The Princess in Her Crown of Chains

♙✾♖✾♙

 

The Castle observes a choice: the false over the real. It knows this choice is made because it is truth. The false is the real; it is experienced as real, felt as real, known as real. The Castle observes this, all while observing those hearts within it. It observes the heart of its most beloved; not the one it protects, which is the sleeping boy, but the one it adores, which is the girl made of ocean mist. It sees what she desires. It sees that it shares her desires.

To find is to lose [find the knight, lose the key] and to lose is to find [lose the knight, find the princess].

That is the way of Castle Oblivion.

 

♚✬❃✩♚

 

There's a girl standing on a beach, red hair caught in a breeze. She laughs. The ocean loves her with its gentle tide, the land loves her with its clinging sand, and the sky loves her with its sunset kisses.

Sora watches, and so does the mist. She creeps in through his eyes; airy, heavy with empty, obscuring even as she shares his sight. She cannot help it. She must reach out. She loves her too, after all.

 

♚✩♕✩♚

 

How unfortunate, that the Castle knew her so well.

They weren't friends, of course, but sometimes one did not need friendship to be intimately bound to another. She could feel, in her core, that they were both strange reflections of a more desirable form, and while much of the Castle's 'magic' was hers, it was not without its own abilities. They were complimentary. They understood each other in ways no other could.

It longed to keep something—someone—safe, and she longed for...

"Are we lost, Naminé?"

"We're not lost." It wasn't a lie; trapped and lost were two different things. "I can get us out." She doubted it. All that time spent longing to be rescued, to escape, and now the Castle itself denied her.

Of course. It knew her too well.

Sora, unknowing, smiled at her, and she smiled with him. His blue eyes crinkled, carried memories of the sea. She should have been grateful. He chose her. He chose her. He'd had a real life, with real memories, with real friends and real loves and real experiences in a real world, and he gave them all up for her. In staying by her side, he had become her knight, and since he was a real knight, his choosing made her a real princess.

And yet, as he bounced about the room in high spirits, talking, laughing, still so hopeful, still so trusting, all she could think about was how, with a little effort, brown could fade in shade and brighten in vibrancy to become a most appealing red.

 

♚✩❃✩♚

 

There's a girl sitting on the sand. She is obscured, just slightly, from the boy's sight. He's playing with the other boy; the real or the replica, it doesn't much matter. Both are tangled in his memories now, two becoming one, becoming two, becoming one.

By the girl, another sits. This one the boy can see; she's made sure of it. She draws in lines of colored pencil and pastel smears, while at her side the other girl watches the boys play with such painful longing. The boys will let her join them, of course, but she suffers such a contradiction. She is a girl, and has worked hard to be one, as they have worked hard to be boys, and while between them there would be no judgment, there are other more distant eyes that might disapprove.

A third girl, brunette and dressed in sunshine yellow, plays further down the beach with the other two boys; rough games, soft games, merciless games. They suffer their own contradictions, overlapping, not quite distinct, and yet there are still differences.

Sometimes, one's hard work to be true demands new falsehoods. The weight of expectation hangs heavy, in head and heart.

The mist finds her contradictions fascinating.

At other times, the girl is very happy. It is fun to watch; the mist knows this well. There is an intimacy in the sifting through of visions, selecting which to give the gift of gaze, of sight.

The boy is lovely. The other boy is lovely too. But the mist finds herself wrapping around the girl she sits beside. Her sadness and her smile are too powerful to remain locked away in memories, beyond her comfort and her touch.

I want her here, with me. Of that, the mist is sure.

 

♚ミ✬♕✬彡♚

 

They'd lost the others in the chaos of battle. Sora's companions and the false Riku had been trapped in one room, Sora and Naminé in another. None had been left to die then, no, but that did not mean death did not find them; one of them, at least. She had felt it echo through the Castle, had felt badly for him. He was a sad creature, that replica. He, like her, was a lesser thing. Hurting him had hurt her. Whatever he was, he hadn't deserved that.

But though Sora had chosen her, chosen them, the replica had been dissatisfied. She had not been surprised. For all his promises and proclamations, he was a doll, and he knew he was a doll. Even Sora, with his chain of altered memories, could not understand what it meant to be a doll and know you were one. It was something that only tools and toys could comprehend. A human might be objectified, but a replica was an object, and were there truly any people, or any philosophy, even, that would protect an object—even one that could feel?

No, Sora could not understand. But she could, which was why the knowledge the replica had perished did not bring her to tears. It had hurt to hurt him, but she could only see his passing as a mercy. The other, the real Riku, would continue on, and the false could be laid to rest.

