, then, if everything leading up to the Keyblade War is meaningless?” Saïx sighed and leaned back in his borrowed chair, but jolted as felt the metal fastenings of Ansem’s discarded and forgotten coat pressed sharply between his shoulder blades like a dagger. It served as a pointed reminder: Xehanort could be listening in, if he cared to do so. They should watch what they say. He highly doubted the old man cared what any of them truly thought of his plans, however. They were entirely under his command, after all. What they felt about any of it was of no consequence at all.
“To start, I should attempt to get some sleep.” Ansem sighed, finished his tea, and laid back down upon his bed. He settled beneath his blankets and turned to look at Saïx, who appeared wholly unsatisfied with the conclusion of the conversation. “Feel free to stay. Your company is… comforting.”
Saïx was frustrated and had little to say, so he instead watched Ansem as his muscles slowly but finally relaxed, his breaths evened out and the lines of his face smoothed. Once again he found the expression on his face uncanny – succumbing to sleep, devoid of all expression, he was indeed a mirror image of the King of Nobodies with whom Saïx had spent the past decade. His shifting in bed had slowly dislodged some of his meticulously placed hairs, and as they fell and began to frame his face, their similarities became all the clearer.
It brought an uncomfortable wringing to Saïx’s chest and he frowned. How could the two of them, two halves of the one whole they were meant to be, be so fundamentally different? Was that truly the power of a heart? Had Saïx honestly forgotten that, after all this time?
He was not sure what exactly he expected upon finally meeting Ansem after spending so long with his counterpart. He supposed he envisioned a doppelgänger, a second tragically handsome man with a brilliant mind and an aptitude for producing long-winded speeches that amounted to nothing at all, though perhaps more heartfelt .
With his body relaxed and his hair mussed, he did indeed look the part of the twin brother Saïx assumed he would be. He had mentioned having Xemnas’ memories as well. Would Ansem be able to replace Xemnas, he wondered vaguely and settled further against the chair, ignoring the bite of metal into his spine once more, or would having a heart make that impossible? Xemnas did play the part of an empty emotionless thing quite well; would a man with the ability to experience true emotion have it within himself to offer such thorough apathy?
No, it was all too easy to see the ways they differed, and it was comforting to know that there were indeed not two Xemnases around. One was plenty, and Ansem made up for Xemnas’ shortcomings well, it seemed. He was, at the very least, more honest with himself.
Saïx was most grateful, however, that the man before him was certainly not the same man who lied to his face for ten straight years and then expected things to remain the same as they had been before the truth came to light.
Indeed, as the days and nights continued to pass them all by, Xemnas seemed not to understand that everything had changed. His stagnation no longer permeated everything he touched, he was no longer able to slow their demise with inaction and apathy, was no longer able to drag out the passage of time through endless tasks and missions and piles of paperwork. This world was no longer his domain, the story no longer his to write. Everything had changed. And yet, he had not.
And it was infuriating. Xemnas acted every evening as if he had not broken Saïx’s trust. No, he hadn’t the heart to feel pesky things like remorse and empathy, and was seemingly unable to fathom that Saïx had, in fact, regained some semblance of the heart Xemnas had promised. Xemnas himself, with his words and touches and meaningless nothings, was responsible for that feeble thing daring to make itself at home in Saïx’s chest, while at the same time Xemnas had kept it chained and starved lest it grow into anything more meaningful than a pathetic place for memories and cruel emotions to fester.
Saïx knew now what Xemnas had done, and Xemnas was an even greater fool than he was given credit for if he sincerely thought his betrayal meant nothing to his once-right-hand.
How easy it would be, Saïx thought as he drew his lips back to sneer at the sleeping man before him, to wrap his hands around his tan neck and squeeze. Claws would pierce flesh, and Xemnas’ own pitiful Heart would finally bleed for his ever-loyal servant.
