Terraqua Week

"There are no winners - only truths, for when equal powers clash, their nature is revealed." A week to celebrate our star-gazing Keybearers. SEPT 6-13, 2024

[terraquaweek]

Terraqua Week 2024 Prompts!

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We got prompts. We're so excited for this year's event.

Keep an eye out for Spice Weekend prompts! They'll be posted over at @terraquadreams

[mimiplaysgames]

The Bed Story, ch. 7 (Oaths)

Terraqua Week 2024, Day 7

Terra/Aqua | Terra/Anti-Aqua Rating: M Word Count: 3,486 @terraquaweek

Summary: Terra meets Anti-Aqua, and he's sorry for what they did and didn't do.

Read on AO3

A/N: y'all this fic was my companion for the last 5 weeks. I have finished editing the rest of the fic for the most part already I feel hollow about this being over.

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This was one of Aqua’s favorite dreams. Yes, there was the one where she elevated to become a Master, alongside the best friend who had been there for most of her life. Yes, there was also the one where she wished to be more with him, to trade their oaths between their hearts and bodies. 

But this was the one she thought about so often. And the Realm of Darkness finally (finally) responded. 

This was playtime. She was at Radiant Garden, but with time reversed, back to moments before they fought and Terra turned his back on her. Aqua chose a cottage inn where the wood was painted lavender and the porch was decorated in flowers.

Aqua sat on a stool at the railing that separated the inn’s porch from the cobblestone street. Right by her side was a basket of blue flowers: regal, calming, pleasant. Radiant Garden was empty—the Realm wasn’t in the interest of reality. But that wasn't important right now. Aqua wanted this. She waited for this. 

The flowers by her side were yellow: vibrant, excitable, pleasant. She thought of Ven and where he was, and she worried about his sleep. Back then, she worried about who he followed and to where. But now he was safe, so in this fantasy, Ven was tucked away where he couldn’t be hurt. She trusted that. She could have this moment to herself, knowing that.

The flowers by her side were red: powerful, bountiful, pleasant. Aqua brushed her hair with her fingers, adjusted her sleeves and straightened her posture.

Terra finally arrived, his shoes stepping on the wooden steps with a crunch. 

Aqua’s heart pounded at the sight of him, pushing hard on the precipice of her esophagus. He's here. Aqua smiled and it hurt her cheeks.

“Like you promised,” she said.

“Like I promised,” he said. He smiled back, and Aqua could cry at the sight of it, if the Realm of Darkness allowed crying. But the Realm instead numbed the feeling out, even when she grasped for it to stay. 

She patted the stool next to her. He sat, but when he reached to touch her jaw, she said, “Don’t.”

Terra didn’t say anything. Just took his hand back. 

There was no use explaining herself to the Realm, but she said anyway, “If you touch me, you’ll disappear.”

She wished time would freeze at this moment: evening, where the sun and the stars shared the same sky before nightfall. She asked silently, so she had a phantom to talk to. But the Realm liked to tease.

Or maybe this was Aqua teasing herself. False hope in a manifestation because sometimes, only sometimes, she lost control of herself. 

“I’m sorry.” He rested his elbow on the railing, his chin on his hand. She loved him with this expression—like he was stopping himself from laughing. Confident (or cocky, depending on the day). And the way he looked at her with mischief... The Realm knew this—it stole this image from her mind so the Realm could package that and send her a gift. 

But not the gift of him staying. 

“No, I…” she said, then stopped herself. This was no use either, but the possibility (the reality, she should say, but that was too much of a bitter potion to swallow) that she was never going to see the real Terra again meant she would never get the chance to say this to him. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be sorry.” 

He smirked into his hand. Cocky, today. Her heart wanted to jump on him. Bring him into her arms and kiss him. “Are you?”

The Realm mimicked the teasing right. 

Aqua laughed before that faded. If only the Realm could provide her with food she could share with him, like a real date—she was never hungry, but she missed taste. Oh, she missed taste.

“Would you believe me if I said, Yes?,” she said seriously, and if he could push her right now, he would. And she would push back. 

Terra pretended to think. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay. How about this.” She tucked her hands under her thighs. “What if I said you, perhaps, kind of deserved it?” 

“Your snappery?”

“That is not a real word.”

Terra shrugged a shoulder. “Now it is.”

She leaned forward. The Realm even got the color of his eyes right. The color of the open ocean far from shore—deep, intimidating, gorgeous. “Submit that to the person who writes dictionaries first, and if they agree to add it, then you can claim that honor.”

He leaned forward, too, and his nose almost touched hers. Aqua frowned, jerking back. She almost lost him. 

“You don’t even know who that is, Aqua,” he went on, as if he didn’t register her reaction. “But if you find someone like that, you can introduce me.”

But she couldn’t get back into the mood, her hand gripping her chest. She staggered out of her seat.

Terra blinked, and slowly turned his head to where she was standing. The flowers by his side were black: stunning, foreboding, unpleasant. 

“What are you doing over there?”

She bit her lip shut. She had lost herself in his taunts when they weren’t real. This Terra wasn’t real. His voice wasn’t real either, just a figment of her imagination. The real Terra would ask her if she was okay.

“I wish you were real.” 

Terra stood up to come near, and Aqua stepped back, hitting her back to the wall, next to the doorway that would be the rest of the inn.

But the inn did not exist either. That door was locked. 

Terra, standing too close, raised his hands to rub her arms.

“Don’t touch me,” she whispered, and he stopped midair. “I can’t bear to see you disappear.”

“But I want to touch you.” 

Aqua’s heart twisted. Those were the exact words she wanted to hear again and again. He said them every single time, and every single time after he disappeared, Aqua tried to touch herself instead, but the Realm took that, too. Then she waited, and waited, and waited, to see him again. Most times, she was met with silence. This was rare. This was special. 

“Pretend to,” she said, and she closed her eyes as his fingers skated an inch over her skin. Almost touching, as he almost brushed her collarbone, and almost feathered over her lip, and almost glided over her cheek. “When we…” She swallowed. How was she supposed to move on from Terra? To keep every memory close to her heart so they wouldn’t erase, when time took small details away? She missed her wooden toy Keyblade. She wished she didn’t agree with the Master when he asked her to spy on Terra. 

“When we see each other again,” she said, not to this fake Terra, but the real one, “promise me you’ll touch me.”

“I promise.”

“Promise me we’ll get our own hiding place.”

“I promise.”

She needed to cry. This time, to the fake Terra, she said, “Promise me you’ll come next time.”

“I promise.”

Hovering his mouth near hers, Phantom Terra almost rested his forehead on hers. They stayed like this, frozen in place, trying to stretch the seconds into minutes. She wanted to feel alive, but she was dying. She pawned their relationship in the interest of knowing better, and it cost everything.

“I regret it so much,” she whispered. “Pushing you away.”

“So do I.”

Her heart was strong enough. She could survive this. She survived enough already. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

Aqua leaned forward to kiss him, but she kissed air. 

~*~

Outside the Realm of Darkness, there is no cure for crying.

Aqua sits on a boulder, leaning on her knees as she gazes at the white moon across the horizon. The waves roll from a gentle breeze that isn’t there, as if the ocean can think. It wants visitors to relax, to feel safe here. A respite from the phantoms—here within the Realm, and outside. The Realm of Darkness does have a compassionate side to it after all. Everyone deserves a place to rest and throw away all anxieties. After all, no one can have problems if all their life is made up just to look at the moon.

Aqua sighs and allows the Darkness to ease her into numbness.

Here, she won’t have to wait for anything anymore. All she has to eat is the peace of being in the present moment. A gentle ocean wave. A bright moon. She doesn't have to live in the Realm of Light when she access to it all the time, as it shines across the horizon.

Aqua’s heart jerks—the thought of Terra clouds over. She supposes that will be normal until she can learn to accept it for what it is.

Where is he now? Crying, probably. But he’s strong. And Ven is safe with him. What they both need is sleep, and that is going to take them time. 

Maybe she can visit at night, and make sure they are getting their proper sleep. If necessary, she has sleep spells. And when her heart can’t bear being that exposed anymore, she comes back home. 

This is a proper compromise. Ven has always wanted to explore other worlds. Now that he has the freedom, he will want a companion every now and again, and Aqua can go with him. Watch over him. Teach him some fighting techniques. She’ll watch him grow up. And when it’s too much, she’ll come back here, to her nest.

Terra? Again, Aqua’s heart twists. This is going to take longer to make peace with, but Aqua exhales. Eventually, letting him go will happen. Terra wants to follow in Eraqus’s footsteps. Open an academy and teach. Terra also wants a family, related by blood or not, and a partner. Aqua will have to give him her blessing to find someone else.

Stars, thinking about that stings, and Aqua winces. She waits for the Realm to ease the poison away, then she settles. Eventually, it will become easier to let him go. She has to trust that. 

Where is he now? In a different room, still crying about her? 

Deep in her chest cavity lurches, and Aqua grips her shirt over her heart. Her clones scamper around her, whispering to each other. Something is disturbing them, and Aqua rolls her eyes and clasps her ears shut to quiet them down. 

But they’re inside her head. There’s no turning down the volume. 

Third: Him. A pause, as if she’s convulsing, whimpering. He ruins everything.

Second: Look. It’s Earthshaker.

Aqua’s heart jumps. Looks to her right. Third is correct. Even here, Terra is the wound that never scabs over.

Second is also correct. Earthshaker is indeed with him, but updated into a behemoth. Terra limps on the sand, clutching his side. He needs to cast a Cure spell on himself, but instead of taking care of his body, he must have dragged his feet all the way here, thinking he doesn’t have the time to wait, when time doesn’t exist here. 

Terra catches sight of her, and he shuffles his feet to a half-run. 

Third: Throw him away. I can’t deal with this.

First floats down from the sky, and Terra prepares Earthshaker, in case she attacks. They recognize each other. She stalks around him like a predator, and Terra pivots, keeping his eyes on his target. 

Fourth joins them in a silent disagreement, using her body as a block, giving First a warning glare and giving Terra the opening to leave. Terra ignores all the other clones, heading towards Aqua.

Aqua braces herself, half-expecting Terra to stab her. Her fist flexes for the energy that beckons the Keyblade she stole from Mickey. 

“I’m not going to fight you,” Terra says, dismissing Earthshaker and dropping to his knees, sinking into sand. He sighs with relief and awe, smiling to his ears as if he’s tasting freedom. “It’s you.”

Aqua leans away from him. Her heart is pounding too much, too vibrant for a place like this. It erodes the numbness away when she’s needing to inhale it instead, and the Realm is too slow to act. 

How is she supposed to heal when he's here?

“You can’t be here.”

He crawls to her, placing his hands on her knees. His grin has no restraint. “Tada?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Lucky for me, I’m with an expert.”

Second: Won’t he stop?

Aqua lowers her voice. “I’m serious.”

He’s choosing his words, rubbing a reassuring thumb on the side of her thigh. Terra shuffles over on his hip to give his injury space. “It’s just for a little while. I wanted to check in on you. Is that okay?”

To spend time with him for a little while? A goodbye moment to share before she has to let go? It’s as if the stars on the other side of the Darkness heard a prayer she didn’t want to admit to herself. His smile asks her again without saying anything.

“Alright,” she says, sighing, keeping her hands to her stomach as a barricade. Terra winces from small movements. Aqua stops herself from reaching. She doesn’t have Cure magic anymore. “You need to heal yourself.”

“Oh. Right.” Terra snorts and casts Cure on himself, sighing with relief.

First: His attitude is not amusing.

Fourth: Yes, it is.

“How do you get home?”

“Ven is waiting for me.” Terra smirks something shy. “I have Stormfall with me.” 

Second: Ugh.

Aqua tightens her grip on her stomach. Her weapons are her words. “So you got what you wanted. I have a piece of you, and you have a piece of me.”

Terra sighs. Something in his mind clicks, and he accepts whatever it is he is realizing. He nods, and Aqua doesn’t understand what he’s submitting himself to. “That’s okay.”

Is it really? Terra is stubborn, and wants and wants and wants. Aqua chooses not to say anything, watching what he’s going to do next. She allows him to rest his head on her lap. 

First, scoffing: You’re suddenly a pillow.

Fourth: It’s nice.

Terra crosses his arms, and watches the water with her, in silence. That’s all they’re doing, sitting in silence together, pretending it’s comfortable when there is so much to say. Aqua fiddles with her fingers, not knowing what to do with them.

Fourth: Touch his hair.

First: Don’t touch his hair.

Aqua brushes his hair, and Terra relaxes, adjusting his face for a more cozy position. Invasion crawls over her, and she straddles between wanting to lose herself in the feeling of his body on her, and keeping herself reeled in. He’s mine. He’s here. He’s mine. I have him back. 

He stays. This, Aqua shouldn’t want. Aqua shouldn’t keep him here. Aqua shouldn’t hope this could work. 

He stays. For now. A little while. 

“I made a mirror of you,” Aqua says. 

Terra smiles—she feels his cheeks on her thigh. “I’ve met him. He’s not that good looking.”

“I wanted him to say all the right things. All the same things.”

“Then you’d never get annoyed, and that isn’t right.”

His humor. How she’s missed his humor. But she doesn’t like the way it wrenches her insides. To need him to keep her afloat, or need him to ground herself. 

How is this even happening? Aqua has kept herself afloat all this time. He isn’t a lifesaver and he shouldn’t be. 

But she’s drowning, and she wants him to throw her one.

Let’s say he doesn’t stay. It would easier for them both.

He doesn’t stay. That’s the final decision. And yet, Aqua is weaker now than she’s ever been.

“He said all the things I wanted you to say,” she says. 

Terra looks up at her. His eyes. In the dark, they’re the color of the ocean before them now. “Like what?”

That I’m beautiful. That you want me. That you’re sorry. “Everything you’ve already said,” she says, her voice breaking. 

Terra waits for her to say more, but he nods, and rests back on her lap. “That’s because I’m smart.”

Aqua scoffs. She wants to laugh, but she hasn’t in so long. She begins stroking his cheek with the back of her knuckles, and even though they’re cold, Terra doesn’t flinch. Terra accepts. 

First: Don’t say it.

Fourth: Oh my love, you know I want you happy. 

“I’ve missed you,” she says, exposing her very real vulnerability that is the same as exposing the meat of her throat to a knife.

Terra buries his nose into her thigh and inhales. “I’ve missed you, too.”

So they listen to the water in a comfortable silence, and Aqua’s clones keep their distance, watching them watch the ocean. Maybe this is it. Maybe Aqua won’t be alone. 

He stays. And Aqua hopes.

He shouldn’t, but Aqua hopes against that. 

He can’t.

He can, for a little while. Count ten minutes and it’s six hundred seconds. Plenty of time.

Then, as if Terra and Aqua are a gravitational pull, her clones float near. 

First comes near, but says nothing.

Second comes next, and also, doesn’t choose to say anything. 

Third peeks from behind Aqua’s shoulder. Don’t you feel that?

Second: Aren’t you noticing what’s happening?

First: My dear, look at what you’re doing to him. It’s going to hurt when you realize.

Aqua grits her teeth. Why is it always wrong for her to take one moment to feel content?

Fourth: No, she doesn’t want it to be real. 

“This place isn’t bad,” Terra says, sounding tired. “It’s kind of beautiful in its own way.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” he says, drifting like he’s about to sleep. “Away from all the insanity. Our own little hiding place.”

What he says seizes her, striking her out of a stupor and destroying all the good she has felt with him here.

No, what she has felt is neither good nor good for her. What she felt was perversion, that desperate need for a wish to come true at the expense of—  

This is not what it’s supposed to be. 

First: He’s staying.

Fourth: He’s staying. 

“Terra?”

“Hm?”

She shakes his shoulders. “Terra?”

Thirty-third says: He’s staying.

Twelfth: He’s staying.

Their arms reach out to take him. He shivers. “It’s so cold.”

“No. Terra. Wake up.” Terra head bobs and rolls over, and he doesn’t reply. “No, no, no, you can’t allow the Darkness to take you over. Fight it. Activate your armor.”

His breath grows shallow. “I don’t want to.”

Eighth: He’s ours now.

“Why?”

“I want to stay with you." He exhales. "I'm with you.”

“But you can’t.” But she wants him to. But she shouldn’t. There is no peace wishing him to be like her.

“I’ve made my peace with it,” he whispers. Closing his eyes, Terra finally faints, and a Dark mass bubbles from the ocean, crawling over his legs. Her clones creep closer, and Eleventh grabs his arm to lift him and take him to the water.

“Don’t touch him!” Aqua growls. She yells, and her Dark force breaks out of her body, pushing them all away. “Come on, Terra. Wake up. Wake up, please.” She wraps his arm around her shoulders, trying to get him to stand with her, but his weight is too much. “Call Earthshaker.” She holds his hand and tries to will him to summon it, but he’s out. 

First: My dear, if you let him go to the Darkness, it will ease your loneliness.

Fourth: If you let him go, you’ll hate yourself for it.

First: If you save him, you will hate yourself for it.

Fourth: If you save him, you won’t betray yourself.

“Ven!” Aqua calls out, dragging Terra away from the shore. The tide rises. “Ven! Can you hear me? Ven!”

She needs Stormfall, but she can’t summon it. 

She collapses. He’s too heavy to keep up without his intervention. Aqua rolls him over to clean his face and clear his passages of sand. Her clones are crows, circling above them in the air. She considers summoning that foreign Keyblade and… do what? If she makes another Door to Darkness to go back to the Realm of Light, Terra won’t be able to follow her. He is not Darkness, and can’t go back unless she allows this transformation to complete.

But she can’t allow this transformation to complete. She can’t do this to him. “Ven…” she whimpers, dragging Terra’s head to her chest. She attacks the Darkness spreading over his legs with her own Dark magic, but it won’t back off. Her essence is wrong. 

Everything is wrong. Aqua is in love.

“Ven, please.”

She holds him tight. "Terra, wake up," she whispers one last time. She's not numb anymore. Not in this moment. She burns deep in her core, something terrible and hot that she wishes would go away. She wishes she could grow numb again. But Aqua is also a hypocrite. She wishes he would smile at her and tell her he's fine. She wishes she could burn it all away. A single tear trickles down her cheek.

Light flickers in her periphery, but Aqua doesn’t see anything when she searches for it. 

Fourth: Look up. 

By the moon, in an empty space, a star ignites, blinking. Saying hello. Wayward Wind.

[terraquaweek]

Thank you all for participating in Terraqua Week!! It went by too fast. 😭

But it’s not over. @terraquadreams is hosting Spice Weekend starting tomorrow! 😍

Day 8 - Peek/Good morning

Day 9 - Denial/Worship

In the meantime, we dub today as catchup day for anybody still wanting to contribute!

Also, head on over to our Twitter account. We’ve got some beautiful art there.

Again, thank you all for participating. Until next time. 🧡💙

[mimiplaysgames]

The Bed Story, ch. 6 (Constellations)

Terraqua Day, Day 6

Terra/Aqua | Terra/Anti-Aqua Rating: M Word Count: 4,815 @terraquaweek

Summary: Terra meets Anti-Aqua, and he's sorry for the things they did and didn't do.

Read on AO3

A/N: I learned last night that AO3's new default is to NOT allow guests without accounts to comment on fics, and I didn't realize!! So I'm sorry if you wanted to comment and couldn't. I changed the settings and all should be good now... also no one judge me for what I put in this chapter lmao

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The Realm of Darkness presents itself as a warped imitation of the castle, suspended in space, the roofs completely torn away. The missing ceiling opens to the expanse of scratchy constellations across a purple sky. The bedrooms by Terra are shredded apart, suspended in an explosion, Ven’s bed frozen in the air before it can float away, strewn amidst boulders, books, and mementos the Master had given him from worlds beyond. Ven’s clock, spinning in place, ticks. The castle is at the brink.