But is it so bad to want to be made real? To love the false so much you make it real?

Sora had chosen to make his memories of Naminé, with Naminé, real, after all. Perhaps, then, she would mourn the replica a little. He could have made something real, or been made real, if only he had embraced his own falsehood.

"Man, this place is a maze!"

They had managed to reach another room with her magic, one that was a little more comfortable than the last. Most of the rooms they had encountered retained the stark white and floral features of Marluxia's reign over Castle Oblivion; an unusual thing, when he had perished some time ago. It left her feeling watched, and more than watched, aware. 

Who really holds the keys?

Quiet.

But this new room, while it still bore the pale marble and pedestals of its previous occupants, now adorned itself in little pieces of Sora. Its terraced layers were homes to the occasional hanging tree, palm and paopu, as well as an assortment of tropical brush, creeping vines, and vivid flowers. There was even fruit. At the bottom of the room, smooth tile had been replaced with sand, kissed by an illusionary tide that crept 'in' through an image of the ocean and 'out' again into the wall.

There was a crunch under her feet. She glanced down. The sand seemed to have gotten everywhere already, damp in some places and coarse in others. Warm, mostly.

"Marluxia didn't really know that much about Castle Oblivion," she said. "None of them really understood it."

"Do you?" Sora asked, climbing onto a tree trunk in order to survey the room.

Yes. "No. But this seems like it would be a nice place to take a rest."

It was. Though the tide at the bottom of the room was mostly shallow salt and illusion, one of the flowering vases along the upper walls streamed fresh water in a fountain, and those fruiting trees were bright and beautiful. Naminé did not need to eat, but Sora did, and she was happy to pretend while keeping him company. She took a spot on the floor, a little half-circle of seaside bushes behind her and a tree above offering shade. The stark light of Castle Oblivion had shifted to that of a tropical summer; Sora didn't seem to notice, acted as if it had always been this way. That made her smile.

He jumped off his tree and came to join her, diverting briefly from this task to gather a selection of fruit. Once done, he dropped down onto the blanket with a smile and an armful of color.

It too had always been there for him, she was sure. It was quite comfortable.

"Well, it could definitely be worse," he said. "We're lucky we've got these. We could've got those wild greens, you remember them? The really bitter ones? Well, I suppose you wouldn't 'remember', you weren't there, but you'd know, right?"

Something stung. She dismissed it. "Yes, I'd know. You and Riku and"—she set a bright red fruit to her lips, not so far from the color of Sora's hair, just to give herself a moment to think—"your other friends, you played a game with them."

Sora stuck out his tongue, didn't notice her blunder. "Yeah. We challenged each other to see who could eat the most and had to do what the winner said for the rest of the day. Glad we grew up a bit." He smiled. "Fruit is the best; desserts are too sweet and leaves are too bitter, but fruit's just right."

She smiled. His energy was endearing, vibrant, bountiful, shared freely, and the fact that his grin only grew in response to her own—to her—made her want to just eat him up. At the same time, she felt guilty. She was guilty, because for all his affection and attention, she was more drawn to the shadow behind her that he was seeing than to the thought of him and her.

But you would understand, wouldn't you, Sora? Even after choosing me, a part of your heart still calls to her.

They ate, or rather, she pretended to eat and then passed her fruit along to Sora, who took it without comment and actually ate.

"Do you remember playing together?" Sora asked, after a while. His eyes were down on the sand of the illusionary shore. "Riku and I, we'd fight with our swords, race. Sometimes we'd play chase and you'd join in, although mostly you just liked to watch—and draw." He added the last belatedly.

A thought, whispering. "You didn't play that much, Sora."

He blinked. "I didn't? No, I did. I played all the time!"

Naminé shook her head. "You did play a little." She played a little too. "But you spent most of your time sitting." With me, she didn't add, but that was the feeling she pushed.

Another blink, another. Then Sora frowned. "Are you—Naminé, are you playing with me?"

Never. "You know about my powers, Sora, about me." The sadness in her eyes was real, at least. "Don't you think you would notice if I was doing something?" You haven't. "Why would I do anything to hurt you, Sora?"

He looked ashamed. She wasn't even being dishonest. I won't do anything to hurt you. I just need you to be someone else, for a while. You can do that for me, can't you?

The unending maze of Castle Oblivion bore down on her mind. She did not want to think about what its design reflected of her own desires. For a while, she repeated. For a while.

The Castle said nothing, thought nothing, pushed nothing. It did not need to.

"Yeah, I guess...I would notice, huh? It's not like you can go around behind my back anymore, what with you telling me about it." He did not bring up that she had been able to change, and then continue to change, the replica, despite the fact that he had known about her powers initially. The idea did not seem to be present in his head. "And it's not like you'd want to. You're too nice for that."