It was what they both deserved, Body and Heart, to suffer at Saïx’s hands for everything they had put him through. Sure, Ansem had little direct influence on anything Xemnas had done, but inaction can be just as damning. If he truly knew everything, he could have stopped Xemnas from growing too close and toying with Saïx’s burgeoning emotions. Surely Ansem had seen that to which Xemnas had been so blind.
Killing him would do nothing but make the already messy situation even messier, however, and so instead of reaching for the Heartless, Saïx stood. He looked down his nose at the man who was not Xemnas, his former Superior and the man responsible for all the complicated feelings buzzing in his chest, and exhaled sharply, dismissively, before turning from the bed and walking for the door.
At the end of it all, Ansem was simply another pawn, just as the rest of them. His end was as equally inevitable and approaching just as rapidly as Saïx’s own– as Xemnas’ own. There was no need to speed up the process, when they were already all so close to the finale.
Saïx sighed and steeled himself to face Xemnas once more, and did not look back as he stepped out of the room and closed the door quietly behind him.
xXxXx
The following weeks passed quickly. Their remaining number were tracked down and converted to their cause once more. Thirteen Darknesses were prepared and waiting for their commands, and all that was left was to ensure the Seven Lights were, too, all accounted for.
Once more Saïx found himself with too much responsibility as he orchestrated Xehanort’s plans. He sent their members across the worlds to follow Sora, monitor his progress, and track down their reserve Princesses of Heart lest any of the heroes were to fail or fall prematurely.
All the while he, as he always did, had his own plans. It was all too clear, as he watched the Champion of Light prevail once more, that he had once more chosen the losing side. Luckily for him, this time he had already anticipated failure and had plotted accordingly.
Vexen and Demyx, his secret aids, were assisting him well from their place on the bench and everything was slowly coming together. Lea’s friends, his real friends, would finally return, light would prevail, and Saïx will have atoned for the mistakes of his past ten years.
The girl was gone, that much had become clear. The least he could do to make up for his failures was to improve the life of his former friend, even a little. Even if Lea ultimately wouldn’t know — couldn’t know — Saïx had a hand in making it happen.
He maintained his façade in front of the others. It was easy enough to accomplish— they all looked like hell these days. He supposed their impending doom was wearing them all down, at least a little. Even Xemnas had withdrawn, distant as he had already been, and Saïx was spending more nights alone than he ever had. While it made time drag by all the slower, at least it offered Saïx more time for sincere reflection. He’d yet to have decided whether that was a good or a bad thing.
Saïx considered, as he walked the barren halls, how much time they likely had left before the Keyblade War. Not much, he suspected. And so, he made his way to Ansem’s room once more. Just because Xemnas had decided to abandon him in their final hours didn’t mean he had to spend them alone. He had… some questions for Ansem, anyway.
He knocked on the Heartless’ door, three swift raps against wood as was his signature, and after only a moment he was invited inside. Entering, Saïx found Ansem silhouetted against the grand window on the far side of his room and staring out into the endless inky night.
“How are you faring this evening, Lord Ansem?” His footsteps seemed too loud as he stepped toward Ansem; the man was unusually quiet, and Saïx found himself frowning as he approached. “… Sir?”
Looking up, he found Ansem’s expression sullen and his eyes hollow — it was the same face he’d seen on Xemnas the final evening they had spent together before they met oblivion at the hand of the Keyblade, the same face he’d seen in the mirror that very morning.
“What was it like here, when Kingdom Hearts shone bright over this world?” Ansem asked with a voice soft and full of reverence as his eyes scanned the empty sky.
Saïx, taken off guard by the question, paused his steps toward the man as he rolled the words and the tone with which they were said around in his mind. Unwilling to lay his thoughts bare so easily, he stepped in line with Ansem and looked through the glass at the barren sky, searching alongside the Heartless for that which was not there. “Your shared memories should provide sufficient answers. Do they not?”
Eyes, intense and curious and so unusually full of emotion burned their sights into Saïx, and he only just managed not to turn to meet the gaze. It was too sincere on such a face, and impossible for him to behold. Not yet.