The mirror Terra arrived through is black. No going back either.  

Terra feels… hollow, like a balloon. Air-headed, chill, from the crown of his head to his ankles, and it gives him a sense that his burdens are being lifted, and if he asks, he would receive all the secrets he’s ever wanted to know. The Realm of Darkness is immediately seductive, easing him into a place of security where his worries aren’t as devastating. There’s nothing to be concerned about here. No life problems. No such thing as self-esteem. It’s unsettling, but not unpleasant. 

But now that the Realm of Darkness has welcomed him in, like hands snaking up his arms, a perverted nothingness spreads over his body. Terra can’t feel. Terra can’t feel. He collapses to his knees and grunts. He slaps his own face over and over.

This numbing void is exactly the same as when Xehanort took over. Once there, then not. No sense of existence, and Terra yells to make sure he has a voice, hisses to make sure he hears, and refuses to blink to make sure he still sees. 

Help. 

Terra summons Stormfall and grips it tightly. Help. 

Stormfall is here, therefore Aqua is somewhere, and this knowledge tempers Terra’s freakout as he wills himself to breathe. Breathe. Nothing smells like anything, it’s stale really. But breathe. 

He’s breathing.

He’s here. 

He can hear himself wheeze, so he still exists. He exists. 

He exists.

And she is waiting.

After ten minutes, when Terra can quarter-trust he will not lose his eyesight, he uses Stormfall to leverage himself to stand. He decides not to dismiss it, to keep it by his side as he explores.

The castle halls are not the same. There are supposed to be portraits on the walls here of former Masters, but they are instead blank canvases. This door is not supposed to be here. This hall should only turn left—it does not open up to both directions. In places they shouldn’t be, there are mirrors, and Terra doesn’t have a reflection in any of them.

He hears—

Taps on glass. Terra swings over his shoulder with Stormfall for defense. To his left, an endless hallway. Ahead of him, a wall. To his right…

A mirror blocking the way, but through it... He sees her on the other side of the looking glass, with blue hair, tapping with her nails to get his attention.

Blue hair. His Aqua.

“Aqua!” He runs up to her.

Stormfall burns. Wincing, Terra nearly drops it.

“Terra.” 

Aqua presses her palms against the glass. Her face begs him to free her. “She locked me up in here.” 

“Don’t worry. I—” He hisses. Stormfall now squeezes his hand like it’s an iron clamp. Earthshaker has never done this before. “What’s wrong?”

Aqua smacks the glass with her palm. “Terra, there is something chasing me.”

Panic seizes Terra. The mirror separates his hand from hers. “I’ll let you out.”

Stormfall goes quiet, refusing. Dread now lurks in the back of his mind.

“Terra, hurry.”

Terra takes a good look at her. She’s untouched, her hair blue, her eyes that blue color he’s been dying to see again. Like the shallow end of the ocean, as the water blurs between sand and the foam of the waves. Terra has nearly forgotten this color. A between blue, a shade mixed of many hues that meet water and sky together. Terra wants to hold her face, kiss her, tell her he wants to look at this color forever. 

She doesn’t have pupils. She gently taps again. “I’m the Aqua she hides away.” She leans her forehead against the glass. “If we’re reunited, she’ll get better.”

But Stormfall doesn’t want to. Why? It should be easy. Break the glass, and set her free.

But Stormfall doesn’t want to, when he wants to see his blue-haired Aqua safe and smiling.

Her face goes limp at his hesitation. “You’ll leave me?”

Something is wrong. “I—”

“I need you,” she says, almost a question. “And you won’t help?”

Terra grits his teeth. He has to stay strong. In a place like this, his defenses have to be thick. Something is wrong. He should be able to sense her Light, but there is no essence standing before him. 

“Doesn’t that prove it?” she says, her voice lowering an octave. “Everything you know about yourself?”

A shadow sneaks up from behind her, predatory. Doesn't matter if she's not real. Terra grips Stormfall. His instinct is to strike the glass and rescue her from this new enemy.

This enemy wears Terra’s face. Blank expression, hypnotized. Mirror-Terra plants both his palms on the sides of Mirror-Aqua’s head with enough force that Terra jumps.

“You’re terrible to her,” Mirror-Aqua says, as Mirror-Terra wraps an arm around her waist and constricts her chest, pushing her against the glass with his body. “You’re terrible to me.”

Terra lets his mouth hang as Mirror-Terra fumbles with and nearly rips the corset. Terra should strike the glass and choke his double. 

“You would let him touch me like this?” Mirror-Aqua says, as Mirror-Terra grabs her by the throat and bites her earlobe. “You would let him hurt me?”

Terra, with his stomach churning, shakes his head and tries to tear his eyes away from the mess, but he can’t lose sight of a threat. 

Mirror-Terra kisses her neck and shoves a finger in her mouth, inhaling her hair while his pupil-less eyes glare at Terra. For a second, the mess stops, and Mirror-Aqua bites his finger back, suckering it into a kiss.

Mirror-Terra scowls. Terra is intruding, and he steps back to leave them alone, when Mirror-Terra punches the mirror.

The mirror cracks and Terra, startled, falls on his ass. Cold. Danger. Run. He grasps for purchase on the wooden floor, but there’s nothing for him to scramble away with, so Terra loses time by crawling, slipping, rising, tumbling, rising. Run. Gain distance. Steal an advantage. An explosion throws Terra forward, crashing him against a wall. 

“You would leave me,” he hears her say in his head as he clambers. The hall has shifted. The way back to the black mirror is gone. Terra has no choice of where to go except to follow as it twists. 

Around a corner, Terra stops and plants his feet, pressing his body against the wall so he isn’t seen as easily. With Stormfall, he will ambush his mirror self as soon as he comes near.

“You are leaving me.”

Mirror-Terra stalks him—

With a blurred shadow for a Keyblade. 

“You did leave me.”

Terra raises Stormfall and urges to attack, aiming for the clone, and throwing all his force into it like he would if he had Earthshaker. But Stormfall demands such control, such precision, that it doesn’t know what to do for a flailing, desperate Terra. 

So it answers with chaos. Terra’s spell detonates into a hundred fireworks that reach high for the constellations above. He shields himself. They rain light and fire, shredding open the walls, the floors, the mirrors.

The floor beneath him yawns. Terra falls down empty space, among shooting stars he cannot grab.

“You left me here,” she says, panting like she’s scared, when everything fades to black. “All by myself.” She’s right. He did. 

~*~

It’s not waking, it’s… consciousness. Terra is falling. Terra is no longer falling, suddenly lying on a dirt road that bends between lifeless trees, scorched black. Where is the light source coming from? Nowhere. Terra can simply see the gnarled, thick bodies of mangled branches in this darkness. Above him are different shredded constellations, like a ruined galaxy, across an angry, thundering red sky. 

Where he should feel injured, he simply doesn’t. Not a thing. 

Not a thing. Has he stopped existing?

Terra grabs his face and pulls his skin. Is he here? Slap. Is he real? He can’t inhale, can’t breathe. 

“Breathing isn’t real here,” someone whispers. “You’re not really out of breath.”

Terra jerks, rolling over to his knees and scrambling to shield himself behind a tree.

Did he lose—

No. Stormfall is right here, as soon as he summons it.

“Not that you breathing is ideal,” the whisper says, hovering in his head. “You’re easier to deal with dead.” A pause. “Easier to grieve.”

Terra stiffens, creeping closer to the tree trunk, trying not to give his location away. He brings Stormfall to his chest and listens for movement. 

How is he going to get out of this? Stormfall is not so different from Rainfell after all, being particular and cryptic with how he conjures. He needs to be able to hit his targets. He needs to rely on Aqua’s heart.

Maybe the chaos could work in his favor. Set these trees on fire. Blind the enemy. Run away. The real reason he’s here is to find Aqua. Not to waste time or energy fighting. 

The whispering person giggles. Terra’s heart beats. The laughter is Aqua’s.

He’s stupid. Has always been. Even more stupid when he rushes out of his hiding place and calls out, “Aqua?”

She’s perched up on the branch of a tree, surveying him, her crown of white like a dull star on these burnt trees. Terra staggers away while she floats down, her smoke like a dress drifting in the water, and when she lands, she lands with grace. 

“Nothing is real here,” she whispers. Then growls. “But everything is.”

The hairs on the back of his neck shrivel. This Aqua does not have pupils either, but he recognizes the primal fury in them, the way she’s keeping track of his arm placements, measuring his fighting stance, how she’s patient for his fear factor to cloud his judgment. This Aqua was the shadow he ran into in the hallway. The one Stormfall warned not to follow.

“I can help,” he says. Stupid thing to say to someone wanting to tear his throat out, but what else is going to say? “Take me to the real Aqua.”

“I’m not real?” As if triggered, she strides to him and Terra finds himself walking backwards, until his back hits a tree. He needs to retaliate. He needs to defend himself. Come on, Stormfall. Tell me what to do.

“You think Stormfall will hurt me?” With easy telepathy, This Aqua sends Stormfall away and stabs him with her claw, under his chin. “Move, and I will make you bleed.” At his shock, she nods. “Yes, you can bleed in the Realm of Darkness,” she whispers, breath on his lips. “You will bleed forever, and once you tire of it, you will wish to see me again, so I can stop it for you.”

Terra bites his lip and glares her down. 

She scoffs. “I’m telling the truth. You can trust us better than the mirror.”

Suddenly Terra can’t look at her anymore. It’s not her rage, it’s those images of Aqua sucking his finger. 

“Ah yes,” she whispers. “The Realm of Darkness has this habit.”

“I just need to see Aqua.”

“My dear is home. Safe. Protecting her from pain is my purpose.” She pressures his chin to lift it, until his entire throat is exposed. “Why should she go with you? I thought you cared about her.”

“I do.”

“I thought you would die for her.”

“I would.”

“But you didn’t.”

Terra swallows, and with her index claw still jabbed under his jaw, she scrapes the claw from her thumb to stop him midway. He chokes. “But I would.”

“Then why do you want her in pain? Why should she follow you?” 

Terra grits his teeth. He tries to lower his head to look at her, but she won’t let him. “She hurts here.”

“She hurts worse with you.”

What stings is not the knife of her claws anymore, but the strangulation in his heart. He’s known for a while now, and he’s tried to deny it, blaming it on Aqua's condition. She hurts worse with him. That has always been the truth.

“I didn’t mean to.” Terra wants to cry but the Realm has taken that away, too. No release and no relief. “But I’ll make it right somehow. You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to. I can find her.”

But that promise doesn’t quell this monster.

This Aqua lets him go, grabs his throat, slams his head onto the bark. 

“You were going to use Stormfall?” She squeezes his throat. “You want Aqua’s heart to do the legwork for you?”

“No—”

“Where is your heart?” She twists, making his head jerk sideways. “Where is your courage leading you to her? Why won’t you work to find her, instead of relying on such a tired Keyblade?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never meant any of this. “I’m sorry.”

“You want to know what it was like?” she hisses, her moons for eyes inching to his nose. “All this time? I hated dreaming of being alone, because you were never there. And I hated dreaming of being with you, because you weren’t there either.” 

With her free hand, she stabs her entire claw into his chest. Terra groans—from pain? From shock? From panic?

“You never came to save me,” she whispers, shooting at Terra all the things Aqua probably doesn’t have the will to spit at him. She squeezes his heart, and Terra’s body explodes in tremors. The pain. He squirms, whimpering. “I risked myself for you. I said my goodbyes as I sank into Darkness. I asked for a tomorrow with you, and you never came.”

Terra spits, and drools. 

“I adored you,” she says.

Terra whimpers.

“You left me.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re finally here, and you need Stormfall now. You need, and you need, and you need—”

Instinct, or the desire to live, calls Stormfall. Terra slices upward. Ice stabs the air in waves as This Aqua dodges. Terra staggers to his knees. His chest—stars, his chest spasms. It’s seeping, and Terra clutches it thinking it’s blood, but it’s Darkness. Oozing, bubbling Darkness. 

This Aqua stalks near and Terra swings Stormfall in any direction. Get away from me. 

He sweeps. More ice. More power, bigger glaciers. Get away from me.

He strikes the ground. More ice, spreading like a disease. Help me, Stormfall. 

Stormfall says, Go there.

Where? 

Stormfall doesn’t answer, too quiet in the madness. Terra limps under branches pulling his hair as This Aqua screams and broils the trees in a massive purple fire. Heartless skirmish near his feet, but Terra can’t fight right now, dragging his feet. Something’s wrong. The Darkness that pools out from his heart doesn’t stop its downpour, and Terra has the mind he’s going to bleed out. But it’s not blood. But is it? 

He squeezes his body between a fissure between twigs and rock, as the Darkfire rages behind him. It opens up to a clearing, a safe enough escape from the flames. For now. He loses his footing, and collapses on some rocks. He keeps Stormfall close to him, in case a predator gets too near. 

He has to stop this “bleeding.” He has to be strong enough to continue. He has to find her. He has to—

He considers stabbing himself with Stormfall. Take this Darkness out of me. I don’t want it. Sew me back together. Give me a piece of Aqua so I don’t forget her and the Realm can’t take advantage of me. Then I’ll be stronger, strong enough to find her. 

Thunder roars, and the clouds overhead gather and twist together in a cyclone. A tornado pulls down from gravity, and at its open tip is Aqua, spinning until she lands on the ground, at his feet.

Another clone, also pupil-less. Terra shuffles back, limping on his side, but he can only go so far. 

“Don’t listen to her,” This Other Aqua whispers. She’s the one he met in the study. “She’s overprotective.”

He aims with Stormfall. “Stay away from me.”

“That’s no way to speak to me.” She strides up to him, stopping at his hips. “You must forgive her. She is scared because all she knows is losing you.”

“And you?”

“Me?” She kneels, crossing her arms at her knees and inspecting Terra’s wound. Red lightning strikes the sky over this barren land. “I’m afraid of losing you, too.”

How she says it has a very different connotation. Hope. “I need help.”

“I know.”

He lowers his weapon. “You know Stormfall better than I do.”

“You know Stormfall just as well.” She shrugs. “Yes. It’s tired… It also doesn’t appreciate tomfoolery.” 

Terra coughs. “That mirror clone was scary enough.”

“That was a problem you created.” She chuckles, and it’s Aqua’s, but foreign. “Don’t take my word for it, though. You can’t really trust any of us. We’re all ravenous.”

Numbness crawls up Terra’s neck—a different kind, the one that comes with fainting. His head bobs, but This Other Aqua catches him, kneeling behind him and holding his back to her chest, supporting him. 

“I have to finish what she started,” she whispers into his ear.

Terra tries to pull away from her, but he doesn’t have the strength. “Don’t.”

She brushes his hair aside, and rests her nose on his temple. “But I must. Or you fall.”

Terra rolls Stormfall in his grip. “Stormfall won’t let me.”

This Other Aqua presses her cheek against his. “Stormfall can only go so far. Someone else can only believe in you so much, before your lack of faith in yourself fails you. Then they can’t help you at all.” 

“Stormfall won’t abandon me.”

“Stormfall didn’t.” Terra feels her smirking against his cheek. “It led you to me.” She kisses his cheek, her lips an ice cube on his face before it fades away. “I’m like you.” Kiss, on his temple. “My purpose is to find her little bits of happiness.” Kiss. “Wherever they are.” Kiss, near his ear. “She’s too sad otherwise. She needs reasons to keep going.”

The soreness at his chest throbs. He wants to hope that is true, but false hope is exhausting. “That other one said Aqua hurts more around me.”

The clone smells his hair. “She does.” Kiss, on his hair. “But she’s so much happier with you, too. Therefore…” Kiss, on his eyebrow. “I keep you alive.”

Her claws enter his chest, and Terra howls.

“Shhh. You don’t want to alert the Heartless.”

She pulls, and the pressure tears with such sharpness that Terra nearly blacks out. But after the ripping, Terra relaxes, the poison and rot expelled. Out of his chest, in her fist, beats a throbbing heart of Darkness, drenched in smokey slime. 

“She is right about one thing,” This Other Aqua whispers. “Nothing is real, but everything is.”

“My heart?” he mumbles.

“No. But yes. I can’t actually pull it out. That is not real. But it’s been speaking to you, and you won’t listen.” She squeezes the heart and it oozes. “This is real. And this is the perfect place to talk.”

“Please, no.”

“You must. You have to look in the mirror sometime.” 

“Mmmnh.” His tongue is too thick.

“A word of warning,” she whispers into his ear, as the slime dribbles to the ground and starts bubbling. “The water is a grave. Unless you have control over the earth, you need someone else to dig you out.” 

The heart on the ground grows and stretches. Massive hands grasp the dirt, followed by giant arms, veins bulging. 

“One final warning,” This Other Aqua says, and she sounds regretful, wrapping him with her arms from behind. “Be kind to your heart. She isn’t to hers.”

She slips away. Terra tries grabbing her wrist but his hand passes through air. “Wait.”

“Haven’t we waited long enough already?” 

“Does she want to forget me?” He sits up—a little dizzy, but better. “Is that why she’s here?”

This Other Aqua furrows her brows. It’s near the same look Aqua gives when she’s about to cry, save for the permanent frown that reads as disapproval. The clone mimics her well, holding a hand to her heart. She leans forward to kiss him on the lips, and when he tries to hold her by the jaw, nothing gives. 

“That would be the purest form of bliss, wouldn’t it? Forget, and there’s nothing left to grieve.” She rubs her frigid thumb on his lip. “But it’s not my purpose to suggest things that hurt her, anyway.”

By the time the convulsing mass grows horns Terra is all too familiar with, she’s gone. 

Terra isn’t sure what either of these Aqua’s expect from him. All he has is a tired Stormfall, and in the small moment of silence he takes before the Guardian fully takes form, Terra realizes he’s been selfish. He hasn’t listened to himself. He hasn’t listened to Aqua, either. As much as Aqua’s Stormfall wants to help, Terra took that offer and dragged it. His compass is spinning because Aqua is spinning, and it’s up to Terra to see it straight. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells Stormfall, as he prepares his stance. “Just one more fight, and I won’t ask you for anything else.”

Terra has never actually seen the Guardian. He’s felt it—the chasm that nullifies all feeling deep in the chest. The bondage across the mouth, removing his voice, which suppressed his existence. But Terra has never realized what misery looked like except in the face of something like the Guardian, wishing to die to be rid of the pain. How that wish was denied over and over, leaving this portrait of rage against everything. The same face on Aqua, now.

So this is Terra’s mirror. And he should be kind. “Should I give you words of encouragement?” he spit. “I forgive you?” 

The Guardian growls, growing bigger, its chest swelling.

“You made mistakes? It wasn’t your fault?” 

The Guardian slams its fists onto the ground, and Terra is too slow to dodge, collapsing to his knees. His ankle sinks into the dirt.  

“I love you?” He pants. He can’t. Terra doesn’t love Terra.

He groans as he swings Stormfall, trusting it to protect them both. 

Light explodes just as Guardian plunges to take Terra, and it tears the two apart. Terra is thrown back, hitting his shoulder against a boulder. Guardian recovers and flies into the sky.

Stars, that’s the worst advantage. Terra has to run for cover. Somewhere. Anywhere. But when he steps off the rocks— 

The field is flooding with water, rising up to his knees. He needs higher ground. 