Oh, Sora. "You're too sweet. But you would notice," she said. He had, after all. "People think you're silly, but you're actually rather smart, Sora. And your heart sees so much." That wasn't a lie either. Telling the truth was rather easy. But then again, so was lying. "So you do remember sitting with me?"

"Yeah. I...I do. It was..." His forehead wrinkled. "I remember I liked to play with Riku because it was a way to feel like...like a boy. He was always better at it than me, I thought, but being with him still felt good. It was a competition. It was fun." His frown deepened. "But I also liked to sit with you because it made me feel..." Naminé plucked away her feelings, just for the moment. "...I guess it just made me feel close to you."

It did. She remembered them sitting side by side—she and Sora had, plenty of times—getting close. He'd watched the third girl and her do it too, giggling in their girlish way, pressing their bodies together. Such a performance. There was love, but it really was as much a show.

Which was useful, for her purposes. Naminé leaned a little toward Sora, and Sora leaned a little toward her. "We would sit like this," he said, "and you would show me your drawings, and I'd show you what I'd made. My crafts, just things I'd picked up from the shore and tied together, but you always liked them..."

Sora trailed off. When he smiled, it wasn't quite his own. It was beautiful, though. It was what she had been wishing for.

"Did you like it?" She asked. "Sitting with me?"

"Yeah!" Sora exclaimed.

She bit her lip to suppress a smile, felt it falter as she took him in. His hair was lovely, but really didn't suit his current clothes. There was too much red, awkward primaries making a mockery of its pretty hue. "Your play outfit..."

"My...play outfit?" He tilted his head.

"When you left the Islands you were wearing your play outfit. You wore it when you were sailing, and also when you were fighting. You've been stuck fighting this whole time, to get back to your friends. You haven't had a chance to change." She raised a hand, brushed his hair into—out of—his eyes. "Doesn't it look strange?"

"Yeah..." He reached up to touch his own fringe, twirled it between his fingers. Then he glanced down at his clothes. "It does look a bit off."

Naminé shivered, a sweet thrill running up her spine. "I could make you something more appropriate, maybe. My powers can shift things, change their shape a little. I could look through your memories, fetch your other outfit."

"I'd appreciate that," he said. "Thanks, Naminé."

So she leaned over and laid a hand on his chest, over his pendant, over his heart. She did nothing else. Her words were her fingers, gently realigning as she spoke. Still, the performance was crucial; the hand grounded while the mind worked. It was important to make this easier on him, both now and in the future. They were going to be in Castle Oblivion awhile, so what she did now was a kindness. It would not do to be a restless boy, a knight without a purpose.

This was kindness.

The performance is crucial.

Subtle shifts of the body were nigh unnoticeable beneath the unweaving of the memory of the one fabric and the stitching of the other. She drew from the pattern stored in his mind, sewed all the pieces from that intimate part. The only thing she left unchanged was the chain around his neck, the one still cold under her hand, the one with a broken link of memory hidden inside. It left her unsure, uncertain.

A moment of doubt, perhaps. Maybe her affection for him was winning out. It really was so hard to choose.

Still, when she pulled back she did not regret her choices. She took them in, properly adorned for the first time. "There you go..." She hesitated. "Sora."

They smiled, gave a girlish giggle. Naminé sighed her relief and leaned her head against their shoulder.

Yes, this outfit suited them much better indeed.

 

♚✩❃✩♚

 

There's a girl at the mayor's house, sitting in bed with a dazed look on her face. Her blue eyes are wide and blinking, a little overwhelmed, fingers clutching at the sheets as two boys approach. One pounces on the end of the bed, while the other stands at its side. She stares at them, looking so sweet despite her nerves. But she is a brave girl, and she summons a smile against the odds—amnesia, a loss of home, of family, a flower torn from her garden—and says, "Hello. Who're you?"

"I'm —!" The boy on the bed exclaims.

"—," the other says, more softly.

The mist is also on the bed. She is leaning closer, closer, as the boy on the bed bounces forward before coming to a stop in front of the girl. He slaps the blankets with both hands, so excited to make a new friend. It puts a sparkle in her eye, eases her fear. "What's your name?" He asks.

"Me?" Her grin is luminous. "I'm —!"

The boy can't remember, but the mist won't forget.