“I know how my Other felt when he gazed upon the falsehoods he inflicted upon you, yes.” Ansem sighed, the sound forlorn. “I have only seen it through his eyes, and your connection was always more special. Humor me.”
Saïx locked his eyes on the place in the sky where Kingdom Hearts, his Kingdom Hearts, once hung silently above them all. “… It was indescribable. Although I know now it was not the true Kingdom Hearts, it was still manufactured with hearts and all the power within them. It was the only source of life and warmth in this world. It feels appropriate that we remain here suffering her absence while she has been allowed to die gracefully.”
Ansem nodded, and turned to face Saïx fully. “How does that make you feel?”
“I feel nothing at all, sir.” Saïx locked eyes with his superior, his body still facing the window, and he could sense Ansem’s disappointment as much as he could see it in his eyes.
“You only say that because you have been trained to.”
“I say it because it is true.” Saïx narrowed his eyes, daring Ansem to protest, and once it was clear that he had no intention to, Saïx continued. “We are here once more for one sole purpose. What I feel is of no consequence and hardly worth my time. If my heart looks even a fraction as wretched as Xemnas’, I am sure there is little room left inside for the pity our fallen Kingdom Hearts deserves.”
Again, Ansem sighed. “I see.” The resignation in his voice was clear as he turned away and walked toward his bed. “Perhaps there is room for something else, if not pity.” He glanced over his shoulder, meeting Saïx’s eye only briefly before shedding his coat and tossing it over the back of his desk chair.
Saïx watched, lips pursed in the threat of a pout as Ansem drew his blankets back and slid into bed beneath them. Although he was uncertain of what the Heartless had in mind, Saïx felt compelled to follow behind him.
“There is something I have seen in my Other’s memory.” Ansem’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, and while he held Saïx gaze there was a sense of uncertainty, perhaps even nervousness there. ”Something I would like to experience. Would you indulge me?” Slowly, Ansem shifted and pulled the covers back, opening up and offering a spot in his bed by his side.
Saïx froze. He was hardly surprised to be propositioned by Xemnas’ other half, he supposed it only natural after everything the Heartless claimed to have known and seen, but at face value it struck him quite unexpectedly. Did he want this? Did he intend to succumb to the desires of a wayward heart allowed to run rampant on its own?
Ansem must have sensed the reluctance and he answered Saïx’s thoughts with a shake of his head. “I want your company. Nothing more.”
After only another moment’s hesitation, Saïx nodded his consent and, albeit slowly, unfastened his coat, methodically folded it, and set it on Ansem’s nightstand before he laid in the proffered spot in bed. His body stiffened when the Heartless began to softly chuckle, even as he pulled the blanket over them both.
“Apologies. Seeing your meticulous nature strikes differently in person, than through Xemnas’ memory.” Slowly, Ansem settled into the mattress once more, facing Saïx’s back. “Whereas my Other found it a waste of time, I see your diligence. It’s… cute.”
“Tch.” Saïx huffed as he rested against the pillow, frowning at the wall across the room in favor of turning to face the Heartless. Turning would reveal the rising blush on his cheeks, after all. “I have little interest in what you find cute , sir.”
“Hmph. Of course.” Another chuckle followed, and slowly Saïx felt the weight of an arm around his middle— distinctly above the blankets. How courteous.
”I hope my presence in bed is everything your memory served it to be.” He commented dryly, trying not to think of how many other positions and states of undress Saïx may exist within Ansem’s memory. “As you may recall, I have never been fond of cuddling.”
“As I recall, that is not entirely true.” Ansem shifted closer, Saïx tensed once more, but when he settled heavily with seemingly no intention to move further, Saïx slowly relaxed. “You often found yourself close to my Other when you thought he was sleeping. You have always sought the feeling of connection, have you not?”
“Did you ask me here to psychoanalyze me, Lord Ansem? If so, I have little interest and my time would be better served elsewhere.”
