Mirror, Mirror chapter 7
This is the also the chapter where the ff.net chapters leave off.
Mirror, Mirror
Chapter 07 - In Which Six Shots are Fired, Heard by All
original author: finem
Zexion stared down at the cold steel, placed so casually before him. It was only with the highest level of self-control that he managed to keep his face from betraying the level of not-quite disgust and could-have-been horror spawned by the weapon. His gaze immediately flew to Demyx who was watching him with wide frightened eyes from across the room. One look told him that it would be in very bad form for him to respond poorly to the situation, and there really was no other way to get around it at the moment.
"Of course," Zexion said, face as impassive as ever. Inside however, his mind was buzzing. He was a scientist, damn it! He studied, he probed, he pondered and hypothesized. Nowhere on his resume was “cold-blooded murder,” and he had no intention of adding it ... but he also had no clue how he would get around this without raising suspicion. For the time being, it looked like he would be able to think while the game progressed.
The Cheshire Cat glared acid at him, while the Queen preening as she turner her attention back to the game board. During the short discussion, the remaining pieces had placed themselves in position. Zexion looked out over the field, studying them. Based on what he had learned so far about this world, he imagined nothing to exist but violence once the game began.
Sephiroth's Cloud took his place as the White King. Across the board in the corresponding black position stood a figure that Zexion did not recognize. He was tall and broad with deep-set dramatic eyes. His honey-brown hair was pulled back in a low tail. There was a certain contained savagery in his posture; something beastly that the faux Superior could not quite put his finger on. He noted with no small interest that the man’s queen was yet another Princess of Heart. Belle, the delicate beauty from the world Xaldin had been assigned to. She was completely dwarfed by the Black King, but the Queen was meant to be one of the most powerful players on the board. Looks could be deceiving. Zexion, more than anyone, knew this.
The Queen of Hearts gave a slight nod and Naminé stood before the gathered observers. She raised a small golden gong and mallet, striking once to call the attention of everyone in the area. Turing her back to the tea party, she addressed the players on the board.
“Presenting: Cloud Strife and his Court for the suit of White,” she called out, the acoustics of the garden serving to amplify her voice. “White King, are your forces prepared for battle?”
The tall blond, in his gleaming white armor, placed his helm on his head and stabbed his scepter into the grass to his right in response. Zexion took this to be an affirmative.
“Presenting: Prince Adam and his court for the suit of Black,” Naminé proceeded, turning to face the opposing side of the board. “Black King, are your forces prepared for battle?”
The large man followed the same process as the White King, placing his black helm on his head and stabbing his scepter into the ground beside him. Zexion wondered at the significance of the scepters as he could plainly see other weapons strapped onto each of the kings, but he didn’t have much time to think on this.
Naminé stepped back to her queen, kneeling once again at her side. The young, self-styled monarch rose from her throne, sending a viciously triumphant smile at the Cat before bellowing.
“Let the game begin!”
-:- -:- -:-
Demyx was a mess. The game was going as the Queen’s chess games always did, pieces battling each other for positions as their Kings directed them at every turn. Chess games were a means of determining ranking for the Queen’s Heartless. The pawns were usually kids off the street hoping to get somewhere by proving themselves in the game, and the higher pieces were usually stronger fighters, hoping to win money, glory, and a position as one of the Queen’s favorites.
Unlike in normal chess games, when a position on the board was under dispute, the two had to do battle instead of having the offensive piece automatically capturing the opponent. The fights varied depending on how violent the combatants were, but generally speaking it didn’t take long for the chessboard to become stained in blood.
It was none of this, however, that had Demyx anxiously fiddling with his hands under the table. In fact, he was barely paying attention to the game at all. His focus was on Zexion and the frozen mask on the other man’s face. Demyx couldn’t tell what was going on in that calculating head of his, and it was driving the blonde insane!
If Zexion didn’t kill the losing king, there would be no way that Xemnas wouldn’t start figuring things out. But, from what Demyx had learned of the other man over the past several days, murder was not something that Zexion would do lightly - definitely not over something like a chess game. The only way they could get out of this was if … one of the sides forfeited…
But no one ever forfeited. It meant instant death to all the captured pieces from the forfeiting side at the hand of their King, and the remaining survivors would become the Queen’s property. Which basically meant being reduced to less that human status in the queen’s court - public humiliation, regular abuse, being turned over to some of the Queen’s less savory servants and having them do what they pleased. Such was the price of forfeit. It never happened. Even if a King were willing to sacrifice the lives of his captured players in order to save his own, he would never accept the humiliation of becoming one of the Queen’s dogs.
Forfeit was never an option.