 

♚ミ✬♕✬彡♚

 

It wasn't that she didn't love Sora. She did. Even beyond his choosing of her, he was so very full of light and air. He was the wonder of the sky beyond the cage, the promise of a new life, a new world, full of so much opportunity—too much opportunity. He was buoyant and beautiful. He was a protector of worlds, a friend to so many, connected to countless lives across the vast darkness between. He was a flame to ward off shadow, a precious warmth. He was funny, cute, clever in his way, but silly too. There was even a sweet sort of sadness in his eyes, if one took the time to look, and pick, and pluck through his memories. It meant everything to have him look at her as a golden charm herself; not a secondary silver or some other base thing. Even if he hadn't, though, he would have remained a knight to her.

So she did love him. She really, truly did.

But bodies are few in Castle Oblivion, and it was not being generous with the one it still contained. There was another form hidden within, she knew, but no matter how much she thought of them, the Castle remained silent, uninclined to share. Every door she opened, every room she explored, revealed nothing.

So she had to choose. She could have her knight, or she could have the princess. One was her hero, one her other half. If she could have both, she would. But the Castle had also disallowed her exit, had closed itself around her like the ocean around an island, prevented her from crossing that sea of stars with Sora by her side. They would have clung to the backs of meteors, she thought, and fallen in a shower. Then they would all have been reunited, and she could have had them both.

Surely, they would love her as much as she loved them. Surely. Their hands would hold hers, she knew.

She felt the Castle's weight on her back. If it could laugh, it would.

At least they were safe, for now, in a place where she had some control. She had to be grateful for that. Sora's friends had vanished, as had the other members of the Organization, as had Riku and the various men and singular mouse who stalked him. What was left was only peaceful dreaming. Lucid dreaming, even, where she could see that what was best was guaranteed.

Their union gave me this power, she thought, remembering her creation with a faint heat in cold cheeks. It was one of the few things that could make her truly flushed. It must have been for a reason. Surely it would not be so terrible to use it for myself.

Surely it would not be so terrible to use it for her. Because if Sora was beautiful, then she was something else entirely. There was a wretchedness to her; thrown from home with nothing more than the water's prayer to carry her to safer shores, an aching sort of loneliness that followed as she clung to whatever sweet sand her scrabbling fingers could find. There was a mystery, too, in how after everything, after losing all she had, she could retain such a pure light. She adorned herself in its judgment, embraced its occasional envy, summoned its fire to offer comfort, its sunsets for wistful promises, and its stars to gather about her in absurd hopefulness, even as the world tore her from her friends once more. She wore it in a state of uncanny bliss and belief, dressed others in a love that transformed. She was trapped, in her role, her body, her self, and yet, somehow, she was free. She was a contradiction. She was a princess.

And Naminé wanted her.

"You okay, Naminé?"

She glanced toward Sora; her Sora, lying beside her on a blanket. Their red hair drooped at the ends, had begun to fall in a manner more appropriate for her imaginings. It suited their outfit, their purple skirt and white tank top, the bangles about their wrist, the band on their upper arm. Their crown still hung about their neck, silver chain a bright accompaniment to their choker.

"I'm okay," she said. "Just thinking."

"Of a way out?"

"Hm." It was neither yes nor no, but Sora would hear what they wanted to hear. They were in high spirits, perpetually hopeful. They shared that with her. It was nice, and made things easier. They questioned little, or rather, they expected little from the answers to the questions they did ask.

Naminé had led them through several more rooms, including the occasional dark ones best suited for sleeping, and there they had lain together, as they laid together now, and watched the stars wheel overhead. Sometimes, Sora recognized them. Naminé always did.

Now and then, when they were like that, finger tips brushing, Naminé would push, gently, the idea of girl. Of being a girl, of her, of embracing that role. It was still difficult, with Sora. If he were Riku, it might have been worse. But in the end, Sora was not a girl, and he and Riku had resisted it together, as she had resisted boy.

But Sora's heart, in its high spirits, its hopefulness, its questions now so easy to answer, was accepting. 

Unstable. 

Accepting.

The Castle offered no rejoinder, as it knew she knew it did not need to.

But Sora's heart was growing more accepting. With every little push, it became a little easier. They just needed to let go of Sora, and then, maybe, they could let go of boy. Them seemed tolerable. For some, even for her, perhaps, it could have been something powerful; a destabilizing sought, a rope found, a home, a temporary shelter, a whirlwind of delight, an ambiguity, an agony, an act of violence, or even something much simpler; not ecstasy, not grief, but an absence of pain. But for Sora, she found they was the gentle push, the soft attack, the tool—weapon—she must wield. Them was tolerable for their accepting heart, which meant it was safe enough to use without risk of awakening—or breaking—him.

The power of a word, and of a name; the former oriented you in the world, the latter made you real. It made you sky or land or ocean, or the misty tide; a sad little wave quietly washing away all the footprints on the sand. The world is mine to shape, that name said, even if the shaping is full of questions.