“Always so defensive.” Ansem sighed, and the weight shifted as he removed his arm and rolled onto his back, away from Saïx and offering him the freedom to leave, should he choose. “No, I asked you here because admittedly, I have had trouble sleeping alone. I had never before experienced nightmares — I had in fact been the nightmare while I inhabited Riku’s heart — but now, as I’ve lain awake these countless nights, I’ve found the darkness more a foe rather than friend.”
An admission. A source of weakness, offered openly and without hesitation. Saïx was not held, was not trapped, and was in fact nearly invited to be on his way, if he had no interest in staying. And still, Ansem, surprising Saïx once more, bared his heart to him and allowed himself to be wholly seen.
Was this some kind of a game? Saïx could not help but wonder if he was being played for a gullible fool. The unstable emotions in his fledgling heart might have been easy enough to manipulate were he a less wise man, but unwise he was not, and he intended to keep them tucked close and safe away from selfish Xehanorts and their grandiose plans destined to take everyone else down with them.
“... I hoped,” Ansem continued when Saïx remained wordlessly still, “perhaps your company would keep the shadows at bay.”
Saïx turned then to look at the Heartless, who made no motion to reach for him again in return. “What makes you think I hold any expertise in warding off shadows?”
Ansem shrugged, and when he turned to look at Saïx again his eyes held a warmth that Saïx had never seen on that otherwise familiar face. “My Body hadn’t had the heart to appreciate what he had been given time and time again. It’s a shame that you were the one who had to suffer at the hand of his shortcomings.” He shifted further until they were face to face, but he kept a space between them lest he risk spooking the fragile thing he had carefully coaxed so close. “The best nights’ sleep he ever received were with you by his side, you know. That insufferable Body of mine never would admit such a thing; he would never admit attachment to anything. I think that is what you wanted, though. To be wanted . ”
Saïx again was silent. The Heartless was inching too close, both to him and to the truth. But was he angry? Was he upset, to finally be seen through and perhaps even understood? He hadn’t considered the dangers of dancing with a devil like Ansem, one who supposedly held all the memories of the past ten years and had the emotional capability to sift through whatever connection might have been slowly growing throughout them, whether it had been one-sided or otherwise.
Finally, he settled his expression on a frown. “Why are you telling me any of this?” He can hardly imagine any sort of benefit to come to Ansem for revealing such vulnerability in them both. Were he wise, he would run away from him, this bed, this conversation, and live out the last few weeks they had to their names in denial that he had any longing for anything beyond his own plan. Something made him stay, though. Perhaps it was simply the startling sincerity he saw on features he never expected to show any emotion at all.
“I suspect we do not have much time left.” Ansem sighed, resignation making his voice heavy and tired. “I have suffered enough deceit and betrayal to last a dozen lifetimes. I see little reason to lie to myself or anyone else in these last moments of our meagre existence.” Slowly, he reached his arm around Saïx once more, and Saïx allowed the contact without protest. The warmth alone was welcome, and the sentiment comforting. “Besides, this has been my only chance to properly feel, physically , for myself. I don’t want to waste my final moments with mind games and wordplay.”
“Speak plainly then, Ansem.” Saïx’s frown curled into the hints of a sneer; his patience with talking in circles was rapidly waning. “Have I not suffered through enough of Xemnas’ long-winded ramblings?”
Ansem chuckled, the sound rich and warm and so sincere. “There is one thing,” He rumbled softly while inching his body closer, his warm fingertips delicately sliding up Saïx’s side to brush errant blue strands behind the sharp curve of his ear, “One aspect of humanity, that is, that I have not yet had the opportunity to experience.”
Saïx did not blink or move, but he narrowed his eyes once more. He recognized the look in those golden eyes, had seen it on this face many hundreds of times over the past decade, but the emotion he saw there was… new. Unfamiliar. He wondered what the Heartless wanted, what his own goal was in all the games he was playing. Saïx raised an eyebrow and feigned disinterest. “How may I assist you once more, Lord Ansem?”