The Guardian swoops down to grab him. Terra slices up, light and fire and ice all at once. The Guardian screeches and flies up. 

Terra can’t do this forever. The Guardian is a vulture, waiting for Terra to tire out. The more it distracts Terra with almost-kidnapping, Terra is wasting time in water that is up to his chest now. 

The Guardian is smart enough to figure it out eventually. It dives into the water, and, with Terra’s pulse slamming in his ears as he scrambles for purchase on the canyons above, the Guardian snatches his ankle and pulls him under.

Where there was ground and dirt that once supported Terra, now there isn’t. The water opens up to an endless black deep. Terra can’t determine where the Guardian is without its glowing eyes swimming around like a shark. 

Terra is earth, though. He’ll dig himself out. He can trust Stormfall. 

Just one straight shot, between the eyes. Terra aims.

Turns out, he can’t trust his judgment. In the water, nothing is real, but everything is. The eyes he aimed for are an illusion, and the real Guardian grabs Terra by the face from behind and tears Stormfall from his grip. In seconds that seem like minutes as Terra thrashes for Aqua’s Keyblade, Stormfall sinks into the depths. 

Terra should have known better which eyes were the real ones. It’s his own heart, after all, the one he’s not listening to. The Guardian squeezes his face, and Terra screams. But his voice has been taken, bubbles gurgling out of his throat. He tries to summon Stormfall, but it’s tired, and he’s voiceless. 

The Guardian, lifting him by the face like picking up a sheet of parchment, dangles Terra, leaving him dizzy. Terra can hear it growl, but instead of rage, he hears the cry of neglect, like a child begging a parent. A small voice. Something about being alone. Something about this being his fault. Something having a star, and losing it, and needing another one. 

The Guardian sinks into the depths, pulling Terra down. Terra moans. 

Something about the Master. Something else about the Master that Terra doesn’t want to hear. Something once more. Please save me, Master.

It’s so dark down here. Terra can make out the Guardian’s real eyes, and a croak that sounds like the castle bending its timber into pieces.

The Guardian’s jaw locks and shifts. The bondages trap its teeth, and it can’t speak. 

Which is why it won’t let Terra talk either. Please don’t talk over me. Please just listen. 

Terra grabs the bandages, and it takes effort to tear them apart in the water, but he does. Untangle one. Tear the second. Without them, the Guardian looks less gruesome and more despairing.

And what the Guardian says to Terra is, “I can’t. Please tell me what to do.”

The one question Terra had asked for the last twelve years, asking someone to tell him what to do and how to fix this.

In the black depths, there are other eyes waiting for them, large ones and tiny ones, in the murk. 

Why did Terra hope to win the Mark of Mastery?

Why did Terra hope to change the Master’s mind?

Why did Terra hope to be with Aqua?

Why does Terra keep hoping to be with Aqua?

Why does Terra hope for a future like the past?

Why does Terra hope for a cure that takes hope away? Disappointment is a pain too indescribable sometimes.

But this is what no-hope does: create a monster like the Guardian. It creates Aqua as she is now. It spells defeat, like when Terra threw away his hope to be Master and put his desperation in Xehanort instead.

If this is going to be his final conscious moment, Terra can at least do one last thing he could be proud of. He reaches into the Guardian’s void and offers his hope away. If the Guardian is going to wander aimlessly around the Realm of Darkness, it deserves to know what it feels like. It deserves to believe it can escape these depths, and dig its own way out. Take power back. Time to determine your own choices.

That’s the only reason to have hope. To find the spot to place your next step. For twelve years, Terra didn't have that.

Inside the void, Terra grabs something solid. It burns. Terra pulls away, but whatever it is doesn’t want him to let go. 

He pulls.

It won’t budge.

He pulls.

Pull harder. 

The moment Terra understands it, the Guardian swells. With hope.

You can do better than that, Terra’s Keyblade says.

Terra grunts. Yelling, he pulls.

A pillar of Light bursts out of the Guardian. All the eyes stalking them scatter away. 

Earthshaker—no, that’s not its name anymore; this one is thicker, taller, more of a fiend than a burden—sears in Terra’s grip, demanding him to hold on. Demanding him to look at his reflection in the blade.

Demanding him to tell himself, I am capable. 

“You’re capable,” Terra says as the Guardian sighs, dissolving into sparkles.

I am strong.

“You’re—” Terra chokes. “You’re strong.”

I’m powerful. 

Terra grits his teeth. No. All that time feeding into this wretched denial that he was not Aqua’s equal when that wasn’t true, and those years chasing after a lie he told himself. He’d trade them all if it changed things. “It’s not about that anymore.” He swallows a sob. “It’s about doing whatever it takes. For them. Aqua and Ven. It’s for them.”

The Light building up from his Keyblade breaks the surface open. Terra is no longer in the water but in the sky, swimming among a cascade of shooting stars and a rain of constellations. 

This is an indestructible thread Terra can follow, all the way to Aqua. His own compass.

Earthshaker wanted to be good enough. Ends of the Earth wants to protect.

[terraquaweek]

It’s our last day of the main event!! Time passed by too quickly. 🧡💙

Finally, it’s time to keep to your OATHS. 🤝💍🫂

We’ll post one more time tomorrow but thank you all for sticking by us for 2024!

[a-crack-in-the-universe]

Shadows

Terraqua Week Day 5 - Shadows

@terraquaweek

It had been over a year since they’d been reunited, but Aqua and Terra still weren’t as close as Aqua would’ve liked them to be. Long ago, they’d told each other almost everything. But now… She sighed. They’d been separated for ten years, had changed so much, and there was a distance between them that she didn’t know how to bridge. They smiled and laughed and made casual conversation, but they didn’t tell each other their secrets, spend time alone together or do whatever close best friends usually did. It was like there was a barrier between them.     

She’d tried to approach Terra, but either he would avoid her, or she would chicken out at the last moment and walk away. Truthfully, part of her was hesitant to confront him about his issues, because it would mean that he could confront her about her own issues, which she wasn’t sure if she was ready for. Usually, she would let him have his space, but she was also worried about him. She knew from Ven that Terra wasn’t speaking much with him either.

She needed to figure out a way to get Terra to finally talk to her, and she thought she knew the one person who could help her. Namine.

She hadn’t meant to, but she’d overheard a snippet of Terra and Namine talking, and so she knew that Terra was meeting with Namine. That stung a bit, though she tried not to take it personally. Terra could talk to whoever he wanted, but, well, she wished he would talk to her first and not Namine, damn it. But if he was speaking with Namine, perhaps Namine could give her some advice on how to get Terra to talk to her. So one day she decided to pay the younger blonde girl a visit in Twilight Town.       

She found Namine sitting cross-legged outside the Twilight Town Mansion.

‘Hello, Aqua,’ the blonde-haired girl smiled up at her from where she sat on the grass, drawing. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘You’re friends with Terra, right?’ Aqua flushed slightly. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spy, but saw you and Terra talking one time in the Land of Departure.’

Namine didn’t seem to mind. She nodded, smiling. ‘Yes, we’re special friends.’

‘I… need some advice,’ Aqua admitted. ‘It’s about Terra.’ Seeing the question in Namine’s eyes, she added, ‘Nothing’s wrong with him, it’s just that I feel like he’s avoiding me, and I don’t know how to convince him to open up. Since you’re friends with him, I thought you might know anything I could do…’

‘If Terra isn’t ready to tell you his story yet, I’m not sure you can force him,’ Namine said. ‘You of all people should know how hard it is to speak about painful truths.’

Aqua flushed, then sighed. ‘I know. I’m just worried about him. I’ve tried to be patient and wait for him to be ready, but it doesn’t feel like it’s working. I just want him to talk to me.’

Namine sighed. ‘I understand, but I won’t tell his story for him. It’s something he has to do for himself.’

‘But he talks to you about it,’ Aqua said. ‘Why?’

Namine smiled sadly at her. ‘It may be because I already know what he’s been through, so it’s easier for him to open up to me. I visited him in his memories while he was… trapped, and we formed a connection. We were both lost and alone and I think it helped to have someone who knew what the other was going through.’       

She hesitated, then added, ‘I won’t tell his story for him, but I’ll say this, what he endured was so difficult. I’m not surprised he hasn’t spoken of it to you yet. I am not making light of what you went through—I know it must have been just as terrible. But Terra, he’d lost his body and heart, and he was at the mercy of Master Xehanort. It’s a different kind of terrible, not knowing if you’ll ever truly exist and be free again.’

Aqua thought about that. Yes, she thought, Namine was right. It was a different kind of terrible fate. Being trapped in the Realm of Darkness was horrible and she would never wish it on anyone, but it was different to what Terra had endured. Equally horrible, but different. She wasn’t sure she’d ever understand what it was like to lose one’s body and agency. Or what it was like to be forced to serve your abuser.  

‘He hasn’t told me much about that time,’ Aqua said quietly. ‘I know he’s been through a lot, just like I have. I met him a few brief times when I was in the Realm of Darkness and it always hurt me to see how worn down and depressed he looked. I’m not sure if he’ll ever want to tell me anything.’    

‘He will tell you someday,’ Namine reassured her. ‘But you may need to take the first step.’

‘I’ll try,’ she said. ‘But I can’t promise anything.’ It takes two to tango, after all, she thought grimly. If Terra didn’t want to share his burdens with her, there wasn’t anything she could do.

‘He does love you a lot,’ Namine said, as Aqua was about to leave. ‘I saw it whenever I connected to him through his memories. His memories of you were a beautiful warm golden colour.'

Somehow, that warmed Aqua’s heart greatly, and stayed with her when she returned to the Land of Departure. If Terra cared that much, then there was still hope.

She didn’t seek him out straight away, for he was away in Radiant Garden, buying groceries for their home and speaking with Ansem the Wise and his apprentices. But she waited cross-legged on the floor outside his bedroom until he came back and almost tripped over her while trying to enter. He stared at her in surprise as he noticed her.    

She took a deep breath and said, ‘We need to talk.’       

He looked at her for a long moment, saw the determination in her eyes. Then his shoulders slumped and he nodded. ‘Yeah, I guess we do.’

‘We’ve been avoiding each other for too long,’ she said, when they were sitting on Terra’s bed. ‘I know things have been weird between us, even before we were separated, and it’s hard to talk about some things. But I miss you, Terra, and I’m tired of it. I just want us back.’

She blinked back the tears that suddenly stung her eyes. Please, she thought, I just want my best friend back.

Terra stared at her, then looked away. ‘I know, I feel the same way. But it’s just so hard. It’s easier to avoid you, then I don’t have to face all of the pain I caused you.’

‘You didn’t cause me any pain,’ she whispered. ‘It was my choice to stay in the Realm of Darkness. I did it for you, to save you. I couldn’t let you fall to darkness.’

‘You wouldn’t have had to make that sacrifice if I hadn’t stupidly gotten myself possessed by Xehanort,’ Terra said bitterly. ‘So it was my fault, in a way. And you didn’t save me, not really. I was still under Xehanort’s control and had to watch as he brought ruin to so many worlds. And—’ He looked at her and hesitated, clearly unsure if he should say any more.

Aqua put a hand on his arm. She couldn’t let them go back to avoiding each other and their problems—after all, that was what brought them to this point in the first place.  

‘Just tell me,’ she urged him. ‘We can’t keep avoiding each other like this and not sharing our problems. Whatever it is you need to say, I can handle it. Besides, it might help to share the burden.’

He let out a sudden breath and nodded. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I’ll try to explain. You were in the Realm of Darkness, but at least you had your body. I didn’t really exist, except as the Heartless that was always behind Xehanort. Sometimes my consciousness wasn’t even aware of the real world—it was stuck in a void of--of Nothingness, I guess. It was like darkness, but also not. A world without Darkness or Light. And in the void, pain and sorrow and anger washed over me and I couldn’t do anything except writhe in agony. But then Xehanort would come, and it became worse. He’d use my heart to hurt people. I tried to resist, but I couldn’t quite do it, and it hurt so much. I was… helpless.’

Oh, Terra… Aqua couldn’t help but try to hold his hand, but Terra moved his hand out of her reach and looked away.              

‘I was alone for so long, and then Namine found me,’ Terra continued. ‘She called herself a witch and said that she’d found me by following the memories belonging to those I’d met in the past. She asked me to guide you, and I did. I thought that would be it, but she came back to see me, again and again. Sometimes it was hard to tell if I still existed or not, because I didn’t even have a body, but she reminded me that I did exist, and that there was still hope for me. That I needed to keep fighting.’        

‘I spoke to her earlier today,’ Aqua admitted. ‘She’s a good person.’

‘She is,’ Terra agreed. ‘She helped me see the light, when I was lost and alone and in pain. I don’t think I could have made my way back to you and Ven if it weren’t for her. Sora helped me break free in the end, but Namine helped me find my way back. I owe her so much.’

There was a lot of warmth in his voice when he spoke of Namine.     

‘She said you’re friends,’ Aqua said. ‘And that you made a connection with each other while you were both gone.’

‘We are,’ Terra said. ‘We’re good friends. I’m not sure how it happened exactly. I think we just connected. When I first met her, she still had a body, but the last few times, she had lost herself, like I had. She would follow the chain of memories to find me, sometimes right when I was beginning to forget I ever existed. I think—I like to think we gave each other heart and strength.’

Aqua reached out to hold his hand and squeezed it gently. This time Terra let her. ‘You did, I’m sure of it,’ she said. ‘You’re both here now, after all, so it must have worked.’

‘You really think so?’ he asked her shyly.

‘Yeah.’

She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

‘Thank you for sharing with me,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad you’re here now, that you were able to find your way back to us. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

‘You’re one of the strongest people I know, Aqua. You would’ve managed,’ he said. ‘I know you would have.’

‘Yes, I probably would have,’ she agreed. ‘I would have survived. But it wouldn’t have been the same without you. I missed you so much while you were gone, and I know Ven did too. If you were gone forever, if you hadn’t been able to come back, it would’ve been devastating for us. And for me.’   

Tears glinted in Terra’s eyes, even as he smiled at her. And then she hugged him. Terra started in surprise at it, but after a moment he relaxed completely and returned her embrace. It felt so right, for both of them, and Aqua couldn’t help but smile widely, joy filling her heart up to the brim.

‘So, are we okay?’ she murmured. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’

She felt Terra laugh quietly. ‘Yeah, I think we are.’

‘Good.’

[mimiplaysgames]

The Bed Story, ch. 5 (Shadows)

Terraqua Week, Day 5

Terra/Aqua | Terra/Anti-Aqua Rating: M Word Count: 4,123 @terraquaweek

Summary: Terra meets Anti-Aqua, and he's sorry for the things they did and didn't do.

Read on AO3

A/N: Lol you know how I said I blurred the line between NSFW and SFW? lol

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Laying on his bed, with his head toward the windowsill, Terra gazed up at the stars. The Land of Departure existed on a nexus between Light and Dark, so the constellations changed every few weeks, as if the entire sky orbited the Departure's axis. Terra, Aqua and Ven often spent nights naming new ones, and Terra had never seen one reappear. That was how many worlds were out there. 

So many worlds, and Aqua apparently found one, with trees that grew star shaped fruit. She made him and Ven Wayfinders in their image, so they always felt connected. It was the first time he and Aqua had spoken since... Tasting each other. Aqua played it cool, pretending like nothing happened when she offered Terra the orange Wayfinder. 

Of course, in the weeks between, Ven noticed something was off, and Terra said they were too busy studying for the exam. When Ven pointed out that they should be practicing by sparring each other, apparently Aqua told him the Mark of Mastery included solo performances of their magic, which she lacked at. Terra pretended to agree. 

Terra and Aqua both sparred instead with Ven, each, making appointments. 

Ven was smart enough not to be convinced. “You guys are always in competition with each other. Pssh. Fighting over me.”

Terra told Ven to shut it. So Ven did. 

Terra held his Wayfinder over his head. Light from his ceiling lamp pierced through the orange stained glass. Aqua took so much time, with so much care, to bend the metal holding the glass together, and making it all symmetrical. Terra had no idea she was up to this. She must have lost sleep.

Someone knocked on his door.

Must be Ven. “Come in.”

It was Aqua. She closed the door behind her, and leaned against the wood. Terra… should he stay on his bed? Was that awkward? He stood up. Should he sit at his desk? Was that awkward?

Stars, it was awkward to gape at her. “Aqua.” His voice trembled.

Aqua bit her lip (stars), tucked her hair behind her ear (stars), and her hair, of course, didn’t stay (stars, his lower stomach ached for her).

“I think we should talk,” she said.

Terra smirked. “The night before the exam. Perfect timing,” he muttered, but loud enough for her to hear.

She flinched. “I didn’t think it was right that we kept up the silent treatment. We are dueling tomorrow. We need this out of the way.”

That warmth in his stomach turned cold, and now was heat across his forehead. He walked to his desk to give his hands something to do, and he placed his Wayfinder on his desk. “Whose fault was that?”

“Mine.”

Terra wasn’t expecting her to admit it so quickly. One hand leaning on his chair, the other gripping his hip. He still didn’t know what to do with them. “Well, thanks. I appreciate the non-apology.” He meant it in jest, giving her a simple, small, gentle smile to thaw the situation. 

Aqua didn’t smile back. “I, um, I asked Ven if I could hold his Keyblade.”

Terra nearly coughed. “And?”

“Nothing happened.” She fiddled with her fingers. “Wayward Wind was sweet. Generous and open-minded. I didn’t have trouble casting spells with it, and nothing serious happened.” She swallowed, and blushed. “Intention, I believe, plays a large role in handling Keyblades that aren’t yours. Everything was innocent. There is nothing between Ven and me.”

Terra’s heart pounded. Ridiculously hard. Hope was a treachery sometimes. “Are… you saying there’s something between us?”

Aqua didn’t answer. Her breath stumbled as she tried to say something, but every time she started, she clamped her mouth shut. She stared holes into the carpet. And blushed. 

With urgency, she walked up to Terra, then stopped, her hands at her chin. Terra caught the smell of lavender. Just showered. 

Aqua pressed her palm on his chest, glanced into his eyes, summoned Rainfell, and slid the hilt to his limp hand. 

She breathed deeply and closed her eyes when he grabbed it. Touch me, Rainfell said to him, so he squeezed it. Touch me, it pleaded. 

He glided fingers over her wrists. Then her forearm, sneaking under her sleeves like they’re hiding something. No, not there, Rainfell said. 

Aqua inched closer, her eyes still closed, soaking his touch as brought his fingers to her shoulder, to the edge of her collarbone, up her neck and to her jaw. Her skin was soft.

Not there either. You know where.

He brought them down to her waist and over, and slipped them underneath the X-shaped straps on her bare back. He wanted her clothes off. He wanted to feel more.

Her eyes were closed, and her lips were slightly open, waiting. He almost kissed her, but perhaps he took too much time, as Aqua kissed him instead, desperately inviting his tongue, with her arms around his neck. Terra’s heart never beat so fast, fast, fast, yes, this was everything he wanted.

“Summon Earthshaker,” she whispered in his ear. 

He did, and when she grabbed its hilt, he moaned. Between his legs throbbed, and she understood, pressing her body against his. She tore his armor from his arm; he slipped her sleeves off. She untangled his suspenders, and he unbuckled her straps, then they crashed back together. Disconnected again to take his shirt off, crashed, as her hands explored the eloquence of the work he put into his muscles.

Earthshaker spoke to her. Terra knew what it said: I want to have you. I want to keep you.

What would the Master think about them using their Keyblades this way? 