Did she have answers? No, she had no answers. She only had wants.

What else could a tide have, other than wants?

"Do you remember the first time you told me your name?"

The question made Sora pause, then sit up. "Uh, I..."

"It was the day after the meteor shower. When the boys and I came to say hello."

Sora's face scrunched, nose wrinkled. A hand went to his pendant. She frowned, waited. Their fingers clung to the protective charm, but she had borne a charm there also, and Naminé had laid her hands upon this one.

But it remained cold, cold as your touch, cold as you, refused to carry your illusionary heat.

She would have to do something, take it and—

But then they looked at her, and their closeness to her—thoughts of her face, and her neck, adorned with its pale tear drop—won out. They let it go.

"Yes, I remember. I was in bed. You and Riku and...ah, one of the other boys were there."

She smiled. "Do you remember what we said?"

"Uh..."

"I said, 'I'm Naminé, what's your name?' And you said..."

"'Me?'" Her grin was luminous. "'I'm Kairi!'"

 

♚✩❃✩♚

 

There's a girl standing in a waterfall's spray. She's naked, her perfunctory scrubbing of her body accompanied by the occasional bout of playful sensuality; the silly sort people do when no one is there to watch.

But the boy is watching, her features obscured, but not entirely hidden from his gaze. He won't watch for long, not really. He is too decent for that. But for a few moments he will linger, and what he sees will stay with him; the bored way she passes a cloth over her chest and shoulders, around her breasts, over her hips, down through her sparse bush and along the gentle curve of her penis; her fingers cleaning the head, before snatching the cloth back up and running it down her legs, which are growing longer and gaining hair; the pause before she strikes a pose, gives her hair a flip, runs her hand up her thigh and to her ass. It's all for herself, even if the boy sees.

The mist sees also, but she cannot stay. Instead, she follows the boy as he runs home, to his room, and locks his door. She watches from that place within his eyes as he reaches between his legs and rubs himself hard, presses fingers between his folds and then inside. His thoughts go to the girl; the mist hides the other boy, pushes away the memory of the time they compared sizes, of rubbing up on each other and pretending it was roughhousing, of catching a glimpse of his breasts while he changed. The memories aren't gone, just distant, things the boy can live without for now (an eternal now).

The mist lingers as he lies back and thinks of the secret he told the girl as he touches himself; that he was alright with that part of him, as she was alright with that part of her, that that part of him felt like a boy's part, as that part of her felt like a girl's. She averts his eyes as the struggles of their third pass by; the angst of one caught between desires and dysphoria, between pleasure and pain, between needs and wants, between roles and more embarrassing realities.

She lingers, thus, while he thinks of the girl in the waterfall's spray. She lingers until he is done.

 

♛✩♕✩♚

 

Kairi clambered on ahead of her, jumping up from one level of the room to the next. She still seemed a little awkward, sometimes, her limbs not quite right for her body, movements ungainly. Naminé did not mind. Much like her odd tan lines, her slightly darkened skin, it was cute. Though she was always cute. The fact that she was still growing was likely part of the problem. She'd need a new outfit soon.

Maybe a dress like mine, she thought, running a hand down her side. Her body was changing. She suspected it was responding to hers, adding subtle curves and length to her legs, the occasional hair sprouting where one had not before. She did not mind. Seeing the way Kairi was growing, it felt right to grow too.

No need for us to ever do anything alone again. No need for us to ever be alone again.

No needs. Even the wants grow lesser.

Naminé pulled away from the thought. She could mourn a puppet, but she did not love one.

"There's a waterfall here!" Kairi called. "This one looks real."

The rooms had been more real lately. The Castle had slowly begun to accommodate a new vision for its interior, quietly replacing white walls with vine-strewn cliff faces and ocean views. She had to appreciate that it was listening to her—she ignored the weight of its too-knowing gaze—now, as the adjustments had made Kairi very happy indeed. At times, she even seemed to forget she was in the Castle at all.

"Hey, do you want to sit down for a bit?" Kairi asked, hopping off a ledge to stand beside Naminé. "We've been walking all day. I'm kind of tired, and was thinking you might be, too."

"I'd like that," Naminé said. She did not feel tired often, but she enjoyed sitting with Kairi. She let her guide her up and over to a little patch of sand surrounded by pretty bushes, abundant with flowers in bloom. The fragrant blossoms were in many shades, all inviting: pinks, whites, oranges, yellows, leaves bright green and gorgeous. The sky above concealed the ceiling, pale blue with white clouds drifting, full and fluffy. The waterfall splashed into its pool only a little way away, spray not quite reaching them, although its mist occasionally drifted through the air in curls, sweet and refreshing.

