Beauty and the Tainted: Chapter 3

Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, and the things you never want to lose. Well, I wanted as ever to hold onto the memories of my family. Their warm embraces, their loving faces. I will always remember them. I will not let my memory be tainted by the warp instinct of the Heartless, no matter to what extent they haunted my dreams...
I mould over my thoughts as I enter the kitchen. The edible aroma knocks me into a stupor. Herbs and salts mask the air, filling my senses, stirring my empty stomach. I blush as my stomach makes its presence known with an audible growl.
"Oh, dear, you must be starved."

I yelp, heart racing, as I search franticly for the source of the warm caring voice. I didn't even realize that there was anyone in here along with me. My searching led my eyes to a young brunette woman. Standing over the stove, she stirs the unknown contents of a boiling pot with a wooden spoon. Her hair is tied back in a long platted ponytail with a soft pink ribbon; it hangs like rope past the curve of her waist, curls framing her lifted cheekbones and green eyes. Her smile lifts the tense stance that had instinctively settled into my muscles.

"U-uh, yes, ma'am."
She giggles light-heartedly. "You don't have to call me 'ma'am'. My name is Aeris." she halts in her stirring to walk over to me. I offer her a smile, glad to have someone for whom I could address normally.
"My name is Danella. Um, Aeris," my curiosity gets the better of my good manners as I look into her evergreen eyes, "do you"-it felt rude to say 'serve'-"work here too?"
Her smile falters slightly, looking on me with sadness before she regains composure.
"Yes, but I do so voluntarily. I've known the little master for a long time."
I am taken aback as she referred to...Sora as 'the little master'. It is hard to imagine Sora ever being little to anyone; he brings upon his person, such a threatening feeling. Almost as if he looks down on everyone, daring them to speak up.

"I must say you look charming in that dress." Aeris quickly changes the course of our discussion as she claps her hands together softly, beaming. I blush, fiddling around with the hem of the sundress, self-consciously.
"Are all those dresses for me?"
"Of course. The little master made sure to send someone off to the town to get appropriate attire for you. Your clothes were soiled from the night."
"Oh, that was...kind of him." I cannot stop the frown that slips across my face. It was a kind gesture. Knowing all those dresses – the ones for which I can never hope to deem myself worthy of – have been bought for me, alone. They are lovely garments. However, a servant should not be expected to wear such things. In all honesty, I am braced for rags.

"The little master may be cold, but it is not..." she drifts off as a musical ringing fills the air, singing over Aeris' voice. A silver bell, hanging over the kitchen door. Aeris is back over to her boiling pot in the blink of an eye.
"That would be the little master, he's on his way to the dining room," she dashes from station to station, brown hiking boots scuffing across the tile floor as she goes, "you might want to seat yourself before he does I'm afraid, Danella."
"Right," I said, quickly rushing through to the dining room, "thanks, again."
"Think nothing of it, dear."
And with that, I am out the door and seating myself on the freshly set dining room table.

My heart is hammering against my chest as Sora enters the room, hushed footsteps tracing across the mahogany floor. He does not acknowledge my presence in any way – not that I expected him to, of course. I do not know why he wants me to sit with him; it is beyond senseless - he is not making any other effort to make me feel welcome. I bite back a greeting, not wishing to be ignored by any other means.

Maybe he is giving me a taste of what it is like to be...equal. To meet and dine with him, dressed in fine clothes and served food that could make me drool for more. And once he is finished hanging the half eaten roast in front of my eyes, he will snatch it all back, never to be seen again. The dresses, the food, and the company. All of it.

I am a servant after all.

I try to remember my table etiquette from my past formal dinners. I have not attended many. Why did they have to give us, poor souls, so many forks and knives? I can just as easily use one set for two or so courses. Oh, but no, that would never do. They had to have four forks, two knives, and two spoons. With them placed down all at once, from the very beginning, how am I supposed to tell 'steak' from 'butter'? The soup spoon, the pudding spoon, the steak knife, and the butter knife. It is confusing enough. Sora knows that I have no idea of how things are set. He would be counting on it.
He is not going to beat me that easily.