Warm, dark fingertips trailed softly along the curve of Saïx’s jaw, exploring and tender in their touch. Ansem was immensely focused, his breathing quiet as he took in every little reaction his proximity elicited from the other man. He was like a child who had yearned to touch his father’s most prized possession for years, and once finally offered the opportunity he was beside himself with excitement, touching softly, inspecting closely, savoring every second of the precious moment that was finally offered to him after so impossibly long.
Slowly, so slowly, Ansem leaned closer, but it was Saïx who closed the space between them. At first, it was tense: Saïx expecting the same cold, detached pseudo-affection that he had always received, and Ansem surprised that the Nobody had initiated their contact. After a moment however, it was Ansem who relaxed and shifted his weight to lean closer into his bedmate.
While Saïx had anticipated Ansem to be more enthusiastic than his usual lover, he definitely hadn’t expected the subtle quirk of Ansem’s lips as they pressed more firmly against his own, the way his body anxiously moved to touch and feel through the underclothes they both wore. Saïx couldn’t help but mirror him, reaching up with well-practiced hands to slide up Ansem’s arms and grip firmly at the bare muscle there.
Kissing Ansem was also unfamiliar, even though he wore a face with whom Saïx was all-too-well acquainted. His movements were anxious, they were excited. He touched Saïx as if he had dreamed of doing so a thousand times in a thousand different distant and unreachable memories. Upon further consideration, he had done just that, in fact. He had yearned for him in the furthest reaches of Xemnas’ mind. He, the purest Heart Xemnas had ever had, craved Saïx in ways his Body never could.
And he was here, finally touching, finally kissing, finally feeling for himself the way his Body had monopolized all those many years.
Saïx’s overwhelming need sent a shiver down his spine and he moaned into the kiss, wanton and full of his rapidly igniting lust. It was impossible to deny how good it felt to be pressed against him, to feel the genuine intimacy that Xemnas had denied them both for so long. They hadn’t much time left, that was indeed true, and Ansem deserved to be at his best for their imminent final battle. Gentle pawing at Ansem’s body turned to desperate grasping as Saïx melted into him and invited him closer.
Distantly Saïx’s body faintly and finally registered the crucial differences between Ansem and his Other — the way hands grasped at his hips as if they were the only thing keeping them tethered, the heavy pressure of his fingers on the backs of Saïx’s thighs, but most notably the tense and barely restrained desperation of a man starved and taunted and denied, only to be finally offered a gourmet meal.
Ansem hungered for him in ways Xemnas never could, his passion coming from the heart rather than manufactured from the memories of a body that had hardly felt such sensations at all. Unlike Xemnas, Ansem had a heart capable of feeling true desire, a truth made ever clearer through every touch; every caress was more sincere than the last.
The contrast was so vast that Saïx couldn’t hold back the soft chuckle that escaped him. He pressed against Ansem more firmly, pushing him onto his back and following the momentum to straddle the Heartless and look down at him with an expression more playful than Saïx could ever remember offering Xemnas in the last several years. If Ansem, the Heart of Xehanort, could spend so many years experiencing so much pain and anger and still find it within himself to experience bodily pleasures, Saïx reasoned to himself as he curved his body over Ansem’s and captured plush lips in a sharp tugging bite, then why should he waste his own moments with a Heart agonizing over what was to come?
Saïx’s heart was broken and damaged, just as Ansem’s and Xemnas’ and all the rest of Xehanort’s mindless vessels were, but there was still time to make things right, to feel what was worth feeling – physical, emotional, or otherwise. If their plans were all destined to fail and their bodies destined to fade into nothing once more, a little indulgence was definitely in order. And besides…
“There is one more thing I think this body of yours should experience.” Saïx offered a sharp, fanged smirk before brushing his lips against Ansem’s once more. “Don’t you agree?”