They talked. Kairi was animated, as she often was, bangles jumping about on her wrist, hair bouncing and flaring. It had grown longer. She was never afraid to show her teeth when she smiled, embraced the silliest of expressions with an open mouth. Naminé hid her own behind her hand, let the rounding of her cheeks convey her joy and pleasure.

"—and then, and then, do you remember what Tidus did? He got up on top of this huge log, unzipped his pants, and—" Kairi rocked back, waved her hand about, lifted a leg at the knee. Naminé's eyes fell from her face to her skirt, watched as it slid down to reveal...nothing.

She had her fingers on her thigh in seconds.

Kairi flinched. Naminé did not sigh, simply made up for her mistake by pushing a few words of conversation, a gentle interruption, a request to touch which Kairi had consented to. She wasn't going to do anything hurtful, she just needed to—

She pressed her fingers up against Kairi's crotch, smoothed them along the fabric to confirm things were as she suspected. Sora's boyhood. There were the seams of him, the folds, the hooded length at the top, the hole at the bottom. She did not click her tongue.

"Nami...Naminé?" Kairi's breath came quick, uneasy. She didn't sound like herself.

"Your maidenhead is missing," she said, looking up. Kairi's—no, not Kairi's—eyes darted about. "Doesn't that make you sad?"

"Uh, I..." There was sweat on his brow, his jaw tight. "No, no. It's fine. I don't...I don't want that."

"Don't you?" Naminé asked, voice so very soft. "I'm sorry, I thought you did. You are a girl, Kairi, and having one seemed an important part of that for you."

Kairi hesitated. Two memories bled into each other—that secret understanding, that sweetest of comprehensions shared between a boy and a girl of their circumstances—a conflict that could now only be resolved with the ending of one. Naminé observed the violence for a moment, then moved her hand from beneath her skirt to rest on top.

"It's time to change this, too, isn't it?"

As she spoke, she wove the fabric anew. She took a little of the memory of her own dress, the colors of a sunset, a tropical flower, pale clouds on those rare overcast days. She would look lovely in pink, accented in white and gray. She kept a splash of black, her bangles in various hues, a little of her childishness in her new shoes. She vanished some things, melted others into each other, and for the final touch, allowed the skirt of her dress to roll back just enough to reveal the emptiness between her thighs.

Kairi froze. The tendons of her neck tensed, her throat bobbing around a swallow. Sweat caught on her chin.

Naminé slowly reached under her skirt, touched what was there, and then drew her hand back out. In her wake, flesh changed its shape. It wasn't even that hard. He remembered it very well, and even if he had not, Naminé was, in this matter, more her mirror than his, and could have drawn from her own body.

She smiled, removed her hand entirely, and left the tip of Kairi's maidenhead just visible beyond the hem of her dress.

There was a moment, and then Kairi relaxed, at ease, wiped her sweat from her chin. "I, um, might need some underwear."

Naminé gave her some, then sat back. "Now, what did Tidus do on that log? I can't quite remember."

 

♚✩❃✩♚

 

There's a girl in a cave, in a Secret Place she shares with her two most treasured friends. One of them is sitting on a rock and carving wood into a pointy shape. The other is talking to him, although his eyes keep straying to the girl. The mist can't quite obscure her. She is a star to him, a light to guide. His eyes follow where she leads as she strolls the cavernous chamber, walks the perimeter and admires the art on the walls. She makes idle comments he can't quite hear, then pauses, smiles.

The mist observes rough lines etched into rock: a boy and a girl facing each other. Briefly, in a flash from another time, she sees a paopu fruit presented from the boy's hand to the girl's mouth.

Binding together, forever and ever.

 

♛✩♕✩♚

 

Naminé had already taken the charm. She had remade it in her image; gold as her hair, empty as her life. The one thing she had thought would guarantee his abandonment of her was his memories of her, but no, he had chosen her and that saccharine star. She had hoped the matter settled.

Yet now she wondered if it could really be that easy. For the most, the days and nights in the Castle were peaceful, or just about. But every so often Kairi would tilt her head, just so, and see someone else in her reflection when she was supposed to be seeing herself. Pools, puddles, the ocean tide, freshwater springs, and even the occasional pale marble slab, so rare these days, sent a stab of fear through Naminé. There were no true mirrors, save the one the two girls formed, but every pause or double back Kairi made when she glimpsed herself in some reflective surface was a cause for concern.

Don't leave me. Please, please don't leave me.