Hiding under my lashes, I glance up at the beginning of each course, keeping track of which utensil he chooses. I pray I am being sneaky about it...
"I presume," I jump as Sora's voice splinters the ice curtain dangling between us, "that your room is cleaned thoroughly."
"U-uh, yes Sor-sir." No - I am not allowed to address him by name. 'Sir'. Always 'sir'.

Oh, for pities sake! I sounded like a total blubbering idiot!

He does not look up to acknowledge my little blunder once again. He hides his cerulean eyes quite well. "Good. I would hate to think you were abusing my hospitality by defying my simple instructions."
I suck in a quivering breath before speaking, "Of course not, sir. I must pay homage to you, sir - for you were gracious enough to grant me the use of your spare room and clothes."
I almost stumble over myself as he looks up, blue depths smouldering with some unknown emotion. "I...am truly thankful. You saved my life; I could never cross you..."
My gaze finally breaks, I can no longer look into those eyes. They burned, deep within me.

"Yes...well," he pauses, as if uncertain how to continue, "I see you have gone through the garments I have supplied you."
Does my change in attire really stand out so well? Aeris and now Sora had both commented on it. His tentative eyes lingered on me longer than was necessary. Or was it just my wishful thinking?
"It suits you," he said as if it is such a simple thing to say, "I do not want you dressing in your own clothes as long as you are under my services, do you understand?" I am still flushed from his complement, but I nod with a whimpering 'yes, sir' as I nervously pick at my own finger nails.


One more course to go, and then I will be free to go off to my room – right after I thank Aeris for the lovely meal, of course. A bowl of crystallized gold cream, glistening like spring snow, is placed before me. A single mint leaf decorates the rim of the bowl. The aroma is so enticing; I cannot wait to dive into it.
"Aah," I barely hear Sora's sigh of pleasure through my mind's musings, "Aeris' favourite dish. She has chosen to treat us tonight."
He said her name with such ease, so normal and light.
"...May I ask what this dessert is?"
"Paopu fruit ice-cream."
Ice-cream? 'Paopu fruit' ice-cream? Never heard of that before.
"It is one of Aeris' specialties. It has been so long since she has last made this dish for me..." for each word that passes through his lips, his brow is pulled further and further together, troubled, as his eyes grow more and more distant. Memories are powerful things; they can take a hold of you so suddenly and strongly. With Sora, right at this moment, there is no exception.

"Soraaa!" the door bashes the wall in as a lean young man slips into the room. A dark purple-black silk wrapped top hat adorns his head of messy crimson tresses. Never have I seen such a hedgehog looking head of hair before. A cluster of spikes fan out behind his head and down his neck. Lime green eyes glow under his maroon brows that are raised up high into his hair line. Purple tear-drop tattoos mark his cheekbones, right under each eye. So properly dressed and polished, there is no way he is a servant.

"Sora, Sora, Sora," he mocks disappointment as he closes his eyes, slipping his hat from his head, and placing a gloved hand over his 'wounded' heart, "I'm hurt."
I hear Sora's scoff turn into a groan as the crimson-haired man trudges his way over to his seat, wrapping a casual arm round the brunette's shoulders.
"How dare you keep this young lady all to yourself! Introductions must be made. It's good manners y'know."

I stare, wide-eyed, as he makes his way over to me. Grinning like a Cheshire cat as he ghosts his fingers along my arm before drawing my hand up, never taking his eyes off of mine, as he brushes his lips against the skin of my knuckles.
I'm surprised all the feeling remains in my limbs as I feel my cheeks flame with blood. Certainly all of it is filling up my face at this very moment.

"My name is Axel. And what a lovely flower you are, my dear. Surely your name is just as pure."
Gawking like a fish, I try to blink away the flaming urge to scream in embarrassment. His flirting is so obvious, and so overdone. I did not deserve his attention.
"Back off, Axel!" Sora said curtly through gritted teeth, eyes steely as he glares daggers into the back of the lean man's head.
"My, my," Axel raises a teasing brow at Sora as he pulls his lips away from my fingers, and yet refuses to let go, "aren't we possessive?"
"I am nothing of the sort!" he said sharply, looking away, red filling his right cheek angrily.
Axel chuckles, and fails miserably in covering it up with a cough.
"Whatever you say," he turns back to me, dazzling his lime green eyes at me as he releases my hand, "I'm sorry but I must leave you to your captor, my little rose petal."