Demyx turned his attention back to the chess-board. Most of the pawns were out of the game by now, only the strongest managing to maintain their positions on the board. He could remember, years back, watching a scrawny spiky haired kid shock everyone by surviving as a pawn, making it all the way across the board to be promoted to a second queen. That was Sora’s first step in gaining the Queen’s favor, but it didn’t look like anything like that would be happening this time. All of the pieces were scattered, and even to Demyx’s untrained eye, things didn’t look good for the White side.
Demyx shot another nervous glance at Zexion, wondering again what the other man was thinking. The sound of cheering echoed through the garden as several of the other XIII shouted drunkenly for whatever side they’d bet on and other onlookers on lower levels encouraged their favored teams as well. If the tension in The Cat’s face was any indicator, Demyx’s guess had been right. It would be the White King who fell this night.
The Black King raised an arm in preparation to issue his next order when a voice rang through the air.
“White forfeits.”
Silence fell instantly over the room. The very air seemed to freeze from the ice in the voice of the Cheshire Cat. Demyx blinked owlishly and saw that many others around the table were doing the same.
“I’m sorry, Your Excellency,” the Queen sneered gleefully, “but unless I am mistaken, you are not the White King. Only a King can forfeit his men.”
The cat rose to his feet, snarling, usual cool composure completely lost.
“He belongs to me!” he snapped. “My words are his words, and if I say White forfeits, then that is what shall be!”
“Sephiroth…” the blond king called out in warning tones.
“Silence, Cloud. You will do as I say.”
“You agree, then, to the terms of forfeit?” For all that their aliases represented, it was the Queen who looked more like a cat at that moment, and it seemed that she’d had her fill of cream, canary, and mice all in one go.
“Yes.” The word was barely intelligible through The Cat’s clenched teeth.
Demyx watched in fascinated horror as the Queen gestured, and the King rose. He sauntered over to Zexion, hand before him to request the silver weapon that the Superior stand-in had placed on the table beside him. The blonde still could not discern a whit of what the man was thinking; he was as expressionless as ever as he placed the firearm in the outstretched hand. The King smirked and walked over to Sephiroth, handing the gun over with what was now a smug grin.
The green-eyed Cat took the weapon and rose from his seat, sweeping his silver braid over his shoulder. He stepped down onto the board and walked down to Cloud who by now was pale and shaking in impotent rage. Demyx was at the right angle to read the taller man’s lips as he handed off the gun.
“Let anyone else touch you and I’ll kill you myself.”
The Cheshire Cat turned to leave the field, and, as if that act somehow broke the spell woven by the drama that had unfolded, voices rose in panic as the six captured pawns from the white side realized what was about to happen. Demyx’s heart went out to them. He remembered a time when he had been like that; captured and marked to be turned away from the Queen’s service. Usually, the losing side would keep their surviving members, while all the captured members were kept by the captor’s side to do as they will. Fortunately for him, his King had not broken the rule, though.
Kings never forfeit.
Demyx turned from the chaos that erupted on the board as the White pieces tried to escape but were stopped by the Queen’s guards. He looked instead to Zexion, noting the subtle hardening around the other man’s cobalt eyes as he watched the violence unfold.
Six shots sounded, loud and cacophonous, in the echoing expanse of the Queen’s garden.
Mirror, Mirror
Chapter 07 - In Which Six Shots are Fired, Heard by All
original author: finem
Zexion stared down at the cold steel, placed so casually before him. It was only with the highest level of self-control that he managed to keep his face from betraying the level of not-quite disgust and could-have-been horror spawned by the weapon. His gaze immediately flew to Demyx who was watching him with wide frightened eyes from across the room. One look told him that it would be in very bad form for him to respond poorly to the situation, and there really was no other way to get around it at the moment.
"Of course," Zexion said, face as impassive as ever. Inside however, his mind was buzzing. He was a scientist, damn it! He studied, he probed, he pondered and hypothesized. Nowhere on his resume was “cold-blooded murder,” and he had no intention of adding it ... but he also had no clue how he would get around this without raising suspicion. For the time being, it looked like he would be able to think while the game progressed.
The Cheshire Cat glared acid at him, while the Queen preening as she turner her attention back to the game board. During the short discussion, the remaining pieces had placed themselves in position. Zexion looked out over the field, studying them. Based on what he had learned so far about this world, he imagined nothing to exist but violence once the game began.