So she knew her task was not complete. She had to ensure that the memory that had Kairi seeing someone other than herself, seeing her, was gone, because that girl was here, in the Castle with Naminé, safe with Naminé, eager for Naminé's love and care and eternal affection, eternal devotion. That girl wanted to hold her, keep her close, nestle her upon her chest and in the shelter of her heart.

So, the memory had to go. She was the key to Kairi. She could unlock the chains and release the boy within.

The memory cannot be erased.

Indeed, it could not. But it could change.

Make the promise to me instead, Kairi. Make it to me.

The Castle presented her with an opportunity; a room like a cave, water trickling down the sides, vines hanging languidly, crystal glistening from within cracked, ancient stone. There were stars, or the image of them anyhow, trailing ribbons of light, the rest of the world veiled in velvet darkness. Naminé let Kairi herself choose the wall, though she knew not that she was choosing it. Her heart guided her; that alone was reassurance enough that Naminé was doing what needed to be done.

"This reminds me of that place back home," Kairi said, crouching down to pick up a rock. "The one where we used to carve pictures and play pretend. Yours were always a little awkward." She laughed.

"And my drawings?" Naminé asked, kneeling beside her. "Are they awkward?"

"Those are cute. I like the way you color. I like your approach. But rock's a different medium."

"Do you want to show me how to do it? You were always better at it."

"Sure!" She giggled. "Although I don't know if I'm that good."

Kairi took her place. There was a moment when she seemed unsure of where that was, but she settled on the left. She glanced at Naminé, pulled a face, then began to hack her into the rock. Something squirmed, maybe delight, to see the style of the image she formed: Kairi, all Kairi.

Naminé selected her own rock, then, and joined her. It felt a little disrespectful, but she didn't need hers to be good; didn't want hers to be good. She could make it a smidge better, perhaps, but could not chance straying too far from the original work it would sit atop. Indeed, she needed to ensure the lines and shapes remained comfortably familiar, so that was what she did.

"Aw, Naminé!" Kairi exclaimed, when she saw her efforts. "It's...a bit of a mess, to be honest."

"Sorry," Naminé said, without feeling it at all. She paused, rock held out but not touching the wall. She knew Kairi's eyes were on her, though she pretended she did not.

"Naminé?"

"Kairi..." She let her name trail, sweet and soft. "I'm going to add something."

Then, with the skill of a master she made the art of the amateur; a clumsy paopu fruit shared from Naminé to Kairi. She blushed. She did not mean to blush.

"Oh..." Kairi said, her voice wobbly. For just a moment, there was panic. But all Kairi did was reach out and touch the carved stone, lips trembling, eyes glassy. A tear slipped out.

She took up her rock, added her own returned paopu, then dropped it and flung herself into Naminé's arms. Naminé held her tight, let out a quiet sigh into her hair. There was no key now that could free her from this.

Am I talking about her, or me?

It didn't matter, in the end. What mattered was that they crossed the cave to a pile of blankets and lay there, curled around each other. Naminé held Kairi's back against her chest, tangled their legs, smelled the sweetness of her. What mattered was them, together: princess and witch, ocean and mist, mirrored girls. What mattered was never being alone, was always being chosen. What mattered was eternity.

She's away, safe on some distant beach. She's here, in my arms.

She's here. She's here. She's here.

Naminé pressed a kiss to her hair.

She's here, with me.

 

♚✩❃✩♚

 

There's a girl sitting at the end of a dock. She's watching the sun set into the sea, roseate waves sparkling like the stars of a thousand different worlds. A boy sits by her side. They talk. The mist sits between them, obscures, watches, listens.

"Maybe... You know, I was a little afraid at first, but now I'm ready. No matter where I go or what I see, I know I can always come back here. Right?"

The mist reaches out and touches her. Yes, she thinks, you can always come back here.

 

♛ミ✬♕✬彡♛

 

They found the Destiny Islands tucked away in some strange corner of Castle Oblivion. Naminé won't ask how, and Kairi won't know to. Time moves, not in truth, but in imagining; the night, the dawn, the noon, the dusk are simply scenes for them to act out their days in. Naminé won't ask how, and Kairi won't know to.

That was fine. That was the way it should be.

Now and then, Naminé let memories of Riku, of Tidus and Wakka and Selphie, of the other Islanders, flit through Kairi's head. She let her believe they were there with them, that they played with her, that she went home sometimes, that she went to school, did her chores, wandered the mainland.

In truth, she spent her time in eternal paradise with Naminé on the shores of their play island. Naminé had not heard her complain about it.