Your rose petal? He couldn't honestly be that interested...right?

I must look like a doe caught in the headlight as I watch Axel exit the dining room, adorning his head with his top hat once again.

"...in the way..."
I turn back to Sora, catching only a second of what he has been muttering under his breath. "I'm sorry, pardon?"
"Nothing!"
I bite my lip. If he had not been in a mood before; he was defiantly in one now. Eyes sour and cold, my throat dries up at the mere sight of them. Why is he so mad? It is not like I did anything to lead Axel on. No doubt he is an honoured guest of this mansion of Sora's. Maybe I have embarrassed Sora with my blank surprise and presence. I suppose he wants me to go unnoticed by the others that live amongst the mansion. I am of no importance; he wants to keep it that way.

"I'm sorry..."
Without a word, Sora is out of his seat, ice-cream long forgotten and melted, and storms out of the room. I am left to my shame. He is defiantly mad with me. Why did Axel have to come along? He ruined what little progress I had made with the master.

Sighing, I gather the uneaten ice-cream bowls and glimmering silver cutlery, hair hiding me away as I walk back to the kitchen.
"Lemme take those off your hands, dear." Before I can protest, the bowls are slipped out of my grasp and placed into the bubbled sink. I feel the responsibility fall upon my shoulders to pass my regrets onto Aeris.
"I'm sorry that we were unable to sample your Paopu fruit ice-cream – we were a little distracted."
"That's alright, dear. I'll be sure to save the rest of it for tomorrow night," she leans forward, cupping a hand on the side of her mouth as if she is telling me a secret, "just for you and me - Sora can sulk off to bed without dessert."
I giggle; Aeris really is a good soul.

"Looking forward to it. Would you like any help with the dishes?"
"Oh, no, no, no," she smiles sweetly, turning me round and urging me out the door, "you just leave the kitchen to me. Now off to bed with you, you've got a big day ahead of you."
"I-I-I do?"
"Yes, of course. We can't have you falling asleep on us."
I do not know what to say. What could possibly be so draining that I have to go to bed and rest up for at...I looked up at the ticking cuckoo clock propped over the stove...nine o'clock? Must be pretty something.

"'Kay. I'll see you in the morning than, Aeris." I cannot help but mirror her smile.
"And I'll have breakfast all ready for you, Danny...you don't mind me calling you 'Danny' right?"
"Of course not." It makes me feel so much more welcome. Like I am home, back in my town.
"I hope you like vanilla pancakes and syrup."
"I love vanilla pancakes and syrup. Especially with whipped cream." I said before I leave Aeris, remembering the last time I had vanilla pancakes. Mother, Father, and Roxas... Memories are powerful things, especially when it comes to remembering the ones you love...and loved.

Beauty and the Tainted: Chapter 2

It's so cold...
What is that soft brush against my cheek? Something snaps beneath weight. A twig? Warmth presses against my side. I graciously snuggle against it like a kitten would their mother's belly. Warmth fades as a growling rumble breathes against my ear. Strange...

...

Life prickles through my limbs, my entire right side numb, as I shift uncomfortably. I am lying on something very cold and very hard, like granite against my cheek. I pull my arm out from under me. A hammer is being beat against my temple, driving me insane, I just know it. There is no way that my head can hurt this much without it. Groaning, I blink past the sleep in my eyes to take in my surroundings.

No wonder my "bed" for the night has been so uncomfortable; I am lying on a slab floor. The coarse floor has left an etched pattern on the skin of my cheek. Gargoyle statues haunt the room. Horns of Aries curling round their bat-like ears as their gaping mouths are bared threateningly. Soulless eyes burn into my skull as I tear my own away from their intimidating forms to look back around. They may be just statues, but that does not make them any less scary to me.

An icicle chandelier, hanging overhead at the very apex of the ceiling, is the single solitary light source. Though it is a welcoming contrast to the very room for which it lights, the light is still ghostly. Phantom light. Like the full moon on a storming night.

A pair of spiral staircases lead to both the left and right ends of the room, hugging the walls, each curling up to a shrouded hallway. Crimson tapestries hang from the stairways' balconies, bordered with black symbolic roses and vines. In the center of each tapestry was a flat black...heart?