Don’t think about the Master.

Aqua… pushed? She grabbed his arms. Pushed them. Pulled them back. 

Terra snorted. “Aqua, if you let me touch you, I promise I will.”

Visibly frustrated with him interrupting things, she pushed him. On fighting reflex from years of sparring with her, Terra grabbed her wrist. Rainfell liked that.

He pulled her to him and kissed her, needing her tongue, and again, he felt her pressure on his chest as if she was going to push him again. 

He laughed into her mouth. “I don’t know what you’re doing. I’m stronger than you. I’ll fight back.”

Rainfell vibrated. Oh. 

“Prove it,” she says.

Aqua liked him strong, and Terra liked that she admired his strength. 

Liked it? He ate it. She was strong, too, a good challenge to wrestle with—something he was sure to win. 

He dropped Rainfell and picked her up. She dropped Earthshaker to dig both her hands into his hair. Legs wrapped around his waist, Aqua sighed into his lips, and he took her to his bed, making sure to pin her wrists to his sheets, pin her chest with his, pin her hips with his. She whimpered with need as she pressed her hips up against him, but he was the one on top. And he won. He moaned with her.

“Why do you wear this?” Terra said, his voice coarse, as he fumbled with the bows of her corset. 

“Take it off.”

Terra laughed into her, and she laughed back. “I’m trying. You make it more complicated than it should be.”

“Or maybe you should be more dexterous.” Like her? She was flexible, urging him on with her leg wrapped around his hip. She clawed at her corset. 

“Or maybe you should have planned ahead.”

“Or maybe you should stop stalling and take it off.”

They had to disconnect to slip the corset over her head, and there was that void, quickly remedied when Terra came down to kiss her, hard, losing himself in her lips.

Shhh, Ven will hear us, she said. The door is closed, he said. Still, shhh.

Softly, tenderly, slow. Following her lead, they kissed with care, fitting their lips before really feeling. Slower. She breathed his breath, running her hands over the slops of his shoulders. With his eyes open, Aqua was beautiful. Closed, she was stunning. And like this, as she kissed the dip between his throat and his jaw—who was Terra fooling? She won. If she asked him to turn over to his back, or bow on his knees, he would gladly forfeit. 

Terra tested her skin as he slipped his hungry touch under her shirt, drinking the curve of her waist, tasting the expanse of her stomach. He wanted more, bringing two tips of two fingers down, just under the hem of her shorts—

The bell rang. Terra lunged off of her while she gasped. 

“Is that…?” She stayed on his bed, staring at the ceiling in shock. “That can’t be.”

“It’s midnight.” Terra panted, sitting next to her and wiping his neck of sweat.

“No, no, no. How did time pass that quickly?” She stood up and paced.

When you’re having fun. Terra smirked.

“Master Xehanort arrives early in the morning,” she said, pacing. “We need a full night’s sleep.” Pacing. “What are we going to do?” Pacing. “How am I supposed to sleep like this?”

“You could stay.” 

She hid her face in her hands. “Is… is that a good idea?” she said in a way that told him she wanted exactly that.

“No.” Unfortunately. “It’s a terrible idea.” And it ached him to say so. If she stayed with him, they would spend all night learning each other. 

Aqua groaned. She looked up as he giggled. “Don’t tell me it will be easy for you to fall asleep.”

With the yearning between his legs, absolutely not. “Come on. I’ll make us some tea.”

“Thank you.” She turned to open the door, then glanced back at him. She blushed. “Put your shirt back on.”

Lanterns lit up the castle as they headed toward the kitchen. They cast shadows in star shapes over the ceilings, and drew off color from the stained glass like paint across the floor. They served as guides, so no one got lost in the dark.

Terra wanted the void gone, so he offered his hand. Aqua took it. 

They kept the kitchen dark as if to hide their secret. Terra heated the kettle with a Fire spell, and seeped lavender, chamomile, and essence of black dragons. Aqua leaned against the island as she took a mug. Terra opposite of her, against the counter. 

Now it was awkward to bring up a normal conversation. Aqua sighed after taking a sip, relaxing.

“I’m glad it helped,” Terra said, not sure what else to say. 

Aqua watched the steam. “I’m sorry.”

Terra shrugged a shoulder and sipped his own. Too hot, and he let it burn his tongue. It slapped all the tension in his body away. “I’m not.”

Aqua laughed, then covered her mouth. Stars, why was she so cute? “If I’m being honest, I’m not either.”

Terra’s cheeks heated, but not from the tea. “Tomorrow?”

Aqua hid her smile behind the mug. “We’ll be Masters tomorrow. We’ll probably be sent on separate missions.”

Terra’s heart jumped. Most times, when she believed in him as her equal, Terra simmered through reasons why that wasn’t the case. Tonight, his heart jumped like it was trying to soar out of his esophagus. Sometimes, Aqua made him feel so capable. They would be Masters tomorrow, together.

“So? Masters have to sleep. There are plenty of inns around.” He tapped the lip of his mug. “We need our own hiding place.”

It sounded childish—no, innocent, young, hopeful—to say it. Hiding behind a foreign door, with closed curtains, for an hour or two. 

Aqua looked at him with a grin in her eyes. Even in the dark, hidden in shadows, he saw their Light. She nodded, biting her lip, and Terra’s heart did, in fact, soar. “Our own hiding place.” 

They kissed to seal the promise outside her bedroom door, and she tasted like herbs. 

He brought their enclasped hands to his heart. 

“Good luck to the both of us,” she whispered.

“We got this.”

She nodded. “We got this.”

Terra went to bed too excited. In the morning, they would have to play it formal, rehearse their bows to each other before their duel. The Mark of Mastery. His first official mission. Aqua’s touch and his scheduled alone time with her, tucked away somewhere, in a new bed. They would be by themselves and be themselves without reminders of the roles they had to play. 

Tomorrow was going to be a huge day. The stars knew it. Terra prayed for a blessing so bright, there would be no shadows. 

~*~

In Master Eraqus’s study, in the deep dark since all the lanterns have been snuffed out of their inner glow, with only the light from the fireplace to help him see, Terra lays Stormfall across the coffee table. 

The castle groans and shifts, sounding like it’s about to rupture. Terra holds his breath and listens. How is he going to survive the fall with no Keyblade to shield him, and no glider to escape? Ven would have to be the one to come rescue him, but what if he doesn’t have the time to get here?

Aqua would step in. Right?

Xehanort once talked about death. Years ago, to Terra, or maybe Terra is misremembering it as a dream. Death, Xehanort had said, is one step below transcending into Kingdom Hearts. It robs you of the chance. That’s why Darkness exists.

The castle creaks again. Fear is the kind of emotion that slows down time, and with every crawling minute, Terra’s heart jerks. Finally, the castle simmers, and Terra lets out his relief. 

Deliberately, Terra makes his way to the cauldron (if he stomps too hard, he’s sure the castle will cave in). He’s thrown all he can into the pot: Curaga, potions, mana, and a homemade elixir blended together. Once the rag he dips is soaked, he sits back at the loveseat and lifts Stormfall by the hilt. Stormfall bears no scratches—a testament to Aqua’s strength, and more importantly, her faith, despite it all. 

Either way, Terra buffers the blade, gently. He imagines she can feel this right now—his concern, his apology, that his makeshift bed is lonely. How are you? Let me help you. Drink this, it will help make you feel better. No, I don’t mean it like that, but that you feel healthy. 

Stormfall stirs, grateful for the care. Maybe that means Aqua is, too, grateful that he’s thinking about her. If it’s any consolation, with the way Stormfall pines like a child nesting in a blanket, it feels like Aqua needs the medicine. 

Terra doesn’t know why dread suddenly strikes his chest—or maybe he does, and he doesn’t want to say it out loud yet. Stormfall drops into a dim existence, like there are shadows of his mistakes infecting it. There is resistance, a silent tear, the shake of a head, and fleeing with lesions still open.

“No. Please, don’t leave me,” he says, and brings the hilt to his forehead. 

Stormfall says something, but Terra can’t translate it. He embraces it to his chest.

Something about needing a home…

“I’m your home,” he says too quickly, and wonders if Aqua rejects the thought. “And you’re mine. My home is with you.”

Stormfall agrees. Take me home, it says. Home is… somewhere.

Stormfall stirs. Aqua cries so much without crying at all.

“I’ll build one for you,” he whispers. He wills that comfort to Stormfall. That he will be her boulder, that he will make a safe place, that he wants to be a safe place, and hopes he is.

You are, someone else’s conviction says. A good heart.

Stormfall sighs—it’s long and deep, like a final breath, and Terra crushes it closer as if to resuscitate it, but it dissipates. He’s about to yell when he realizes its brightness, and the embrace and solace that caresses over his chest. 

His heart. Stormfall has entered his heart and now asks him to wield it. Terra hugs himself and feels it settle into comfort, like it needs a secure place to sleep. Stormfall has chosen him as a refuge.

Maybe that means—

Something shuffles outside the study.

“Ven?”

Nothing.

“Ven? Can you hear me?”

No sound. 

It has to be Aqua. Terra pokes his head out of the doorway, and turns down the hall.

The hall is pitch black, but something is off. There is a spot that feels cold, that’s darker, a smear so deep, it absorbs the faded moonlight. It takes time for Terra’s eyes to adjust to nothing. 

It takes time, until he nearly runs into it, for Terra’s eyes to adjust to the fact there’s a shadow in his way.

The shadow opens its eyes. Two round, golden moons, glowing. 

“Aqua?”

She blinks at him and glares. A primal rage, a rabid animal. She’s about to strike. 

Stormfall didn’t tell him Aqua was this livid, so what’s going on? Is that what’s upsetting her? Stormfall choosing him now? 

“I’m holding onto it for the time being,” he says. Aqua says nothing in return. “That’s all.” She says nothing. What remains is this overwhelming feeling that his heart is too exposed. Danger. Cold. Run. He almost calls Stormfall to help him. Almost bows his head to show his respect. Almost exposes the weakest spots on his body, his neck, his stomach, like an animal who knows they’re about to die, to deem himself a non-threat. 

This is strange. This is not Aqua. Stormfall isn’t saying anything, and there’s no sense of anything to this thing either. Like an illusion.

Terra reaches out and the eyes disappear. 

“Aqua?” 

Something is wrong. Terra heads down the hall, when Stormfall says, Don’t. 

How? What do you mean by, Don't? Terra catches himself at the wall and slides all the way down, burying his face into his lap. He needs to go to her room and check in on her.

But Stormfall says, Don't, burning hot like it's on fire.

Maybe that’s a sign he should give her space. He doesn’t want to push Aqua any further away, so he’ll take it as: she forgives him about Stormfall, and will talk to him about it when she’s ready. 

Back in the study, he keeps the flames breathing, and settles onto the blankets on the floor. He’s brought Xehanort’s pillow with him. He shouldn’t have, but there’s a tug at his heart for it. Familiar feels safer, after all. Xehanort’s journals are on the Master’s desk, too, mostly read. Terra has tried again to see if there is a different approach he can attempt with Aqua, but there’s nothing. Up until the formation of a Heartless and a Nobody, Xehanort didn’t seem aware the Guardian was with him.

Xehanort didn’t know. Master Eraqus was wrong. The Master of Masters would have lied. 

All Terra can do now is sleep. In the morning, he’ll think of something. He can’t make any breakfast in the kitchen, so maybe he should take her out somewhere. Find a hiding place together like they promised. Show her that she doesn’t scare him, and that yes, he does and truly wants her happy. 

He toys with frays from the carpet, and listens to the wind howling. Enough time passes, and it rains. Enough time passes, and he nods off. 

He jerks awake. The fire in the hearth is still alive, but someone is behind him. He turns over his shoulder. Aqua, with glowing eyes, sits on the loveseat, watching him sleep. The light from the fire casts her in sharp shadows, as if she’s not solid. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” Terra says, his voice grainy from exhaustion.

“I can’t sleep,” she whispers.

Eager to ease that discomfort, Terra reaches out for her knee. “Stay with me.” He squeezes. “Or maybe we can go to your room.”

“It’s hard to be in my room,” she whispers.

Terra sits up and rests his head on her lap. “Then stay.” She’s freezing through her smokey stockings, and without thinking about it, he kisses her thigh. “Stay.” Kiss. “I can’t watch you walk away anymore.” Kiss. Inhales a sob. “I can’t let go, Aqua. You can’t ask that of me.” 

She says nothing, placing a claw on his head. 

“Terra!”

Ven’s cry jostles Terra. He finds himself resting his head on nothing but the loveseat cushion. Another illusion, and he was too tired to notice the difference.

Ven clutches a portable lantern to his face. “Fuck, Terra, she’s gone.”

Terra’s heart drops to his stomach. “Where?”

Ven shakes. “Through my mirror.”

Terra storms out of the study, following Ven’s lantern as it sways and jerks from his running. It’s not bright enough to warn them about the chasms on the way, and Ven nearly tumbles down before Terra catches him by the collar. 

By the time they get to the residential wing, there is no movement or any feeling of life. Ven’s mirror is no longer facing the wall, and what it shows is not the reflection of Ven’s open bedroom, but a sky of incomplete stars on mismatched skies, as if pictures have been torn apart and then glued together in all the wrong places.

Is this it? A Door to Darkness? 

“Do we go after her?” Ven asks.

Stormfall is numb. Terra clutches his chest; it feels too similar to losing his body to Xehanort. Aqua is detached from this realm of reality.

“Not us. Light can pass through a Door to Darkness, but it can’t come back through it. One of us has to stay and make our own Door to Light. If we both go in and no one knows, then no one will be there waiting for us when we’re ready.”

“So what do we do?”

Ease her misery. Make her let go of it. She’s forgotten she has the willpower to detach from the Darkness she identifies with, but like how Terra needed Stormfall’s Light to guide his way back, Aqua needs its help, too. 

He doesn’t know how to do that without stabbing her... One thing is certain: the Darkness can’t have her. Maybe Stormfall will know how to detangle Aqua from the web. After all, Stormfall can’t betray Aqua.

Right? 

Either way, she can’t be alone, and Ven can’t sink with her, either. 

Terra holds Ven’s shoulder. “I want you to wait here for us. You’ll keep that door open.” 

“But…” Ven holds his lantern up to see if Terra is serious. “You don’t have Earthshaker.”

“Stormfall will guide me.”

“That’s not the same.”

“It’s better than nothing.”

“But you have no armor either!”

“Aqua didn’t…” Terra stops there. That isn’t a fair argument to make, willing to be without protection while Aqua didn’t have a choice. “Darkness is a step closer to Kingdom Hearts, Ven.” 

“Good for Darkness, but who the fuck cares?”

Terra rubs Ven’s hair. “It’s a different existence, Ven. I don’t have to be afraid of it.” 

Ven hangs his head. Drops of tears hit the floor. “Everything is a competition with you two,” he says, his voice cracking. “Let’s see who suffers more.”

“Stormfall’s Light guided me home,” Terra continues, while Ven wipes his stuffy nose. “She needs Stormfall now.” Terra smiles. “You’re the most important part. You have to keep that Door open for us, or else we can’t come back.”

Ven stares at the floor. “Are you coming back?”

“Of course.”

“You’ll be changed, won’t you?”

Terra brings Ven in for a hug, this boy he’s considered as the younger brother he’s always wanted. “No,” he lies, “Aqua won’t let that happen.” 

Ven sniffs. “The castle is falling.”

“You can open a Door to Light anywhere, Ven.”

But Ven suspects. He sees it on Terra’s face. “How will I know when you’re ready?” he asks, defeated, but brave. He’ll be okay. He has Wayward Wind.

Terra taps a finger on Ven’s chest, over his heart. “You know the answer to that already.”

Terra pats Ven head one more time, and faces the mirror. 

He scans through the constellations to see if he recognizes any, but they’re too shuffled, some half-cut, others scooped like a crescent moon. Terra touches the surface of the mirror. It gurgles, and his hand sinks. 

Stormfall braces itself. Get ready. 

That’s the one advantage Terra has in this fight—Stormfall is his compass, so he won’t get lost. 

You’re doing the right thing.

Stormfall will be there for him, because Aqua is always there for him. 

I will guide you to exactly where you need to be.

But when Terra steps through to the other side, his compass cracks and spins. Aqua doesn’t want to be found. She does. She doesn’t. She does. 

She doesn’t. 

[terraquaweek]

It’s Day 6 already!!! Where does the time go? 😭

Prompt is CONSTELLATIONS. We can’t wait to see your beautiful pieces! 🌌

[mimiplaysgames]

The Bed Story, ch. 4 (Free Day)

Terraqua Day 2024, Day 4

Terra/Aqua | Terra/Anti-Aqua Rating: M Word Count: 6,125 @terraquaweek

Summary: Terra meets Anti-Aqua, and he's sorry for what they did and didn't do.

Read on AO3

A/N: Ahhh I had such anxiety attacks about publishing this chapter yesterday that I just didn't at all. So I'm a day behind with prompts. I told myself I would never use this plot point of finding Aqua's Keyblade in a fic again (save for one last fic that I have not published yet) and here I am... using it again. Oops. Either way, in this chapter, I got to play with a concept I've never done before and had a lot of fun with, so I still hope you guys find this chapter enjoyable.

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Information comes in bits and pieces. Terra and Ven align what little they’ve gathered in a comprehensible order, to get them started in the right place. Terra’s body was left behind in the courtyard Aqua and Xehanort had fought, in Radiant Garden. Then… something. Something happened that dragged Terra’s body away. Someone must have come by to pick him up. Who? Oh, this neighbor said Ansem the Wise found an orphan many years ago, okay. Funny to call someone as tall as you an orphan, but okay. Oh great, he’s dead. Now what? Well, who else was here? No idea. Wait, didn’t they say that castle once belonged to Ansem? Yeah. Let’s check it out. 

Once they get there: Wow, Terra. They do not like you. But do you know what this means? Yeah. Bingo. 

And this leads them to Xehanort’s peaceful old bedroom. The windows overlook Radiant Garden’s skyline, which is now stitched with pipes and electric traps as the city fortifies its own defense against Heartless. Some roofs need patching up but have to wait due to limiting resources. The city commission uses Ansem’s castle frequently for recovery and technological advances. Radiant Garden isn’t the same jewel—severely chipped, clouded, and gnarled, all while healing slowly. All while Xehanort’s bedroom remains… well, tranquil and undisturbed, to look out at such a beautiful view of the horizon, despite the ugliness. 

Xehanort’s bedroom has the same creepy juxtaposition: the dust has settled over his belongings, and it’s weird, because these were belongings Terra had touched, not Xehanort. Terra’s body, Terra’s touch. A worn out adventure novel with most of the pages bent in the corners sits on the nightstand table, waiting to be read again. That’s weird, because Terra adores that novel, too. Does that mean Xehanort and Terra have the same taste, or did Terra influence Xehanort’s taste? Then, there is this thick leather textbook with a bunch of equations. That’s weird, because Terra has no stars-damned clue what any of it means, but there are handwritten notes on the margins with, yep, some careful calligraphy that is Terra’s, and jutted rushed strikes of someone who thought too fast for the pace he wrote in.

Terra sits on Xehanort’s bed. Terra’s head had slept on this pillow here. Weird. Terra’s head. Here. And yet, infuriating. Terra’s head, safe in solace, all this time without him realizing. For years. The pillow is arranged towards the window, so when Xehanort laid down, he was able to watch the stars overhead before sleeping. Weird. Maybe Xehanort favored the stars. Or maybe Terra missed them. Terra’s bed back home was arranged the same way. 

