I don’t own anything that has to do with Kingdom Hearts, but this textwork. All the characters, places, events and such likes belongs to Square Enix and/or Disney.
If there would have been a feeling dwelling inside Vexen, it must’ve been hesitation. Standing on the bottom step of the stairs leading up to the upper floors of Castle Oblivion, he was weighing on his feet, wondering whether he should go up there or not.
But now, there couldn’t have been hesitation that the blonde man was feeling. Actually, he wasn’t able to feel anything at all. Being a nobody, a being that was of neither the world of light nor the one of darkness, he did not exist. Instead of a throbbing inside his chest, there was nothing but an empty space, taking the place of his non-existent heart.
What separated Vexen from other people was just that fact: that he didn’t have a heart. And with no heart, he was unable of feeling.
Not feeling in the manner of bodily touch, and that he hardly or not at all did sense it. No, the touch of other materials against his skin, that, Vexen was highly capable of feeling. In fact, he did at this very moment feel the gentle weight of his black cloak against his shoulders; the floor beneath him was hard, but as unreal as him.
No, what Vexen did not feel, was just.. feelings. Without a heart to pump boiling blood through his body, he wasn’t able of feeling love or passion. With no heart to break, he wasn’t able to feel sorrow or sadness. And with no heart to tremble like a caught animal in his chest, Vexen was unable to feel fear or panic, even in the most horrible of situations.
But he wasn’t the only one. In this non-existent castle, in this non-existent world, there were other people, as non-existent as him. The only ting that separated him from them was that he was more convinced, surer, that the absence of a heart robbed him of all emotion. The others would allow themselves with simple pleasures, with food and sleep, but Vexen didn’t.
Convinced as he was, he firmly believed that there was no use to play games or read other books than encyclopaedias or reports – for he could simply not enjoy it. Eating and drinking was nothing to be spent so much time on, for it was just a way to keep his unreal body going. A way to provide himself with nutrition and moisture, and nothing else. And sleeping was something only to be made during the most desperate situations.
Otherwise, Vexen would keep himself going by coffee and caffeine pills, or by sucking a dextrose tablet until he was so filled with energy, he would go on with his work day in and day out, wearing his non-existent body out until he finally collapsed, and slept for a few hours until he could get going again without his limbs disobeying him.
This way of living – or, well.. Vexen didn’t exist, so he didn’t live – this way of being, gave him a worn out appearance. There were dark spaces around the inner corners of his eyes, strengthening the effect as they already lay deep, and though half closed they held a colour of piercing green. As most lines of his face, the jaw- and cheekbones were high and sharp, almost running parallel against each other. Both his face and his body were thin – skinny as he would say. Since the full mouth seldom smiled, it made the lips looked thin instead, and the eyebrows that crooked about in the middle were thin as well, giving his high forehead an intelligent impression. The hair was blonde, though he would not satisfy with just blonde, but compare it with a fair gold that shimmered from the sun during an otherwise cold and pale winter morning.
But of course, he could never be content with a simple description. The nobody that in this precise moment tormented Vexen’s mind with an illusion of hesitation could never give a clear explanation of anything and then just leave it be. No, he had to decorate his already flowery speech with as many adjectives he could come up with, flourishing and just being over the world.
It drove Vexen crazy to say the least.
But still, there was something about the exaggerated, superficial, slightly egocentric man that had caught Vexen’s eye. Though he often scolded Marluxia for interrupting him, not showing him the respect his higher rank and age required, the frequent visits and rather abusive ways of showing affection had finally won Vexen over.
He was still scolding the pink haired man, of course, but couldn’t help but approving.
And now, he was standing on the lowest of the steps leading to the upper floors of Castle Oblivion, hesitating. The flower in his hand looked like it was made of glass at first sight, but when looking closer, you could notice it was actually ice creating the soft curves of the lily, not melting, even in the hands of the man holding it, and breaking the light into a million colours, only a few of them named. It seemed to be a good idea at four o’clock in the morning, when he came up with it. But now, after a few hours of sleep, it seemed a ridiculous thing to do, going up there and giving him a flower of ice, in compensation of the ones that died in winter.
In difference of Vexen, Marluxia always got sad when winter came. The flowers the botanist loved so much all died, though his attempts to keep them alive, and this thought had struck Vexen as he realised fall was closing in.
So here he was, wondering if Marluxia would be happy if he paid him a visit, or just find the lily made of ice ridiculous. Vexen could not feel anything – especially not love – he was completely convinced of that. Yet, there was something about Marluxia – or rather, even the thought of Marluxia – that had a shiver run along his spine. Not one of those cold, awful shivers, but a warm one, completely different from what Vexen was used to. It felt like the frozen core of his body was melting slowly, only by picturing the botanist’s face, and that did it.
His heels clicked against the white floor as Vexen walked up the stairs, a rare smile on his lips.
“Can I trust that, Marly? Huh? Can I?” Larxene’s voice pierced the air, sparking like from electricity as it reached Vexen’s ears, and he froze in his tracks. Though he didn’t have any problems – or, at least, not that many problems – with showing a softer side of himself for Marluxia, he did not want Larxene to see him handing over the gift.
During one, crazy moment, Vexen’s brain analysed the situation. What was happening in the room he was about to enter, the options he had, and the possible results of choosing any of them. In the end, he decided to simply hide behind the door, waiting for the Savage Nymph to leave the room, and so he did.
But while standing there, his back pressed against the cold stone wall, Vexen couldn’t help but hearing what was said in there, and it almost made him stop breathing.
“Of course you can, what do you take me for?” Marluxia sounded annoyed. “I’ve taken all the steps necessary for the elimination, and Axel is well prepared.”
Elimination? Vexen knit his brow and started to listen more carefully, turning his head towards the door, so he might catch a glimpse of either person through the narrow opening between the door and the trim. If he’d had a heart, it would’ve pumped hard in thrill, but it didn’t, and he satisfied himself with the logic fact that this might be information of value for himself.
And it proved to be.
“Really?” The electric voice didn’t seem convinced. “Remember, Vexen is a slippery fish, he might suspect something.”
At that point, it felt like the scientist’s amazing brain completely stopped working. Yet, in the horrible tranquillity that filled his head, he could figure out what the two were speaking of, and it had him hold his breath completely, hands clutching the ice lily hard.
“I would know that better than anyone – wouldn’t I? I share the old man’s bed, you know.”
Larxene chuckled and Vexen’s hands started to ache from the crushing grip.
“I know, but I don’t understand what you see in him.”
“Neither do I.” Cracks started to show on the lily’s perfect surface, and the scientist’s hands trembled. “But it makes the time pass.”
He sounded so reckless! If he’d been capable of emotion, Vexen believed he would have been crying at that moment, or been filled with fury. But now, it just felt like he’d lost something important to him. Since his brain seemed to be out of function, Vexen did not think. He just stood there, gritting his teeth and listening. Yet, a strange, empty feeling started to spread inside of him. Like a part of his chest had just been ripped away, but he couldn’t tell what.
“As you wish, then. If you think your preparations are enough for Axel to kill Vexen off, I won’t question them. But I don’t expect you to fail, then.”
There was a crash as the lily in Vexen’s hand broke. “Of course not, Larx. I know that traitor better than anyone. I’ll get him killed, be sure of that.” Before the pieces of ice had hit the ground, and before the Graceful Assassin had finished speaking, Vexen had turned around and left; the pain that spread throughout his body made it impossible for him to listen to any more.
Anyhow, this is another MarVex story, though it’s not that explicit as Prince Of Ice. You understand the two of them are special to one another, but the focus lies on their bittersweet end, rather than sex.
Part 1 of 2.