Pushing past my slight dizziness, I gather up my feet, holding my head against my palm. The air is so musky it makes my head spin; leaving a bad taste on my tongue. Unruly knots of blond hair curl around my face, adding to my growing annoyance.


"'Bout time you got up," I swear I jump five feet into the air. I swerve around, back to the beginning of the stairs. There, slouching over himself as he sits upon the stairs, is a young man.
Shadows cast from his spiky brown hair hang over his face. Eyes hidden, he seems to be staring at his own booted feet, completely ignoring my presence. From what I can gather from his appearance, I would say that he is some sort of miner. Then again, no amount of rock and soil could mark someone's skin like that. Scars and bruises decorate what little I can see of his arms, neck and legs. Some scars are fainter than others, but they all seem the same in one way. Equally spaced out, the sets of five scars run parallel to each other - like a wild cat scratch.

I swallow past the harsh lump of pity in my throat as I imagine the pain these many scars would have caused when first made.
"You can stare all you want," I flinch back at the low harshness of his voice, "I don't need your pity!"
Before I could even think of a reply, he was up and started his way towards me. Breathing weakly, for each step he takes forward, I take one back. Fear clutches at my heart as I am backed up against a marble pillar.

"Are you scared of me?" he almost sounds smug, his mouth twisting into a cruel smirk. All I do is nod. I really am scared. But why was he taking pleasure in that?
"Are you more afraid of me...or the Heartless?" he asked a question of his own, one I was not expecting. With that question passing by his lips, the gleam of his cruel smile vanishes. He is being utterly serious with me now.
"Th-the Heartless..." I cannot help the quacking in my voice. Images of those men dying before my eyes...why won't they go away?
"I see." I catch a slight glimpse of cerulean through his curtain of brunette bangs. Something stirs in my heart, my fear melting as I am captivated by something so simple as his eyes.

Just as easily as the spell on my limbs was cast, it is broken as soon as those deep warming eyes are hidden beneath shadow once again.
"You have a dept to pay," he said as he brushes his fingers across my cheek. My stomach twistes but I cannot help how the soft, gentle, touch makes me feel so safe and warm. "A life was saved last night, now it is under my control. You owe me that very life," he breathes against my ear. The awareness that he is drawing his lips closer and closer to my own grows, "and I shall use it as I see fit."
Just a breath's length away now, I would just have to tilt my head back to make our lips touch. "You are my prisoner - my slave - until I say otherwise..."
He catches his breath, as if someting has burned him. He draws back sharply, a hiss escaping him.

What was I thinking? I had completely forgotten my fear and had wanted to kiss him!

I can feel the blood rush to my face, colouring my cheeks, as I jerk my head to the side to hide my embarrassment. All is silent as I try to catch up my mind with his words. What had he said? 'Slave'?
"A slave?" I asked, head hanging in shame.
"Yes. You shall do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it."
I bite my lip.
"Follow me." I follow after him like the hopeless slave I am.


Each room is more depressing, dank and darker than the one before. Cobwebbed corners. Dusty ripped curtains. The floors are no better...

"I expect the tables to be cleaned, spotless, before every meal," the muscles of his back flex tensely as he storms ahead of me, never checking to see if I am keeping pace with him. "you will attend such meals if I say so. If not, you take into intuition that you should eat in the kitchen."
He awaits my recognition. I am to be formal and yet not dote when addressing him.
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now, that is all the rooms that shall concern you," he continues off down the chapel-like hall after the dining room is closed. I trail after him until my straying eyes hone in on a mahogany pair of doors. A single golden heart knocker, clings five feet from the floor upon the door. He has yet to tell me about that room.

"Uh...sir," I said tentatively. He freezes mid-step. "What about that room?"
He turns his head stiffly in the direction of my gesture.
"That room is none of your concern." His tone tells me that that is the end of the conversation.
"Y-yes, sir."
"This way. I'll show you to your room."
Wha-?"My room? But I thought-"
"That you'd sleep on the floor like a dog? Would you prefer that?" he asked sharply. Tears sting the corners of my eyes.
"I- No...sir."
"Then follow me." I do so, no more questions asked.