For what it’s worth, the bed is squishy and invites a nap. Much better than the thin carpet in the Master’s study. 

Right now, the keepers of the Ansem’s castle are looking for a scientist named Even, who might know the whereabouts of Aqua’s Keyblade. Everyone else in the castle had said, Oh yeah. I remember some Keyblade. Dunno what happened to it. 

“So,” Ven says, poking a finger at a glass chemistry set. “You’re gonna tell me what’s going on with you?”

Terra considers taking the pillow home. It smells of patchouli, which isn’t a cologne Terra would have chosen, but it’s comforting. 

“About what?”

Ven rolls his eyes. “You know what. Show me.”

Terra extends his hand, but instead of calling Earthshaker, he tries for No Name one more time. Maybe being in this room will beckon it to come. Think about hunger, and Terra’s own satiation when he comes close to achievement. Think about the taboo. Taste it. Think about how full it felt, how delicious, when Terra wielded Darkness for the first time and felt like he could bend gravity. Think about how Aqua might feel this way now, drunk on power. 

No, don’t think about Aqua and how Terra let it all tear apart. 

Nothing happens.

“Earthshaker still won’t come?”

Terra lowers his arm. “No.” 

“I don’t get it.” Ven scratches his face. “I mean, I know that when a wielder changes, the Keyblade will change with them sometimes, but…”

Terra squeezes his own bicep. A bitter medicine to drink, and no sugar to help it go down. “Maybe I’ve changed in ways Earthshaker doesn’t approve of.”

“That makes zero sense. Earthshaker is yours.” Ven huffs. “That’s like saying you don’t want it anymore.”

Is that true? Terra rubs fingers to his palm, and considers the possibility. Why he tries for No Name over Earthshaker, exchanging his own essence for something better than what he can offer. Maybe it’s that he can’t trust anything he thinks anymore. No Name is stronger. Facts are facts.

And maybe Earthshaker is no longer Earthshaker anymore. Maybe all Terra has left are the remnants the Guardian digested. Something warped, and stupid, and Dark. Maybe Terra will never again feel what it’s like to hold an extension of Light.

“Can I hold your Keyblade?” Terra asks.

“Hm? Yeah, definitely.” Ven summons Wayward Wind, and the air in the room thaws with a blanket of safety. 

Compared to the length of Terra’s arm, Wayward Wind is a dagger, but sturdy. Eager, excitable, like it wants to fly and never touch the ground again. Terra feels compelled to twirl it in circles over and over, and it brings him childish joy to repeat this movement, like bouncing a yo-yo. While he does this, Ven grins, and Wayward Wind smiles back. There’s a sense of pick-me, pick-me deep beneath the surface, like when Ven raised his hand before Aqua and Terra did after the Master asked a question in class, desperate to answer it before they had a chance. Keeping up. Trailing behind. Keeping up. Trailing behind, always wanting to explore but caught in a cage. Beneath that, this belief that there’s a reason he was left behind. Deeper than that, maybe they were right.

Most importantly, when Terra stops the twirling, and adjusts Wayward Wind’s position in this fist, this expanse of hope quells everything else, knowing the sun comes out on the other side. For a Keyblade so small, it has more optimism than anything else Terra has felt in his life. 

“You’re a good friend to yourself, Ven.”

“I am?” Ven takes Wayward Wind back, but before he can say more, someone knocks on the door. That someone lets himself in. 

This someone is…

“Ienzo,” he says, reading Terra’s confusion correctly and re-introducing himself. Ienzo drags in a cart stuffed with a mountain of journals and reports on spiral bounds. He can barely look Terra in the face, so he addresses Ven. “This is everything Xehanort has recorded.” He clears his throat, and pats a neat stack on the side. “This here refers to the research you specifically requested.”

“Thank you.” Terra says, who was the one who requested the material, not Ven.

“You’re welcome,” Ienzo says to Ven. “Um…” He lets go of the cart, and begins to turn, then stops himself. He faces Terra but looks at the floor. “I suppose this research is your entitlement.”

“Excuse me?”

“It is rightfully yours.” He clears his throat again. “Or is it not?”

Ven gapes. “Sure,” he answers for a shocked Terra, then shoots a look at Terra that says, We’ll burn it all later. 

Ienzo lowers his voice. “Before I leave, there is one thing I wanted to say.”

Terra holds his breath. He would move to Xehanort’s desk so he can begin sifting through the pages, but he’s getting the impression that sudden movement would scare this guy away. 

Ienzo glances into Terra’s eyes. Looks away. Glances again. Looks at the wall. “You look so much like him.”

Ven groans. “It’s the other way around. Xehanort. Xehanort is the one who looked so much like Terra.”

“Of course.”

“It’s okay, Ven.” Terra delicately stands, and takes the leather journal at the top of the stack, where he meets Ienzo eye-to-eye. “Don’t take it personally. It is what it is.”

Ienzo nods too quickly, chin to chest. Before closing the door behind him, Ienzo steps back inside. With a hand on the knob, he says, “I want you to know, he made me feel like I was limitless. He was the one who showed me I could make anything, that I can even fly, and... And I am so sorry about that.”

Terra sits at Xehanort’s desk. The journal is extra-large, the same size of a textbook. A perfect fit for Terra’s hands. 

Master Terra. Xehanort uttered those words. 

“He made me feel the same.” Over his shoulder, he smiles at Ienzo. “No need for an apology.”

“Are we seriously considering this?” Ven asks about the journals when Ienzo leaves them alone, sliding the second-to-top journal off the stack like it smells. 

Terra opens the cover, and reads the date. Two years after Xehanort won.

Terra scans page after page—theory and history, most of it familiar from Fairytale lore, like what’s stored in Affairs of the Heart but legible. These read as summaries. Perhaps he was reminding himself of the basics. “We just need something, Ven.”

“But Xehanort?”

“He knew things we didn’t.”

Ven sighs. Ven understands—Xehanort knew things that hurt Ven more than anyone else, and none of them are found in old tomes.

“I can read these,” Terra says, realizing he’s asking Ven for too much. “You should go have fun. I heard they’re bringing back food carts.”

“Nah, I’m fine.” He’s not. “I want to help.”

“Okay. But if you start to get upset, you stop. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Ven moves over beakers on a shelf to make space for himself, and Terra goes back to the journal, only to skim through the final page and realize it’s not what he’s hoping for.

Next.

A thick folder of yellowing paper scribbled with equations, and no markers to translate what they mean.

Next.

A diary. Terra’s heart pounds. Does he want to know? His stomach churns something acidic when he flips through dates. He shouldn’t. He’s nauseous. He’s curious. These are emotions laid bare, Xehanort’s personal, not clinical, reactions to his experiments. He lists patterns. Glowing eyes for successes, glazed over when failures. There are descriptions of people Xehanort enticed to the dungeons, and—

Terra shuts the diary, and rubs his eyes. He touches himself: hands on wrists, on forearms, on his chest, on his face. This is his face. This is mine… despite being the last face these victims pleaded with.

“You okay?”

“Fine.” Terra sounds convincing enough, and only needs a moment. Reminds himself that not everyone flinches when they see his face. Ven smiles. Ven wants to see his face.

And Aqua...

“None of it was your fault, you know?”

Terra wishes these people had a more peaceful passing. “Thanks, Ven.”

Terra opens the diary again, and thumbs through pages that describe the experiments in too much detail. He wonders if Xehanort was aware Terra was there. But there is no mention of a shadow following Xehanort anywhere. He had no idea he had access to the Guardian for his use.

Not until his Heartless was formed years later. Xehanort’s heart remembered, even when his mind didn’t. 

Terra hits a passage, sounding like the vulnerability of an existential crisis late at night:

I yearn for an old friend I can’t remember, to pass these nights with.

And one more: What used to fill me with joy has left my heart bored. 

Are these passages talking about Eraqus? Or is this Terra’s influence, and they’re talking about Aqua?

“Ugh.”

Terra turns over. The chair can’t spin.  “What’s going on?”

“This.” Ven holds up a leaflet stapled together, damaged by water. Or fluids? It doesn’t look like blood. “It—” He looks like he’s about to vomit. 

“Here.” Terra takes it from Ven, and reads. Theories about the χ-blade, but one passage sounds about right: 

There is a validity to the argument that our hearts are not one source of power, but many sewn together. Light intertwined with Darkness in repressive knots. Not an object that draws a shadow in the presence of a light source, but threads twisted together. To separate the two is feasible, but imagine the difficulty to pull apart raveled yarn one thread at a time. 

To bind them back together, make them relink but in different places, like a puzzle cube, is ideal. This is where the true heart lies, where the soul of Man can be read: What piece is he willing to take out? How would he change? What would he learn if he wove it back together? 

Further than this, I would be remiss not to ask myself, after dreaming of memories I do not have: What would it take me to remove something of which I am not aware is there?

Related to this discussion, how does Man live on? What does it mean to give my share to another, and plant a piece in someone else’s heart? 

By what extension does this method become irreversible? Is that what I want?

A footnote:

I’ve done it. Braig has become my first successful attempt. I made certain that it would be near impossible to remove my Darkness from his consciousness. 

I dare not ponder the possibility of him sharing a piece of himself with me—that is out of the question. Seeing how he has changed proves to me that I must maintain all records of who receives my blessing. 

For the sake of science, we attempted to force my essence out. It threatened to destroy all his memory of me. 

To rule out correlation, I’ve attempted this on [name too damaged by fluid to be legible] and it was successful up until she lost all memory. The night after, she killed herself.  

Perhaps this is in relation to the fact that Braig fully accepted me. I need a different approach. I need a body with no heart at all—

Terra can’t breathe. He hauls a trash can and gags into it, but nothing comes out except spit. 

“Hey, you okay?”

Terra gags again, then swallows. He croaks, “Yeah.”

“It’s all bullshit.”

“Language,” he says, coarse. Vanitas. The curse words have to be Vanitas’s lingering influence on Ven.

“But what does it mean for Aqua exactly?”

Terra reads the words again, searching for an answer between the lines. But there’s no denying it. “The Guardian gave a piece of it—of me, my Darkness—to her. They’ve intertwined. That’s why she’s like this.”

Terra reads the passage again, looking for confirmation that this is so. Was Xehanort aware of Terra’s jealousy? Did his Heartless know? And took advantage of it? Jealous of her, then sabotaged her. Which isn’t… Terra would never…  

And yet, Aqua stands above it all, strong enough (stronger than Terra) to control a new Keyblade. There has to be hope there.

“But… when Xehanort tried to take Vanitas away from me—” Ven sniffs. He hasn’t been able to talk about Vanitas since they’ve come back. “Look what it did to me.”

“I remember.”

“Terra, I don’t want her to forget us.” 

Despite Terra’s own chasm spawning in his chest cavity... “She won’t.” Ven can’t quite believe it, either. 

“I mean,” Ven says, grasping for exceptions, “you were fine. Right? You kept your memory.”

Terra’s breath hitches. “The difference is…” Careful. “I fought him out. Didn’t I? You didn’t want to be separated. Aqua…”

Ven can’t, or doesn’t, want to accept that. He shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” Then, without allowing Terra to reply, he says, “Rainfell will bring her back. We just have to find it.”

A knock on the door. This man introduces himself as Even. “His resemblance to you…” he says to Terra. “I apologize.”

For someone who is dead, Xehanort has achieved true immortality—living on in memory. Which includes Terra. He keeps Xehanort alive just by his heart remembering. 

Even leads them into the dungeons, a slow, meticulous crawl down a tower of stairs. Terra is grateful that Ven hasn’t read the diary. All the more blissful. These rooms ooze of Darkness, as if Terra has stepped into the Realm of Darkness with no armor. 

That may not be quite right. Aqua has told Ven the Realm of Darkness is numbing. This place is repugnant, shadows and ink seeping from below the doors. Terra has to cover his face to stop himself from breathing it in.

Even leads them to the end of the hall, where he pries open an electronically locked door with a machine in his hand. Something fancy to bypass some other fancy technological advancement.

“It’s here!” Ven says, running inside. Terra is more cautious, surveying his surroundings before taking a step. A simple throne room that means absolutely nothing to him and is never mentioned in Xehanort’s diary. “Terra, look!”

Among her armor strewn across the floor is a Keyblade. Different, sleeker, with a sharp edge to the blade, designed to strike something as narrow as a tendon with precision. Undoubtedly, this is Rainfell, updated. Terra picks it up, and is blessed with an image of a bright star among all stars, like one offset from a constellation. 

Rainfell recognizes him, and it sighs. It’s tired of waiting. It doesn't know why there is this hollow feeling simmering beneath the metal. Its essence is shallow, like tight breaths, exhausted but awake. Aqua’s star blinks—something within is alive. Rainfell has been a Keyblade of pure, blind faith, but this version is not faith, but conviction. This is what it feels like to have hope.

“This throne room?” Terra asks Even.

Even is deadfaced when he says, “It wasn’t part of the original blueprint. Xemnas built it.” 

Terra’s Nobody built it for Rainfell. Aqua’s star has never stopped lighting Terra’s way back, no matter what form he came in.

“Ven, here.” Terra lifts Rainfell over so they can both touch it. “Say hi, so Aqua knows we’re there for her.”

And when Ven does, he cries. 

~*~

Aqua can’t fix it: the narrow stained glass window in the hall on the way to the residential wing. It’s cracked, splintering her reflection into shards, her golden eyes sliced into knives.

The Master wouldn't be pleased with this, if he were alive. Aqua clenches her jaw. He wouldn't be pleased to look at her either, but Aqua prays to him all the same. I know I'm supposed to be a Master, but I still have questions.

She presses the pad of her claw to the shred between, willing her Darkness to fill the space and seal it together, but the glass breaks off and shatters into minuscule gems on the floor. Nothing in the castle does what she wants it to. She’s even tried to fix the bells so they can ring on the hour. They don’t. She can’t fix them. 

Shhhhh, dear, my dear, this place is not built for you. 

Her shoulder ticks. Every time one of those voices speaks, she resists the temptation to hit something. One clone, two, more, are in the hall with her. Terra and Ven can’t see them. 

Look at what you’ve done, the Second says to her.

It’s not my fault, Third says.

We’ve been alone for so long, the Fourth one says. When are they coming home?

You can’t stay here, says the First. You know it’s not good for you.

“Don’t say that to me,” Aqua says. When they speak, they have her stare at things, wondering if it’s her in the reflection of this broken stained glass, or if they’re all staring back. Is that just her reflection on the armored statues? Only her shadow on the walls? She can’t count sometimes. 

First says, But it’s true, my dear.

Though First has a point. Her shadows are the only things that don't run from her. And another point: as much as she longed to be with Terra and Ven again—

Especially Terra, Fourth says.

—Darkness and Light can't blend that well, can it? Has the Master been right all this time? Aqua groans from the thought. If the Master was right, then why is she like this? Destructive, scratching most of what she touches. Everyone stares at her scales. No one allows her peace. They keep her as close as an enemy.

Don’t make me feel anything, Third says. Please. It hurts too much.

“Aqua!” That’s Ven trying to find her. He has a knack of knowing where she is, perfect Light to perfect Darkness. That’s how it works, right? Suppress the Darkness so much it no longer exists, or let it take over.

Sweet little Ven, Fourth says. 

You’ll break his little innocent heart, First says. Why do you string him along? 

Don’t forget the barrier he put up, Second says. Neither of them trust you.

“Shut up,” Aqua mutters.

“Aqua,” Ven calls when he spots her. In his hand—Look. A perfect Light. The irony, Second says—is a ball of light. “Look what I made for you.” A sphere of fire contained within a tornado. “Neat trick, right? It’ll keep your hands warm.”

“Ven, that’s…” Sweet. Kind. Aqua cups her hands and accepts it. The flames are only slightly homely, a small campfire in the middle of a blizzard. 

Let her feel, Fourth says. I want to feel, too.

First says, No. You know what it does to her. 

“Thank you, Ven.” With him, her tone is muddled, tame, needy. She cups one of his cheeks and he… tenses. Stops himself from flinching at the sight of her claws. But how can she pull away? Ven is her brother—the very reason why she kept going. To wake him up. To see him safe. “That’s so considerate of you.”

Third: Well, you woke him up like you wanted, and look how he repays you. 

First: Making you feel you're too dangerous to be around.

Fourth: It’s nice to be cared for, isn’t it? He needs a hug from you.

Second: She’ll need to declaw herself, first.

“You’re welcome,” Ven says, his smile trembling. It’s like he’s expecting to be scratched.

Aqua lets him go. He needs to be reassured, and she knows just the thing. “Here.” In one free hand, she summons a swirl of Darkness, one to mimic his gift.

Second: You’re still scary.

Aqua tries smiling. It feels too vulnerable, and her muscles stiffen. Ven swallows with effort as he holds her gift to him far from his heart. 

“Really cool,” Ven says in a way that implies the opposite. Awkward silence. “Does it…?” He bends the Darkness into shapes. It’s malleable, and he nods, impressed. “Not bad.”

"Ven," she starts.

First, warning her: My dear.

"I care so much about you," Aqua says. She's not sure if Ven would accept an apology for brandishing a Keyblade against him in the heat of the moment.

Ven smiles, like a salve soothing her over. "I know."

For a moment, Aqua is at peace. Even when uncertain and wary, Ven’s smile is a balm. He’s safe, and he will always be safe under her care.

Then— 

“Ven, Aqua, you there?” Terra. His voice shatters every treasure of glass she keeps in the mirrors of her mind. There’s a deep need to listen to him crack a joke, even if she doesn’t, or can’t, laugh. A desire for him to tell her he needs her just as badly, and a fear that isn’t true anymore. Like drowning in sand, Aqua doesn't want to be so affected by every small gesture he does. But she is. Every time he’s around, Aqua’s heart bleeds. She can’t help it. Can’t stop it. Can’t fix it.

First: Oh, my dear. Can’t you see? You can’t stay. 

“Stop.”

“Mm?” Ven says, looking up at her. “Did you say something?”

Strapped to Terra’s back is Stormfall, but Aqua has known it was coming. Terra and Ven both have cried on it. She would have cried with them if she could.

Stars, Terra’s shoulders are so broad, his chest so powerful, his waist thick. The way he moves twists a scalpel in Aqua's heart: the even pace between his strides. Timid. Not the way they rush when he's confident. Or how his knees bounce too much when he's distracted with trying to impress. Timid, like a dog with a tail between his legs.

She feels the need to apologize to him, too.

Second: What for?

First: There isn't any reason.

Third: It should be the other way around.

Fourth: He already apologized. It wasn't enough for either of you.

The space under his eyes is dark. Sleep evades him, his tan face a little pale. And when he looks at her, his smile is tight, but his deep blue eyes betray him. She can hear the thump-thump of his heart. She’s an animal now. She knows when something comes alive when they see her. 

That last night before the Mark of Mastery, she should have stayed in his bed.

If you did, First says, you would have taken with you the memory of what his skin would have felt on you, around you, inside you. His warmth, his weight. You’ve forgotten, haven’t you? His smell. His voice.

That Keyblade… Second says.

He’s always had such a beautiful jawline, First says.

That Keyblade! Third says.

It hurts to look at him, First says. Doesn’t it? Don’t you want that pain to go away?

Terra does that chuckle when he’s nervous, the signal that she’s been staring at him too long. “Look what I have.” His bicep flexes when he reaches to pull Stormfall off his back. “Rainfell.”

Come home, First says. 

“It’s Stormfall now,” Aqua says. Her Keyblade croaks, as if reaching a hand out to speak to her, but Aqua doesn’t want to hear it. Stormfall can’t agree with an anti-heart, let alone an Anti-Aqua. 