That evening, they had decided to take a walk along the shore, Naminé a little ahead. Sometimes it was nice to watch Kairi from a distance. She'd grown up a lot, looked radiant where once she had been sweet. There was still a wistful look in her eyes, mysteries inside that Naminé had yet to uncover, and perhaps might never, but that was alright. They were Kairi's, after all. She did not mind if she kept some things to herself.

She ignored the Castle and its knowing gaze.

Some of Kairi's mysteries would be revealed to her soon, she suspected. They had become increasingly intimate, and though they had not crossed any lines, they had come close. Naminé bit her lip, covered her mouth.

How fortunate, because at that moment Kairi turned away from that unending ocean vista, saw her watching, and smiled. She raised a hand, called her name, and then hurried across the sand on bare feet, the skirt of her dress fluttering dangerously around her thighs. Naminé thought she could make it a little shorter.

"Hey, what are you looking at?" Kairi asked. Her voice said she already knew.

How little she knew. "You," Naminé replied. "I wish I'd brought my sketchpad." She paused, then added, "I'd like to draw you down at the docks, sometime."

Kairi hummed, rocked on her heels. "Hm, should I let you, when you're looking at me so scandalously?" Then she laughed. "Alright. Hey, we could head there now, if you like. Give you a taste." She winked, gave a little twist of her hips and made her skirt flare again.

Naminé flushed, bowed her head, hid behind her hair. "Okay."

Again, she ignored the Castle. She knew it liked the performance.

Kairi giggled, took her hand. "Well, c'mon, let's—" She made to move and stumbled in the sand. She was still awkward, sometimes. Naminé caught her, but not before her necklace slipped out of the front of her dress and swayed: a most seductive pendulum.

There was a pause. Kairi's brow furrowed, and then, for just a second, recognition in his eyes: a self he no longer knew—that he had surrendered even before she had chosen the princess—shooting stars in the sky, a promise that was made, the other protective charm, a world that no longer existed, a life that was now gone, gone once, gone twice. "Is this...mine?"

You will need more than illusionary heat.

"Oh, that," Naminé said, smiled sweetly, helped him stand. She reached out and took the pendant in her hands. Cold, cold, cold. She pushed heat, all that she longed for and all that she had, all the flushed pleasure of the union that made her, all the power she had that she would now use for herself, and her hands burned. "It's a crown for a princess, see?"

And as Kairi watched, she removed it, pendant and chain both, and reforged it. She pulled it apart, made it wider in places, thinner in others, more delicate, more appropriate for her princess's coronation. She would look sweet in a chunky crown, but Kairi was so much more than sweet. Naminé made it radiant, and then, she found that hidden link—the memory of the promise sworn on that night full of shooting stars—and bound it to its new chain. Naminé's chain. She wove it deep inside and then, once done, placed it gently on Kairi's head.

Oh, how lovely she looked in her crown of chains.

Kairi saw all of it. Kairi saw none of it. She stared, dazed, until the crown was laid on her head and the last vestige of the other, robbed of his last protector, crumbled beneath its weight.

"I gave it to you when I promised I would always keep you safe, remember?" She said, and smiled. "A crown fit for a princess."

"Oh, pft," Kairi snorted. "You're such a flatterer."

Then she leaned forward and kissed her, and Naminé felt something like a heart in her chest. Her hands came up, clutched the front of Kairi's dress, formed a little tear drop pendant to take the other's place. Smiled against her lips. She was complete.

All was as it should be.

"Alright," Kairi said, pulling back. The breeze came up, caught her hair and sent it dancing. She held out her hand. "To the docks?"

It's where we can always come back to, Naminé thought, at peace for the first time in a long time, and took that hand for her own. It's where we can always stay.

 

✬彡♡❃♡ミ✬

 

There's a girl on a beach somewhere, waiting. Both her dearest friends are gone. She has no idea if she should build a raft, make a charm, tell her other friends what has happened. Her heart is breaking.

He promised he would find him and bring them both home. He promised he would come back to her. He promised, but now she stands alone and receives no kisses. Not from the sea, the land, or the sky.

The mist does not see the girl, because the boy does not see the girl. Besides, the mist does not need to see the girl anymore. She has bewitched herself a princess and may kiss her as she wishes.

 

♙✾♖✾♙

 

The Castle is empty now of all but three: the boy, whom it protects, and the girls, whom are its beloveds. The girls have both chosen the false and made it real. Their bodies, their hearts, their souls, their desires are now perfectly entwined. Inside that embrace, they also keep the boy safe. The Castle has what it desires too.

To find is to lose [find the princess, lose the girl] and to lose is to find [lose the girl, find the peace].

That is the way of Castle Oblivion.

 

♕♥♖♥♛