It took less than five minutes to reach my appointed room. I do not think that this room will be any cleaner than the others. If the very door is covered in dust and grime, I fret as to what state I will find the room in.
"I expect you to be dressed suitably and to have your room cleaned by the time I sit down for dinner." He turns to leave me to my work.
"Wait!" I bite my lip. Never raise your voice to him. "Uh, sorry..."
There is no doubt in the way he holds himself that he is annoyed with my continuous interruptions.
"What is it?" he asked, hair hanging over his eyes still as he denys the courtesy of looking at me.
"May I ask - if it is not too much to do so - that I...ask for your name?" he raises an eyebrow to me, I can tell as I see his head twitch over in my direction. "What is your name, sir?"
He obviously did not expect me to ask such a simple question for he finally looks up to me.
Once again I am stunned by the warm familiarity of those cerulean eyes. They make my tense stance slump. Cerulean. Just like my brother...

But there is no doubt that they are not my brother's eyes. I can see so much more experience, hurt, in these eyes compared to my brother's. These eyes are hard, closed off, having seen things no other his age has. They are as reserved as he himself.
"...ra."
I am snapped back into the time at hand as he blinks at me, his dark fan of lashes cutting off his hold on me. I clear my throat.
"Um...pardon?"
I am surprised that he does not harden up when I ask again. "Sora. That is my name."
"Sora..." I tested the way his name feels passing through my lips. His eyes are so warm and soft now, as if happiness is seeping into his veins and stirring deep within him. Vast, everlasting as the sky. I can almost feel the warm embrace as I look into them.

He turns back, taking away the eyes of my brother and shrouding them beneath his brunette locks.
"If you need anything, my servants will attend you." Sora said through gritted teeth, the tension in his jaw pronounce, "I will see you at dinner."
"Sora..." but he is too far gone for my whisper to have been heard. I sweep my fingers across the brass doorknob of my room, slipping inside as I pull the door open.


I tenderly trace my fingers across the wall, searching for a switch of some kind. The light of the moon seeping through the torn-curtain window is only enough to cast a light hue against the floor. Finally, I find a notch in the wall.
Warm radiance fills the once dark room, stinging my eyes for a moment as they try to adjust to the world around them. It...is not as bad as I thought. A midnight blue canopy double bed lies against the right wall, opposite the oriel windowed wall. The starlight gossamer curtains drape over the bed on either side, hiding the head of the bed. A rose emblem etched the footboard. Cobwebs and dust are scarce. Crossing the carpet floor, the lone mahogany Victorian wardrobe draws my eye. 'I expect you to be dressed suitably...'. That's what Sora had said, I must obey. However, what would be suitable in his eyes?

Opening the doors to the room-height wardrobe, I brush my hand along the hanging gowns and dresses. What a selection. Where did all these lovely dresses come from? They are certainly not meant for a "servant". From silk to cashmere, these are not meant to drape upon those that kneel on dirtied floors. Humble to my master, I choose the most modest of them all.

...

The beige sundress now adorned my body. The black omen bodice clings to my sides and waist, pressing my chest forward whilst leaving the dress's skirt to fan out like a flower's petals as I sway in front of the mirror. Showing my curves not too modestly yet not too pronounce either. I am thankful. There is hardly anything to "show off", and I would have looked like a flat stick if I had chosen any of the other gowns that hung lifelessly in my wardrobe.

I sigh heavily as I brush my fingers along my blushing cheeks, why am I thinking so much of Sora? He is so...grotesque. I should not have acted the way I did. Groaning, I see the blush glow in the mirror as I think about how close I had been to kissing him. I had been so drawn to him - so warm, it felt so right. So easy. I needed to have him kiss me at that moment, his eyes caressing my face. In that moment, with his cerulean eyes holding my own brown eyes in place, I had felt so safe. Why is he so harsh when his eyes are so soft?

Because he's hiding something, I can tell at least that much. Soft and open one moment, hard and glazed over, protected, his eyes are the next. My saviour is hiding something; something close to his heart.

All those scars, mauling his body. What has he been through? What has he lived through to scar him in such a way? All these questions, running through my mind, they are never going to be answered!
Brushing my hair back away from my eyes quickly, I gaze across the room. My room, now. Now, the tattered curtains are lying in the trash. The walls are dusted of cobwebs. The bed is made; my own dress is smothered amongst the others in my new wardrobe. Happy that everything in this room is to standard, I rush out the door, swinging the door shut, and race down the hall to the kitchen.