Ven’s fire churns in her hands. It burns. Too much. She crushes the tornado and snuffs out the fire with her claws, when she doesn’t mean to. 

She can’t fix this, either.

Ven tenses. He lets go of her Darkness, and it dissipates. “Um…” 

“Ven,” Terra says, nodding his head to the side to indicate that Ven should leave and give them some space. Ven obeys.

When they’re alone, Terra plants a smile on his face. An olive branch. “Stormfall, huh?” He tests its weight, then offers the hilt. “Suits it nicely.”

Aqua doesn’t take it. “Does it feel any different to you?”

Terra raises his eyebrows, surprised by the question. “You don’t sense it?”

Hmm, Second one says. Do you notice Earthshaker is not near? 

Aqua swallows. “Barely," she lies.

“I think you’ll feel better when you hold it—”

Aqua winces. 

Third: When will he ever learn? 

“Why?” she asks.

“Why what?”

“Why do you want me better?”

Terra gapes, and Stormfall snaps her bite in his hand, making him flinch. He composes himself. “I… I don’t want you to suffer.”

Not quite. Stormfall says he wishes for things to go back to the way they were. “You want me happy.”

His eyes soften in a way that melts her. She’s known for years. It’s love. 

First: Is it really? Are you sure?

“Of course I do,” Terra says. 

“So happy that you’d want me changed?”

Terra inhales, then holds it in. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You want to know when Stormfall changed?” Aqua steps forward, when she shouldn’t. He smells like sandalwood. In the Realm of Darkness, there was no smell. Aqua steps again, when she shouldn’t. Terra, hold me. Is Stormfall telling him this? Of course, she can’t lie to her Keyblade. He’s closing the gap, stopping just short. “It transformed when I realized I had to fight you.”

Terra lowers his gaze to his shoes. 

“Don’t apologize,” Aqua says, recalling how discouraged she was when Rainfell transformed. How she questioned everything—her education, her path to Mastery—as a lie. How Stormfall told her to keep her head up. That there is an answer to find. How naive. She once chastised Terra for being so close to the Darkness. Look where she is now. “I would have—”

First: Don’t. You know what that will do to him. And what he will do to you. 

Terra’s brows furrow. “You okay?”

Aqua grits her teeth. “Yes.” 

He smiles when he means to cry, and Aqua has the mind to kiss his eyelids and wipe the tears away. “Okay,” he says. “What were you saying before? You would have done what?”

Made the same choice all over again. For you.

Her chest hurts.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she says instead, desperate to keep her defenses up and ease the pain back into numbness. 

“I didn’t say you did.” He offers Stormfall again. 

Second: He does that. Nudges when he wants something and you’re busy. 

Third: Pokes when he wants something and you’re annoyed. 

Fourth: Questions you even when you’re right. It’s amusing.

First: My dear, you adore it when he does that. Careful—it’s going to hurt later when you want more and he can’t give it to you.

Terra smiles wider. It’s love. 

First: It’s—

Love. Shut up. Stormfall knows, though its link is weak. Terra is trying to hide it: Terra needs her, in the faintest whisper possible.

“I can’t take Stormfall,” Aqua says. 

“You can.”

Second, pointing: Look at him nudging.

“If Stormfall exists,” Terra says, “then by definition, you still have Light within you.” He finally exhales. “But that’s always been the case, right? A shadow can’t exist without Light, so, by definition, you are Light.”

Second: How preposterous. 

“Terra,” Aqua stresses, wanting to hit something. "Look at me.”

“I am.”

Stormfall gasps. It calls to Aqua. He’s about to say—

“Don’t say it,” Aqua says.

“Aqua—”

“Don’t—”

“You’re beautiful.”

First: Oh, honey.

Second: Ouch.

First, crossing her arms: He doesn’t have the privilege to say that.

Third: Why does that hurt so much?

Fourth: You are.

Beautiful… Even with these claws?

Stormfall betrays all of what Aqua wants to hide—it hurts, hurts, hurts, but Aqua wants it, and Terra feels it, so Terra wraps his fingers around the inner flesh of her wrists, over her scales. Touch me, so he does, gliding his hand up her forearm, brushing fumes from her skin, under her torn sleeves where he exposes smokey skin. Touch me more, and he pulls her in, embracing her. Terra plants his lips on her forehead, barely warm but there, and Aqua wants, and Aqua needs, and Aqua hurts. Aqua smells his sweat and sandalwood, and Aqua leans her face at his jaw, and his lips come to her eyebrow, and he kisses her there, and she kisses him too, close to the ear, and he digs his nose into her neck, and he opens his lips there, and Aqua wants, and Aqua needs, and Aqua hurts.

First: This is how you disappear. 

Second: Gut him. 

Third: Please, I can’t. All he does is make you want to cry.

Bury her, First says. You think you may want this, but when he leaves…

You are not Light, Second says. Not anymore. He’ll see that eventually.

No one is going to want your heart when they see what it’s really like now, Third says.

I love him, Fourth says. Can I keep him?

“I wish they would shut up,” Aqua whispers to his ear.

First says, We’re only looking out for you. 

“Who?” He pulls back and holds her by her bare shoulders.

She shouldn’t have said that out loud. That sudden empty space between—a stab now. That small warmth, all gone. “No one.” 

“Aqua?” He’s worried. 

Just hug me again. “I’m fine.”

“Here. Take Stormfall.”

She scoffs, wanting to push him. He always says things at the worst time, ruining everything. They were right. He can't accept her the way she is.

“So I can feel better?” She does push him. She wants to scratch, but stops herself. “You want to know why I’m like this?”

Terra looks like he’s been slapped on the face. With a low voice, he says, “I already know.”

“Is what I’ve done for you not enough?”

Terra squeezes his eyes, like she’s a monster in his closet he’s wishing away, saying, You’re just a nightmare. You’re only a dream. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” 

“What more can I give you? What more do you want?”

And, as if he can read her mind (Stormfall, that bitch), he says, “I want you to stay. Don’t go.”

Aqua can crumble. 

First: Come home.

Second: Come home.

Third: You’re safe with us.

Fourth: Stay home. 

First: Don’t leave us. He doesn’t know you anymore. We do.

Aqua balls her claws into fists. Because of the scales, they don’t sting. She shouldn't tear her heart out for him. She shouldn't. “Terra, all I’ve had for years were memories.”

Terra’s eyes water, but he blinks, and it’s gone. “Was I a good memory?”

First: My dear, you’re going to cry. You know I can’t allow that. 

“Yes,” Aqua says quietly. Stormfall and his heart could fly with hope. But is it false hope? “But,” she says, hesitating. “I’m your worst mistake. Aren’t I?”

His eyes grow hard. Determined, ready to fight. This is the one and only thing he’s confident in. “You have never been a mistake, Aqua. Never. And while I’ve done stupid things that have hurt you, not one regret of mine was you.”

Second, pointing again: Look at him questioning you.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Terra says. He opens his arms, his chest in jeopardy for attack. “You have me now.” 

And she wants him. And she needs him. But she hurts.

First: All those years alone...

He reminds her she's Dark, wanting him to grovel at her feet for forgiveness. He's Light, brave and radiant. He’s disarmed her and dealt the hardest blow, leaving her raw and bloody.

Fourth: My love, be gentler to yourself.

First: She's truthful. She owes that to herself.

Aqua doesn’t want to be read, needing to keep her heart buried and still. But he reads her page after page, like he’s dug into the dirt and pulled her out screaming. For once, Aqua looks away. He’s going to be the last one standing this time. 

“Aqua, don’t leave.”

“I can.”

“Don’t turn your back on Stormfall.” 

“I will.” 

“How do you expect me to let you walk away?”

“You let go.”

“I won’t.” He follows her, and takes her elbow. 

She shoves him off. “What do you want me to do?” 

Again, that fighting glare. “Let whatever I hurt you with go.”

“No, I won’t.” Aqua raises her voice. 

“It’s not good for you!”

“I have a piece of you with me.” She cups her fist to her chest. “Finally, after all these years. And here you are…” She blinks, unsure of what weapon he has in his pocket to throw next. “After everything, I finally have you back… and you can barely look at what I’ve become.”

“I didn’t—”

“I can’t walk away and have nothing to remember you by. I will never let it go.”

“Then share it,” he says too fast. 

First: Poor thing. He doesn’t understand what he’s asking for.

They lock eyes, blue to gold, and Aqua can barely fight him off. He has a habit of knowing exact secrets when she doesn’t want him to know, saying the right things at the wrong time. He might as well pierce her heart with a needle. Share it. That’s all she wanted, to share this with someone else. 

But she can’t do that to Terra. But she can. But she shouldn’t. But she needs to.

She needs to? She needs him to stay far away from her, for his own safety.

“You want your answer? To Stormfall?” Aqua says.

Terra starts to say something, but she cuts him off. Aqua takes Stormfall, and it feels… too intimate, like being stuck in a tight closet with a distant ex-friend. But it knows something is wrong. Confusion, and this electric discomfort. Stormfall does not want anything to do with whatever Aqua is right now. This isn’t it. This isn’t right. 

Aqua can’t fix it. 

“This is your answer.” Because Stormfall does not accept her either, Aqua drops it. It clatters when it hits the floor. She hears Terra pick it up again, slowly, as if with care and reverence, as she walks away. 

His touch wants her to come back home. 

But where is home?

First: With us.

Where it’s cold.

Fourth: With them.

Where it’s warm. 

All she wants is a nightmare she’s familiar with, not one that scares her.

[terraquaweek]

It’s Day 5 of Terraqua Week!!! So crazy to see we are at the finish line already. 😭

Today’s prompt is SHADOWS. How do you make peace with yours? 🕶️

[a-crack-in-the-universe]

Terraqua Week Day 4 - Free Day

@terraquaweek

It had all happened so quickly. She and Terra had been in the middle of a particularly intense battle with a giant Heartless in Prankster's Paradise, one they hadn’t encountered before. It’d looked like they were winning, when the Heartless had made an unexpected attack that Aqua hadn’t seen in time, having been too caught up in fending off the Heartless’s previous attack. But Terra had noticed, a mere second before her. He’d tried to block it but had failed and been knocked out by the Heartless’ attack.

Once that had happened, Aqua had known that she wouldn’t be able to defeat the Heartless by herself, so she briefly cast Barrier and called for backup using the gummiphone. Sora and Kairi had come within the next ten minutes, as they’d already been close by doing a mission on a neighbouring world. Riku had arrived from Mysterious Tower in the aftermath of the battle, to check that everyone was all right and the Heartless gone.

Of course, Terra hadn’t been all right. No one had been able to wake him, and while Curaga appeared to heal his physical wounds, it also did not wake him up. And so they’d taken him to Radiant Garden, to be examined by Ansem the Wise and his apprentices. Now, they were waiting outside Ansem the Wise’s castle in Radiant Garden, for someone to come out and give them an update on Terra’s condition.

Aqua couldn’t stop pacing. It had been hours since they had brought Terra to Radiant Garden via the Gummi Ship, and Ansem the Wise and his apprentices had taken him into their surgery room to examine and hopefully operate on him.

‘Why couldn’t he just let me take it? I could’ve shielded myself, I could have…’

‘You know how Terra is,’ Ventus said quietly. Ven had arrived quickly, as soon as he’d gotten Aqua’s message about what had happened. ‘He’d die before he let either of us get hurt like that.’

She felt treacherous tears sting her eyes but didn’t try to wipe them away. She didn’t want to bring any attention to them, and besides, maybe she ignored them they would just disappear. One could hope.

‘I know, Ven,’ she whispered. ‘I just… I hate this so much. Terra looks so badly hurt… I don’t know what we’d do without him if he dies.’

I don’t know what I’d do without him. Terra had been a constant in her life since she’d first started training to be a keyblade wielder, at age of ten. She hadn’t gotten along with him at first, finding him annoying and off-putting, but gradually, as the years passed, she began to see the traits of his that no one else save maybe Master Eraqus saw—his warmth, his kindness, his protective nature, his stubbornness and care. And so gradually, over the years they’d gone from strangers to friends to best friends and rivals. And Aqua had realised that she cared for him much more than she could ever say and couldn’t bear to lose him. Her, Terra and Ven being separated for over ten years due to Xehanort had only strengthened her feelings.    

‘He’s not going to die,’ Ven said confidently. ‘Don’t think like that, Aqua. Remember what Master Yen Sid said? It’s important for us to believe. Terra’ll find his way back to us, you’ll see.’

Yes… she remembered. Master Yen Sid had said the same thing when she awakened in the Mysterious Tower with a comatose Ven, so many years ago. It had been easy to believe then, but now she’d experienced too much darkness to ever think that way again.

------------

Some time later, Aqua didn’t know when, Ansem the Wise finally appeared outside the castle gates, looking tired with dark shadows under his eyes.

Aqua and Ven, Riku, Sora and Kairi immediately turned toward him. He smiled at them in greeting.

‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting for so long,’ he said. ‘Our examination took us longer than we had expected.’

‘Please…’ Aqua forced her voice to stay calm. ‘Will Terra be all right?’

Ansem looked at her gravely. ‘He will live,’ he said. ‘But his condition is uncertain…’

Her heart hammered in her chest at the words. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It seems that the attack Terra bore the brunt of, infected him with a dark virus,’ Ansem said gently to her. ‘Because of this he is comatose—his mind subconsciously did this in an attempt to protect his heart. He will live, but we don’t know when he will wake up or what his condition will be like when he does.’

‘Oh…’

‘When can we take him home?’ Ven asked him.

‘We want to keep Terra here with us for further observation for another seven days. Then he can go home, provided his condition hasn’t gotten any worse,’ Ansem the Wise said.

‘Great!’ Ven said, trying to maintain an air of positivity. ‘Right, Aqua?’

‘Yes… good.’ She forced her frozen lips to move. ‘Thank you, Master Ansem. You’ve done so much to help us.’

Ansem smiled sadly. ‘It is nothing, Master Aqua. I am happy to help, and so are my apprentices. I, too, have some affection for Terra, and it grieves me that he has been hurt like this. But please be assured that he will recover and wake up. He just needs time.’

‘Thank you,’ Aqua repeated, with tears stinging her eyes, and heard Ven echo her. ‘We’ll stay in Radiant Garden until Terra is ready to leave.’

------------

Seven days later, Aqua and Ventus took Terra home to the Land of Departure.

‘Call us if he gets worse or if he wakes up,’ Ienzo instructed them when they were about to board the gummi ship. Aqua got the impression that he, like Ansem the Wise, was also worried about Terra and cared about his wellbeing.

‘Of course, Ienzo,’ Aqua said. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve all done.’

‘It was nothing,’ the man said shyly.

And so they went home. They managed somehow miraculously to carry Terra to his bedroom in the castle, despite him being so heavy, and settled him in his bed. It would’ve made it much easier if they’d had someone else to help them, but Aqua had felt too distraught to really accept any help offered by Ansem and his apprentices.

The next days passed in a painful blur. Aqua busied herself with paperwork, while Ven went on missions to various worlds, usually paired with Roxas or Xion. After all, there were still worlds to protect and the Land of Departure to maintain, and Terra being injured didn’t change that. They went at it with a surprising intensity—neither of them wanted to think too much about Terra’s absence.     

But even with their days being occupied with their respective duties, they still made some time to sit at Terra’s bedside and talk to him about everything that’d been going on. They always had dinner in his bedroom, because Ven insisted that it would help Terra wake up sooner.  

If she was being honest with herself, Aqua thought, she’d insisted that she needed to stay in the Land of Departure to work on paperwork because she didn’t want to leave Terra while he was like this. Throughout each day she sat often with Terra, holding his hand and talking to him, sharing the thoughts in her heart like they’d used to do back when they were kids. When had they stopped doing that? She didn’t know. From time to time, she had a sudden urge to kiss him, but she restrained herself. It didn’t feel right to do it when Terra wasn’t awake to say anything about it.

‘I know you can’t hear me, but… I miss you. I wish you would wake up soon.’   

She refrained from speaking the other, more personal words that were at the front of her mouth. I love you. I need you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Her heart clenched at the thought of Terra never waking up. She’d already had to experience that with Ventus, though the younger boy had woken up eventually when Sora had used the Power of Waking to help guide Ven’s heart back into his body. She didn’t want to have to go through that again with Terra.

‘I swear, if you never wake up, or if it takes you ten years, I’ll never forgive you!’

---------------

Five days after they’d brought him home, Terra finally woke up. Ven was with him at the time—Aqua was preparing their dinner in the kitchen. When Ven had called out to her in such an urgent tone—“Aqua, Terra’s awake!” Aqua immediately dropped what she’d been doing and ran to Terra’s bedroom.

As she burst through the door, she found the sight of Terra sitting up staring at her with tired eyes, but very much awake. She felt as if her heart would burst with relief and joy.

‘Terra! You’re awake!’

Terra snorted slightly, but smiled at her. ‘Yeah… I guess I am.’ Then he rubbed the back of his head and a confused expression crossed his face. ‘What happened? The last thing I remember is fighting that giant Heartless and trying to block that attack you didn’t see.’

‘Well…’ Aqua and Ven glanced at each other. Aqua continued, ‘You were knocked unconscious and we—Sora, Riku, Kairi and I—couldn’t wake you up. We took you to Ansem’s laboratory and he said that you were infected with some kind of dark virus and that your mind put you into a coma to protect your heart. Do you feel all right now?’

Terra looked surprised but answered her readily. ‘Yeah, I think so.’

‘Great!’ Ven said. ‘I’ll call Ansem the Wise to tell him.’   

Terra and Aqua were left alone as Ven ran out of the room. Aqua smiled fondly after Ven, then turned to Terra. ‘We’re about to have dinner,’ she told him. ‘You can join us—you must be hungry after being asleep for so long.’

Terra laughed. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be up to eating dinner. I feel ready to fall asleep again. I’m not sure I can even get out of bed.’

‘That’s okay,’ Aqua said. She gripped his hand and squeezed it gently. ‘You need a lot of rest to recover.’

Later, after dinner, she lay curled next to Terra on his bed, her hand in his, and she said the words that she couldn’t bear to say while he’d been unconscious.

He looked at her, surprised. ‘You really mean that?’

She looked into his tired, hopeful eyes and nodded. ‘Yes. I don’t know what I’d do without you. When the Heartless hurt you and you wouldn’t wake up, it scared me a lot.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘When I took that blow for you, all I could think of was that I didn’t want you to get hurt. I thought if anyone had to get hurt, it should be me.’   

‘Why should it be you?’ she challenged him. ‘We’re partners, Terra, remember? We look out for each other. You can’t protect me from everything. There’ll always be a point where I’ll get hurt.’

Terra looked away. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘It was just—instinct.’

Aqua sighed. She really couldn’t blame him for doing what his heart told him to do. It was just that she’d been so scared for him. She didn’t want to feel like that ever again.

‘I know, Terra,’ she whispered. ‘I understand. I just was so scared. Don’t do that to me again. After everything we’ve all been through, I can’t handle another scare like that. I don’t want to lose you.’

‘You won’t lose me,’ he said to her gently. ‘I promise. I’ll be more careful from now on.’

She saw the honesty in his eyes and smiled. ‘Good,’ she said, and kissed his cheek. ‘Now go to sleep. You need it.’

She hopped off the bed and started toward the doorway. When she was almost at the door, Terra called out to her.

‘Aqua?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I love you too,’ he said drowsily.

Then he closed his eyes and slid into sleep. Aqua smiled fondly at him, then exited the bedroom.

[stillbubbles]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

ooooooh! happy terraqua week 2024!!

[terraquaweek]

Hello and happy timezone!!

Today is a FREE DAY!! We welcome any and all ideas. 🎉

[a-crack-in-the-universe]

Hero

Terraqua Week Day 3

@terraquaweek

A week passed. Ven still hadn’t come back from Twilight Town. Terra suspected that he wanted to give him and Aqua some more time alone. Terra didn’t mind that in the least—he just wished Ven had talked to them about his intentions beforehand and how long it’d be until he returned.

Like they usually did, he and Aqua spent the evening on the summit watching the stars and talking about their day. Aqua had spent her day on a mission to Corona, which she recounted to him enthusiastically. He on the other hand had spent his day in the Land of Departure doing paperwork, and he listened to Aqua with some envy while she talked about how Rapunzel and Eugene were doing and what she got up to while exploring the beautiful green world.

There was a moment, Aqua said, when she saved a couple children from some Heartless that suddenly popped up on the outskirts of Corona city. They hadn’t been giant Heartless and were relatively easy to dispatch, but it was concerning that they had come so close to the settlement. After she’d gotten rid of the Heartless, the children had come up to her and thanked her.

‘They called me a hero,’ Aqua said, sounding perplexed. ‘I’m not a hero, Terra.’

Terra didn’t entirely understand why she’d feel that way. Of course Aqua is a hero. She spent years trapped in the Realm of Darkness, never giving into it and always keeping faith in the light. She gave up her chance at rescue to save Riku, and not to mention she never stopped lighting his own way back to the Realm of Light. So there was no doubt in his mind of Aqua’s heroism.

‘You are a hero,’ he told her. ‘Trust me.’

‘But I’m not!’ Aqua shook her head, frustrated. ‘I may be good at my job, but when it mattered I failed! I failed to stop Xehanort, failed to save you and Ven, and I let myself be consumed by darkness. I don’t understand why anyone would call me a hero.’

‘You didn’t fail, Aqua. Yeah, you didn’t stop Xehanort in Radiant Garden, but you did save me, and you protected Ven. That’s not nothing.’

‘Yes, and look how that turned out,’ she said bitterly. ‘I ended up letting Xehanort loose to do whatever he wanted in the Realm of Light, while I was trapped in the Realm of Darkness. He destroyed so many worlds and lives and no one was there to stop him until it was almost too late.’

‘Then why did you do it?’ he challenged her. ‘You could’ve left me and Xehanort in the Realm of Darkness and you would’ve been free to keep the Realm of Light safe.’

She looked at him with glassy eyes. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘I just… reacted. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you to the darkness.’

Sometimes, in his worse moments, he wishes she’d left him and Xehanort in the Realm of Darkness and saved herself. Maybe he would’ve been completely lost to Xehanort’s darkness, but at least he wouldn’t have had to endure years of having his heart enslaved to Xehanort, doing Xehanort’s will, and enduring the memories of what Xehanort, Xemnas and Xehanort’s Heartless had done to the worlds. And Aqua wouldn’t have had to endure being trapped in the Realm of Darkness and would’ve been there to protect the worlds, as she was supposed to be.

But in his better moments, he is grateful to be alive and free and with Aqua and Ven again, even if he has to put up with the dark memories, the guilt and the trauma, and he’s glad Aqua chose the way she did.

‘If anyone isn’t a hero, it’s me,’ he added. ‘You at least tried to save the worlds. I went astray, got myself possessed by Xehanort and had to watch while he destroyed the worlds.’ And was also forced to help him, he thought but did not say.

‘Why would you say that?’ Aqua snapped. ‘You don’t get to call me a hero and then turn around and say that you’re not one. You’re one of the most heroic people I know.’

‘And you’re one of the most heroic people I know,’ he snapped back at her. Then her words sunk in properly and he said, ‘You really think that?’

‘Of course I do!’ Aqua’s eyes glared him, as if daring him to deny it. ‘You spent ten years never giving up, never falling to darkness, always fighting against Xehanort. You guided me when I was in the Realm of Darkness and protected me and Ven when he attacked us in Enchanted Dominion. And you saved our lives when he tried to kill us in the Keyblade Graveyard with his corrupted chains. Why wouldn’t I think you’re a hero?’

Oh. For a moment he didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never thought of himself as a hero, and everything he’d went through during his possession made him think that he definitely isn’t a hero. So for Aqua to call him one felt… strange. However, it also warmed his heart.        

Then he thought of something else and couldn’t help but laugh.

‘What is it?’ Aqua demanded, with some exasperation in her voice.

‘Well…’ He looked at her with gentle, dancing eyes. ‘If you think I’m a hero, and I think you’re a hero, then maybe we are heroes, at least to each other?’    

‘I…’ Aqua paused and thought about it for a moment. ‘I don’t know. I suppose that makes sense. But after everything, losing myself to darkness, attacking Mickey and Riku, failing so many times and making so many mistakes, it feels hard thinking of myself as a hero. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.’

‘I know what you mean,’ he said quietly. ‘I feel the same way. But we can try. Like Riku reminded me not so long ago, everyone makes mistakes. Even heroes.’

Aqua was silent for a long moment, then nodded. ‘You’re right. Riku is right, too. Do you think it’ll get easier, with time? Will we be able to forgive ourselves?’

‘I don’t know,’ Terra said slowly. He took her hand and squeezed it gently. ‘I hope so. It’s the only thing we have.’                 

[mimiplaysgames]

The Bed Story, ch. 3 (Hero)

Terraqua Week 2024, Day 3

Terra/Aqua | Terra/Anti-Aqua Rating: M Word count: 4,680 @terraquaweek

Summary: Terra meets Anti-Aqua, and he's sorry for the things they did and didn't do.

Read on AO3

A/N: Uhhhhh y'all should know... Did I push the boundary so hard between SFW and NSFW? YEP. YEP AND I'M NOT SORRY hahahaha

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They chose to “practice” in the woods. Terra wouldn’t call it practicing like Aqua did. He preferred “experimenting.” 

Keyblades were a magic of frequency—it was how one bearer built trust with the other. If desperate and needy, Terra sensed Rainfell near, or Wayward Wind, the Defender, like a soft landing or a refuge. Whether he was trapped by a storm, lost in the mountains, or lost at night when he didn’t know if he could survive the training he had to endure, Aqua was next door. Or outside training. Or in the library. Rainfell left a thread he could trace when he couldn’t defeat his mind. Terra sensed Aqua’s Light, therefore Rainfell existed. 

Aqua summoned Rainfell and twirled it in loops like a baton and Terra… closed his eyes and meditated. Banished thoughts of Aqua’s waist and her eyes like the sea reflected in the daylight. 

“Are you finished?” Aqua asked with a smile in her voice.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt me.”

“I’m considering the fact that we need as much time as we can get.”

“You’re so practical.” His eyes were still closed. 

“You’re evading.”

Terra kneaded his face. “I’m getting ready.”

“Rainfell is not going to hurt you.”

Ha. It was time for the playful approach. “I’m trying to settle Earthshaker for you. It’s pretty heavy.”

Aqua stopped her twirling and clicked her tongue. “You think I can’t pick it up?”

Terra smirked. “Nope.”

“Give it to me.”

Terra held his breath and clenched his teeth behind tight lips so she wouldn’t see how nervous he was. 

“What if Rainfell doesn’t want me to hold it?”

She shrugged one shoulder and landed a hand to her hip. “I know it doesn’t mind.”

“What if Earthshaker reacts badly? Or something?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Do… you not want me to wield it?”

“Of course I do.” Of course he didn’t.

Aqua squinted, reading whatever she wanted to read on his face, then rolled her eyes. “You’re taunting me.” She motioned with her hand. “Give it here.”

This wasn’t a duel, though, where Terra would taunt until she told him to be quiet. 

He needed an advantage. He needed to see what Rainfell would expose so he knew what to hide with Earthshaker. “Rainfell first.”

She slapped his hand away. “You were challenging me. Give it.”

He paused, but not long enough to make her suspicious. He summoned Earthshaker, and offered the hilt. 

She swapped Rainfell. Earthshaker sagged to the ground and her biceps flexed to keep it up. She stuck her tongue out at him. “I can carry it fine.”

Rainfell was bizarrely light-weight. Already, its energy swirled up his forearm. It knew his touch was foreign, and its frequency invaded his mind like it was sniffing him out. It recognized him. Terra had to hold Rainfell firm as if it was strapped to a leash, only because it was a Keyblade that created its strength through a buildup of magic in order to stand up against Earthshaker’s massive girth. Therefore, it needed persistent and meticulous control. Otherwise, it spun. 

Aqua worked on her unstable posture as she swung Earthshaker, frowning. 

“Are you sure it’s not too heavy for you?”

She frowned harder. Earthshaker was burdensome. His Keyblade was the entire reason why Terra built this much muscle to prove himself to Earthshaker’s unwavering judgment. When Aqua swung, she lost the tiniest bit of momentum as her dexterity overcorrected. 

“Why are you—” She pinched her lips.

Terra held his breath. Rainfell hummed, reading a book he was trying to snap closed. “What?”

Aqua let Earthshaker fall. Its teeth landed on the ground with a thud and Terra flinched. “Terra, do you have something to say to me?”

Terra swallowed. “No.”

“Then why do you… Terra, I’m not holier than you.”

“Excuse me?” His heart hammered. This was a stars-cursed idea, and he couldn’t keep down the feelings that he never wanted surfaced. Memories of Aqua losing one duel, or scoring lower than him on a test, and how he had measured his worth against her by numbers: grades, wins, and the number of her losses which equated to the number of times he went to bed reassured that he looked like a hero standing next to her. 

“Is that what you’re worried about? That you’re—?” She looked away. “This is so childish.”

“If you’re attacking me, why are you so defensive?”

“I’m not attacking you.”

“I’m not childish.”

“I’m trying to knock some sense into you.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

Rainfell jarred in his fist. It was about to lose control. And Terra needed to stay in control. Terra gripped it tighter, and Aqua actually yelped. Rainfell grew dark and heated, like he had a hand inside her lungs. 

Really dark. Admiration hiding behind large tomes turned into daggers across a classroom and nights full of worries. Studying extra to outwin the next fight. How Aqua relied so much on speed and learned Terra so well that she learned how to outwit everything anyone threw at her so in the end, her chin, and the crown she wore on her head, was held highest. Terra became force unmoving, so he made Aqua unbeatable.

Earthshaker must be angry too. 

“You think you know everything?” Terra said before he stopped himself. “Between you and me, I’m not the favorite.”

Aqua’s lips trembled before she steadied them. “I have never said that. Ever.”

“You don't have to. You don’t say half of what’s on your mind to begin with.”

“Forget this. Give me Rainfell back.”

“I’m not done.” But Terra stopped. Suddenly Rainfell… cried? Aqua’s face was brave, her eyes boring into his and ready for the challenge. But Rainfell? 

Terra lowered his voice, lowered his defenses, and breathed slowly. Gently, he said, “I’m sorry. But you’re not right.”

The knot in Aqua’s throat bobbed. 

“You matter to the Master just as much as I do,” Terra said. 

Aqua stared at the grass. “He sees you as his son. I have to work to get that same attention.”

“Oh, you want him to be hard on you?” Terra scoffed, too accusatory. “Are you kidding me? He’s easier on you because he trusts that you’re—” He almost said better. “Good. More than that, you shine. You’re brilliant.”

Aqua gaped, and Earthshaker sagged from the weight of Terra’s implied inferiority. Stars. Rainfell stilled, like it gulped a fist of air. 

“Brilliant?” Rainfell weeped with her, and Terra could cry with her. He was stupid. “Terra, all I’m trying to say is we’re going to perform just fine in the exam.”

Would they though? Terra didn’t say it, but Rainfell understood. Aqua shook her head in denial and wiped a tear from her face. For not saying anything, Aqua said so much. Rainfell reached to him for a hug, and Terra felt the welcome of a blanket in winter. 

Stars. Terra’s heart hammered, and of course, Earthshaker sent her the same signals. A hug for what he didn’t want to ever talk about with her. Aqua, all I’ve ever wanted was to match up to you. He kept that to himself, and he wasn’t certain if Earthshaker had the capability to translate it. He hoped not.

But Aqua nodded, and brought Earthshaker’s hilt to her forehead, whispering a prayer.

Terra didn’t hear the prayer, but he felt the intention: a truce. Terra though hated this image of Aqua offering an olive branch when this shouldn’t have happened in the first place. 

Terra twirled Rainfell. It was calm in his grip, trusting him. Apology accepted. So how would they move on? 

Again, it was time for the playful approach. “I don’t know how you can fight with this. It’s like a feather.” 

Aqua laughed into Earthshaker’s hilt. And Terra felt it, like a breath on his cheek with her arms around him. “It will electrocute you,” she said.

“Oh, whatever. All I would feel is a little zap on the wrist.” Bingo—his intention to lighten the mood worked and she rolled her eyes. He flipped Rainfell in the air and caught it. “See? Easy. Earthshaker could break your face.”

“Wouldn’t that mean Earthshaker would break your face if I’m the one holding it?” She smirked with haughtiness. Stars, he loved it when she did that.

“If you can wield it properly.”

“I am.”

Stars, he loved it when she spoke to him that way.

“If I swing Rainfell too hard, it will snap in half.”

“I can sit here and tolerate your useless excuses or we can actually spar.”

He opened his arms as if to expose himself to a direct strike, but he knew she wouldn’t be able to take a swing. “Your funeral.”

“Don’t you mean yours?”

He stepped closer to get in her face, and for some reason, Rainfell jolted like a heart skipped.

“The truth is, I’m stronger than you.” He tapped Earthshaker, and again, Rainfell jumped, its vibration beating. 

For some reason, Aqua’s breath trembled. “Prove it,” she whispered, and one more time, Rainfell throbbed. It liked this? She liked this?

He liked it, too.

Stars, he shouldn't indulge. He struck her with Rainfell and she defended, although Earthshaker made her sluggish, hanging too low. Aqua held her ground. She shook, but she fortified herself with her magic against his brute blow. 

“I just did,” he said, near whispering, Rainfell too excited now.

She smirked. "No, you didn't," she said, her breath on his face. Biceps and forearms flexing, she filled Earthshaker with her spells, and pushed him off. Their blades slid and cracked with sparks before disconnecting. 

She smiled (blushed?), and flicked her head to get her hair out of her eyes.

"Made you sweat, didn't I?" Terra felt proud of that. Earthshaker was too cumbersome for her style, making this an eventual easy win.

Somehow, she was prouder. "Made you nervous, didn't I?"

Terra bit his lip. His heart was about to crawl out of his esophagus if she was going to keep talking to him like that. He swung Rainfell in slices around himself. "Again. But hold Earthshaker right this time? You're embarrassing yourself."

Aqua lifted Earthshaker to test its weight and find an equilibrium for herself. Earthshaker fell, unbalanced, and she caught the blade with her free hand before it hit her head. 

“So ridiculous,” she muttered. “Your craftsmanship is ridiculous.” But that wasn’t what Terra felt. Adoration. She caressed his blade, and Terra wished she adored his physique. 

Yet wasn’t Earthshaker an extension of his muscle? Could he let himself have that daydream, of her admiring him? Of her tracing the divots on his skin? Could imagine himself tracing the clavicle peeking out of her leotard?

Wait. What was Rainfell doing, swelling in his hand?

Terra shouldn’t be thinking this. Terra was too late. He felt a hand pressed on his chest, gliding down as Aqua's fingers skated over the edge of Earthshaker’s blade. Moving down to his navel. He gasped. 

Where was his mind? To spare his composure, Terra rolled his shoulders and… well, what he was supposed to say? That Rainfell looked like Aqua, curved and menacing, and that it made sense it was her counterpart to her fluid movement? To the way her body kept form so differently from him, like water that bent around his boulder?

That hand moved lower.

Where was Rainfell? In his hand, squeezed too tightly. 

“Terra?” Her eyes were closed and she shivered.

He groaned. “Yeah?”

Rainfell responded—that hug it offered was now hands on his face, a thumb wiping the edge of his mouth. He nearly kissed it, but he would be kissing air. 

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” He should give Rainfell back.

Where was his mind? Wishing her lips were gasping for his until he stopped breathing. 

Aqua brought her hand to her heart, concentrating on what Earthshaker was saying. 

“Come on,” Terra said, mortified at what exactly Earthshaker was saying. That traitor.

But Aqua heard, giving her the advantage. And Rainfell needed. Aqua's thumb stroked Earthshaker’s hilt, and her hand skated over the flat edge of his blade. Between Terra’s legs burned, and he stumbled back onto a tree. He touched his own lips, and pretended they were her fingers.

Wait, why was he the one holding himself up by the tree? Why was Aqua the one left standing? 

So he did the same. He stroked Rainfell’s blade with a firm finger and Aqua’s breath hitched. She closed her eyes and hunched over. Her lips were flushed. Panting. 

Her lips, her lips, her lips. Left standing. He should let it go. Release the feeling. Say they’re being silly. Wish they could go back to being children, to the day they met, to before when such things never crossed his mind… so he could experience this fall for her all over again until they inevitably came here, with his shoulders tense against bark while he savored his blood coursing across his body and he savored the image of her enjoying what she felt. Yes. Rainfell said yes.

He should not step forward. He should not drop Rainfell and run to her, snatching her into his arms, meeting his lips to hers, running his hands up her waist and gliding his fingers underneath her straps to feel the warmth of her bare skin. 

But he did. And she welcomed him. She held onto Earthshaker, and Terra thought yes, please touch it, please taste me, please let me touch you. Her free hand was in his hair, and she invited his tongue in, and her hips pressed onto his. 

In a moment, exactly what he wanted. In the next, the void. 

“What are we doing?” Aqua gasped and pulled away, dropping Earthshaker. It left Terra breathless.

“I don’t know.” But he did. She knew Earthshaker. He knew Rainfell. He knew they both wanted this.

Aqua wouldn’t say anything, and he needed to know. “I’m sorry,” he said, not sure what he was sorry for, except for the empty space between his hands. “I—Let me give you Rainfell back.”

So he would feel what she wasn’t saying. He was terrified Rainfell would tell him it was regret (please don’t let it be regret), but Aqua didn’t give him the chance. Aqua summoned it back before he could reach it. 

She tucked her hair behind her ears, and it sprung forward. “Terra, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.”

“But—”

“You—”

“I—”

“It’s okay.” Terra lifted his hands in surrender. “It’s okay. I… I liked it.” He reached for her but she hid her face behind her hands.

“Terra, all I wanted to say was that we are equals.”

Oh. “We are.”

A pause. “I... This is bad timing.” Another pause, and Terra was suspended, waiting for her word. “I can’t think here.”

"I-I'm sorry," he said.

Aqua left the thicket on the route back to the castle, away from her failed experiment.

“I’m sorry,” she kept saying. “I’m sorry.”

~*~

Sleeping on the floor? Means a sore back. 

Terra grunts when he sits up, and drags himself onto the loveseat, stretching his legs. He doesn’t remember his dreams, but honestly, he’s sick of dreaming, and doesn’t want another one for the rest of his life. 

Bleached sunlight pierces the windows, washing everything in a cold glow. It’s so quiet. Which is natural. The castle is too large for four people, let alone three. Yet unnatural. The grandfather clock in the study is broken, so there’s no tick-tick-tick. Instead, Terra can hear every groan in the wood, and cracked plaster decaying as the castle shifts in the wind, grasping onto splinters that will snap at any moment. His duty to do something to prevent the castle from collapsing entirely, or from his world losing itself to Darkness. 

But Earthshaker…

Terra extends his arm and flexes his fingers, waiting for the hum in the negative space between that signals his Keyblade answering the call. Suppose though, Terra has failed his Earthshaker, therefore he has failed himself, which means Earthshaker has passed its judgment on its very own wielder. 

Terra exhales. He’s making excuses. Terra is the one judging Terra. The Guardian is gone, vanquished by Terra’s Light. That’s what Ven said what happened. Terra has to believe that.

“Come on,” he says, begging this time, but it’s like Earthshaker is shaking its head. “What do you want me to do?”

No answer, just a vacancy. 

“So how am I going to fix anything?”

To be honest, Earthshaker wouldn’t have the answers anyway. It’s as clueless as Terra.

Terra gives up, rubbing the empty space between his fingers. Would Xehanort have this problem? 

No, Xehanort was a well of knowledge. Terra had felt it, in those years of blackness. Striding confidence, lustful curiosity, and unwavering strength that was a hurricane and an earthquake all at once. Everything that Terra still wants to be to this day, and in those years when he barely existed, he got a taste of what that felt like every time Xehanort won. Every time Xehanort…

Wielded his ornate silver Keyblade, the one with no name. Stars, that Keyblade is old, more ancient than the Defender, rich with secrets, and addicting to hold.

Terra extends his hand, and gracefully asks No Name to please answer his call, in a way like he’s bowing with respect and reverence. Maybe there is a connection between Terra and this Keyblade since they have made contact, skin to metal. There has to be. His heart bows even lower, head to the floor.

“Please, come,” he says. “I have questions, and I…”

Need you.

Terra snatches his hand back. What is he thinking?

Eraqus would have… what, punished Aqua for turning the way she did? Become disappointed in her? Be sad? Be sorry.

But where Eraqus saw failure, Xehanort would have seen opportunity for progress, experimentation, and resolution. Xehanort would have had answers. And if Xehanort were still alive, Terra today would have the resources he needs.

He extends his hand again. He’s willing to exchange all his power for a chance of pain, for a chance that Earthshaker will reject him if that’s the cost, for a chance to listen to what the Fairytale Keybearers have to whisper. All he needs is one clue he’s failed to notice. But No Name doesn’t reply.

Which means Terra isn’t…

“Terra!” Ven slams the door open. He waves his arms like an octopus electrocuted. “There’s those… those fucking things outside! Heartless!”

“What?” That’s impossible. The Land of Departure is supposed to be a fortress against forces that Dark.

Then again, those storms raged all night. 

“Stars,” Terra curses, and grabs the Master’s satchel full of the potions he brewed last night, then follows Ven. The castle shakes hard enough that Ven saves himself by holding onto the railing, where Terra nearly tumbles down the stairs. 

“What’s happening?” Ven cries out.

Darkness paints everything black, like nightfall with the new moon and no stars. Flickers. Then it brightens again. The Land of Departure is going to fall. 

“Terra?” 

There’s what sounds like a rumbling explosion, and they both hold on. Some part of the castle is crumbling into the canyon below. 

“Don’t worry,” Terra says. “Let’s go.”

Outside, storm clouds brush the sky dull and desaturated. Heartless approach from the mountain in factions, slithering everywhere, but they keep their distance from Defender at the Master’s memorial. 

Ven summons Wayward Wind and charges forward. Terra stays behind on the terrace, hurling explosive vials at Heartless near the castle. It’s a bad plan—a shitty one, if Terra gives himself the permission to use foul language. He only has seven vials.

Terra slams a vial into a Heartless jumping on him. It doesn’t do much except push it back. He needs his—

“You have no Keyblade?” Ven stumbles when a Heartless jumps onto his back. So Ven yells. Really yells, and circling blades of screeching Light wipes out the population of Heartless threatening the castle.

More come from the forest.

“When were you going to tell me you have no Keyblade?” Ven catches his breath, back at the terrace. He frowns from exhaustion. “Where is Earthshaker?”

“I don’t know.” 

Ven takes a moment to compose himself, then nods. He smiles something courageous and prepared, as if this is a test he’s been wanting to pass. A wish granted, really. Ven has always wanted to be trusted and relied on. “Stay here. I can take care of this.” 

“Wait, Ven—”

But Ven storms ahead, toward the next wave of Heartless. They’re impatient, crawling over each other in twitching mounds.

Terra has to do something. He jabs his hand into the satchel, but there are no more vials. 

What is he going to do? 

The Defender. On instinct, Terra dashes down the terrace and extends his hand, almost touching the dormant Keyblade waiting to be used. Almost. For a short, tiny moment, Terra hesitates. This Keyblade, like No Name, defines a Master. What if it rejects him, too?

That moment of hesitation is when Aqua arrives. She flies over the roof of the castle, her lithe body flipping before she lands on the ground. 

She summons her—a—Keyblade and faces Ven, ready to attack him.

Ven. Shock. Hangs back. Hand up to his face like he’s preparing for a blow.

Aqua. Furious.

“No!” Terra rushes and steps in front of Ven, his vulnerable, defenseless body a shield. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Wait, Terra,” Ven says.

“Ven, stay behind me.”

“Ven needs to stand down,” Aqua says, her voice steady.

It’s too much to swallow. Aqua. The Heartless. This strange Keyblade. “Aqua, our home is falling apart.”

“Stand. Down.” The Heartless behind her blend and separate, eyes and twig-like limbs engorged into their thin skin like they’re malleable clay. 

Terra needs a quiet moment, a clear head. “Whose Keyblade is that?” It’s tacky, unfitting for Aqua’s grace. 

“Some Keyblades don’t have Masters,” is her only answer. 

Like Defender. Like No Name. Aqua the Master of all. But this one is different. Where every Keyblade is a single bright star in the dark, this one comes from a white sky, and this star is black. An opposite, from the Realm of Darkness.

“Where is Rainfell?” It has to exist. Aqua’s star is still there, far away, hidden by expansive galaxies that a telescope is needed. But it’s there, so therefore, Rainfell lives.

Her jaw locks. “How do you think you survived falling into Darkness?”

Terra’s mouth goes dry. “No…”

“I gave it to you, so you could stay in the Realm of Light.”

Stars. Stars, stars, stars, please don’t let that be true. Again, Terra cries in front of her. 

In a pathetic attempt to get her approval and keep the situation under control, Terra weakly says, “We can find it. Together. I’ll help you.”

She stares.

“This isn’t right.” He waves at the Heartless squirming, who are waiting for her command to move forward. “This isn’t you.”

Her eyes widen in a wild glare. “What isn’t me, exactly?”

“You…” He doesn’t have an answer. “Aqua, I want to help. Isn’t that what you want from me?” Terra claws at his chest, wanting her to see how much his heart is hurting. “My help? Isn’t that the least you deserve? What else can I do for you? I want you better. I want you happy.”

“Better.” Again, she finds that offensive.

“Is that it, then?” He drops his hands, defeated. 

“Terra, stop.” Ven mumbles.

“That’s okay,” Terra continues. “It’s okay to hate me.”

Aqua shudders, that predatory rage about to burst.

“I hate you?” She steps forward, and Terra has the sense that she’s about to stab him.

“No.” He holds his hands up, yielding. After everything she’s been through for him, it’s never been hate. Not even close. “It was a stupid thing to say.”

“I hate you?” she repeats, through fangs.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He wishes Rainfell were near, so he can touch it, and listen to what Aqua isn’t saying, and tell her what he’s too dense to articulate.

She pauses within a few feet. The Heartless inch closer.

“Aqua,” Ven pleads, “come on.”

“Aqua,” Terra says, “we can’t do this. You can’t let these Heartless stay. I mean we’re Keybearers.” 

“You think I forgot?”

“No. Stars, Aqua—”

“What would you do to them, Terra?” she says, raising her voice. “Where do you think they go if we vanquish them?”

“To Kingdom Hearts—”

“Do you even know where or what that is?” She points to the smallest one, straggling away from the hoard as it scratches its antenna. “You’d do that to her?”

“Her?”

“She’s just a little girl.”

Ven pulls on Terra’s shirt. “Stop fighting,” he says, so quietly. 

Terra reads her face, her deciphered language. Her frantic eyes, the way they shiver, looking for an answer far away in the moon she’s always seeing. 

“Aqua,” Terra says gently, needing to embrace her. Enclose the gap, fill the void between him and his Aqua, who will always be Aqua, and who will always have his heart. “I would never let that happen to you.”

“But you look at me like I’m the same as them.” She snarls. Which isn’t true, it isn’t. She’s living, she’s feeling. Huffing, Aqua composes herself. With a fist in the air, the Heartless retreat. “They stay.” 

“They can’t—”

“They stay in the forest and won’t go near the castle. You see?” she says with a sneer. “I want you happy, too.”

She dissipates, her fog following her little ones into the thicket. 

Terra, his adrenaline now dissolving, falls to his knees. He didn’t want to watch her leave. Didn’t. Doesn’t. Doesn’t ever want to watch her leave ever again. Please don’t go. 

Losing the strength to keep himself up, Terra keels over and lands on his forearms, dropping his head to the ground in silent tears. This spot, this is exactly the spot: Master Eraqus’s final resting place, now pummeled by tears.

Ven shifts his feet. “I don’t think she would have hurt me,” he says carefully, but unsure. 

“Ven, you need to know… The Master—”

“I know.” So gently, so quietly.

“I didn’t want to hurt him. I just wanted him to stop.”

“I know.”

Terra splinters, cracks, breaks into sobs. “I just wanted her to stop.” 

Ven kneels and rubs Terra’s back. “Hey, you know what? You did make her stop. Things are okay.”

Terra can’t breathe through the crying.

“Everything is calm now, see? You’re exactly what Zack says, even without a Keyblade.”

A hero? Ven says this to cheer Terra up, to show how much Terra matters to a boy who’s grown to look up and admire. Ven is so wrong. 

Ven gives Terra time to compose himself, and when the tears dry up and Terra’s eyes sting as he rubs them, he says, “I need to teach you something.”

Ven perks up. “Sure.”

“You’re going to create a barrier against the Heartless, so they don’t get to the castle.”

“But she said…”

“... Just in case.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Ven steps forward, gripping Wayward Wind in both his hands.

“It feels like pulling out a thread of your heart and orienting it into the ground." Terra settles, on his knees. "Remember to give her safe passage back home.”

“How do I do that?”

“Your Keyblade is your heart, Ven. You want her home.”

“Yeah. Okay, that makes sense.”

Ven draws on the ground with the tip of Wayward Wind, and a sparkling thread trails behind. A small little gesture, but powerful. He traces an arc around the patio, keeping the Master’s memorial protected as well. 

They wait a few minutes as lightning strikes green in the horizon.

“What do we do now?” Ven asks when he’s done. He doesn’t will Wayward Wind away, too tense to let go. 

“We do the back as well.”

“And then?”

On the ground where Eraqus fell, Terra’s tears have soaked the fractured concrete. “We find Rainfell.”

[terraquaweek]

We keep going even when it’s getting tough.

It’s Day 3!! Who is your HERO? 💪

[a-crack-in-the-universe]

Reflection

Terraqua Week Day 2 - Reflection

@terraquaweek

They are home, but nothing is the same.

Aqua is afraid of her own reflection. Terra cannot bear to look at his for fear of seeing silver hair and golden eyes staring back.

One day, Ven has gone to Twilight Town to visit Roxas, Xion, Axel and Namine. Terra and Aqua stay behind in the Land of Departure to do some much-needed cleaning (and also have some alone time together). They spend most of the day either playing command board, sparring, cleaning, or cooking, and they are content.

At one point, late during the day, they are sitting at the kitchen table eating some fudge brownies that they’d baked—well, Aqua baked and Terra helped—and chatting about various things, like what’s going on in the other worlds, missions they’ve been on, and what plans they have to rebuild the Land of Departure. They don’t speak of Master Eraqus—that is a forbidden topic, at least for now.

Then one of them accidentally knocks a glass of juice off the table while animatedly gesturing while trying to recount a particularly entertaining mission they went on in Atlantica, and Aqua goes to get a dustpan and cloth to tidy up the glass and wipe the spillage away.

It happens so quickly. One moment Aqua has left the room; the next, Terra hears Aqua scream.

A terror he’s only felt once or twice before strikes him. He can’t lose Aqua again, not now. He runs as fast as he can toward the storeroom, hoping and praying that he is not too late.

He finds Aqua curled up on the floor. The shattered glass remains of a mirror lay next to her.

‘Aqua?’ He approaches her tentatively, unsure what to expect from her. ‘I’m here.’

She jerks her head up and stares at him with wide eyes. ‘Terra? You’re supposed to be in the Realm of Light!’

‘I am in the Realm of Light. We both are,’ he reminds her. ‘Don’t you remember? You came back from the Realm of Darkness, woke Ven up, we all fought Xehanort and after it was all over we came home, to the Land of Departure.’

‘Home…’ She squints at him. It takes a long moment, but understanding fills her eyes. ‘Yes. I remember.’

He kneels on the glass-ridden floor and tries to hold her in his arms and still her trembling body, but she just jerks away from him with a wary, almost scared look in her eyes. He tries not to show how much that hurts. Xehanort used his body to cause so much pain to a lot of people, and he doesn’t blame anyone if they are wary of him at first. But it’s especially painful when Aqua shies away from him. Aqua, who usually is the first to defend him. It makes him wonder what she really thinks about him.   

‘What happened to the mirror?’ he asks gently. He has a fairly good idea of what happened, but he needs to hear it from her.

‘Mirror?’ Aqua frowns at him, then appears to remember. She looks at the broken glass on the floor. ‘I destroyed it. I saw her, my shadow… in there. She’s haunting me. I can’t escape her, even here…’

Then she cries. It breaks his heart to see the normally cool, collected Aqua crying, especially knowing that it is his fault. She would never have this trauma if she hadn’t been trapped in the Realm of Darkness, and she wouldn’t have been trapped there if it weren’t for him being possessed by Xehanort. So, it is his fault, no matter what she might say about that.

Part of him is unsure what to do, but he knows he can’t just leave her like this on the floor. So, to hell with any protest she might have. He pulls her into his arms, holds onto her tightly, and carries her out of the storeroom and to her bedroom. She doesn’t resist this time, to his relief. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if she’d fought back or refused to move.

He carries her to her bedroom and settles her in her bed. When he turns to go, he feels a cold hand grab his arm and hears Aqua rasp, ‘Don’t go. Stay with me. Please?’

So he stays. He crawls underneath the bedcovers next to Aqua, and Aqua sighs and rests her head on his shoulder, as if she can relax with him there.

He doesn’t know how long they lay there together like this. Neither of them says anything and Aqua eventually drifts off into a surprisingly peaceful sleep. He on the other hand is plagued by unwelcome thoughts. Thoughts of Xehanort, of the darkness, of the damage he’d caused and the lives he’d ruined, and everything the old man had done while using his body. Aqua and Ventus had forgiven him (Terra), but he isn’t sure he can forgive himself. Especially after everything he did to Aqua.

Just past sunset, Aqua awakens and smiles tiredly at him.

‘Sleep well?’ he asks her.

She nods.

‘Good,’ he says, trying but failing to smile back at her. He can’t stop thinking those dark thoughts.

‘Thank you,’ Aqua breathes out. ‘For being there. And for staying.’ She smiles at him again, and he can’t help but think that she is so beautiful and he doesn’t really deserve her. How he could hurt her so easily with one twist of his big hands.  

‘You’re welcome,’ he says. ‘Always.’   

-------------- 

Three days later, Aqua walks into Terra’s bedroom to find him staring at his bedroom mirror.

She knows instantly what this means. He’s done this a few times already in the past since they came back, as if searching for any sign that Xehanort is still within him. He’s gone into some place deep inside of him. It doesn’t happen often, but that doesn’t make it any less scary to her.

‘Terra, he’s not here. Xehanort’s gone. You’re free.’

He doesn’t respond. Her heart clenches painfully. There are many things she can endure, but she couldn’t bear to lose Terra, especially not to whatever darkness he is in.

She grabs his hand, shakes it. Then she does the same to his shoulder. ‘Terra, please… he’s gone. You’re not him.’   

She’s practically begging, but she can’t help it. She doesn’t know what she’d do if she loses Terra again, and she doesn’t want to find out.

She keeps begging and eventually he finally comes back to himself and notices her there. But the only thing he does is turn and hold her close and bury his face in her hair. He’s trembling—she can feel him shaking, and his tears dampening her hair.

It hurts to see him like this. They haven’t talked much about what they both went through while separated, but she’s seen enough of his nightmares and moments like this one to get an idea of how bad it had been for him. She wishes that she can wipe away all of his pain, but she can’t. She can only hold his hand and help him through the worst of it.    

‘You scared me,’ she murmurs, once they’ve both calmed down enough to speak. ‘What happened?’

Terra draws a shuddering breath. ‘I don’t know,’ he whispers. ‘Not really. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything he did in my body, everything I helped him do. And I thought… How do we know he is really gone? I’m back to myself, but I have memories that I shouldn’t have. What if something went wrong, and a piece of him is still inside of me?’

She keeps hold of his hand, anchoring him to reality. ‘Terra, look at me,’ she orders. He looks. ‘You need to trust yourself. Xehanort’s gone, and he’s not coming back. He’s not going to hurt you or anyone else ever again.’  

‘I can’t,’ he says. ‘I can’t trust myself. Not after everything that he did—that I did.’  

‘If you can’t trust yourself, then trust me,’ she says. ‘I know you, and I know you’d never hurt me or Ven. Remember when you came back in the Keyblade Graveyard? Xehanort attacked us and was about to let us fall to our deaths, but you swooped in and saved our lives. We’d both be dead if it weren’t for you.’

‘I remember.’ Tears stand in his eyes. ‘Bits and pieces. I knew he was about to kill you both to get at me, and I couldn’t let that happen. I had to protect you somehow.’

She squeezes his hand gently. ‘You did protect us. You’ve always wanted to protect us. You would never hurt us. Ven and I have always known that.’

And he believes her—because he does trust her, more than he trusts himself at this point, probably. She can see it in his eyes. It scares her a bit, because she did fail at pretty much everything she set out to do, except keeping Ven safe. And she treated Terra badly in the days leading up to his possession and her imprisonment in the Realm of Darkness—she can see that now. It bewilders her sometimes that Terra can still trust her or even like her, but she’s also just happy to have him in her life again, so she never mentions it at all.    

‘Yeah,’ Terra sighs. ‘You’re right. I just have trouble believing it sometimes.’

‘Then believe me,’ she says. ‘You’re the kindest, most protective person I know. You would never hurt anyone, least of all us.’

He takes a deep breath, nods, and smiles tearily at her. She smiles back. She loves seeing him smile. It lights up his entire face.

Now that he’s calmed down, she supposes that she could just leave him, but somehow she doesn’t like that idea. What if he spirals again? He needs someone with him to remind him that he is not alone. Besides, she wants to be there for him like he’s been there for her in her darker moments.

And so she leads them both to the bed and settles down on it. Terra follows suit, though he hesitates at first.   

‘You don’t have to stay,’ he says quietly.

‘Of course I do,’ she responds. ‘You need me. We need each other. We support each other—that’s what we do.’

And so they lay on the bed together, Aqua resting her head on Terra’s shoulder and smiling.

They both close their eyes, and before they drift off to a much-needed sleep Aqua thinks she hears Terra mumble under his breath, ‘Thank you, Aqua.’