Sephiroth's Cloud took his place as the White King. Across the board in the corresponding black position stood a figure that Zexion did not recognize. He was tall and broad with deep-set dramatic eyes. His honey-brown hair was pulled back in a low tail. There was a certain contained savagery in his posture; something beastly that the faux Superior could not quite put his finger on. He noted with no small interest that the man’s queen was yet another Princess of Heart. Belle, the delicate beauty from the world Xaldin had been assigned to. She was completely dwarfed by the Black King, but the Queen was meant to be one of the most powerful players on the board. Looks could be deceiving. Zexion, more than anyone, knew this.
The Queen of Hearts gave a slight nod and Naminé stood before the gathered observers. She raised a small golden gong and mallet, striking once to call the attention of everyone in the area. Turing her back to the tea party, she addressed the players on the board.
“Presenting: Cloud Strife and his Court for the suit of White,” she called out, the acoustics of the garden serving to amplify her voice. “White King, are your forces prepared for battle?”
The tall blond, in his gleaming white armor, placed his helm on his head and stabbed his scepter into the grass to his right in response. Zexion took this to be an affirmative.
“Presenting: Prince Adam and his court for the suit of Black,” Naminé proceeded, turning to face the opposing side of the board. “Black King, are your forces prepared for battle?”
The large man followed the same process as the White King, placing his black helm on his head and stabbing his scepter into the ground beside him. Zexion wondered at the significance of the scepters as he could plainly see other weapons strapped onto each of the kings, but he didn’t have much time to think on this.
Naminé stepped back to her queen, kneeling once again at her side. The young, self-styled monarch rose from her throne, sending a viciously triumphant smile at the Cat before bellowing.
“Let the game begin!”
-:- -:- -:-
Demyx was a mess. The game was going as the Queen’s chess games always did, pieces battling each other for positions as their Kings directed them at every turn. Chess games were a means of determining ranking for the Queen’s Heartless. The pawns were usually kids off the street hoping to get somewhere by proving themselves in the game, and the higher pieces were usually stronger fighters, hoping to win money, glory, and a position as one of the Queen’s favorites.
Unlike in normal chess games, when a position on the board was under dispute, the two had to do battle instead of having the offensive piece automatically capturing the opponent. The fights varied depending on how violent the combatants were, but generally speaking it didn’t take long for the chessboard to become stained in blood.
It was none of this, however, that had Demyx anxiously fiddling with his hands under the table. In fact, he was barely paying attention to the game at all. His focus was on Zexion and the frozen mask on the other man’s face. Demyx couldn’t tell what was going on in that calculating head of his, and it was driving the blonde insane!
If Zexion didn’t kill the losing king, there would be no way that Xemnas wouldn’t start figuring things out. But, from what Demyx had learned of the other man over the past several days, murder was not something that Zexion would do lightly - definitely not over something like a chess game. The only way they could get out of this was if … one of the sides forfeited…
But no one ever forfeited. It meant instant death to all the captured pieces from the forfeiting side at the hand of their King, and the remaining survivors would become the Queen’s property. Which basically meant being reduced to less that human status in the queen’s court - public humiliation, regular abuse, being turned over to some of the Queen’s less savory servants and having them do what they pleased. Such was the price of forfeit. It never happened. Even if a King were willing to sacrifice the lives of his captured players in order to save his own, he would never accept the humiliation of becoming one of the Queen’s dogs.
Forfeit was never an option.
Demyx turned his attention back to the chess-board. Most of the pawns were out of the game by now, only the strongest managing to maintain their positions on the board. He could remember, years back, watching a scrawny spiky haired kid shock everyone by surviving as a pawn, making it all the way across the board to be promoted to a second queen. That was Sora’s first step in gaining the Queen’s favor, but it didn’t look like anything like that would be happening this time. All of the pieces were scattered, and even to Demyx’s untrained eye, things didn’t look good for the White side.
Demyx shot another nervous glance at Zexion, wondering again what the other man was thinking. The sound of cheering echoed through the garden as several of the other XIII shouted drunkenly for whatever side they’d bet on and other onlookers on lower levels encouraged their favored teams as well. If the tension in The Cat’s face was any indicator, Demyx’s guess had been right. It would be the White King who fell this night.
The Black King raised an arm in preparation to issue his next order when a voice rang through the air.
“White forfeits.”
Silence fell instantly over the room. The very air seemed to freeze from the ice in the voice of the Cheshire Cat. Demyx blinked owlishly and saw that many others around the table were doing the same.
“I’m sorry, Your Excellency,” the Queen sneered gleefully, “but unless I am mistaken, you are not the White King. Only a King can forfeit his men.”
The cat rose to his feet, snarling, usual cool composure completely lost.
“He belongs to me!” he snapped. “My words are his words, and if I say White forfeits, then that is what shall be!”
“Sephiroth…” the blond king called out in warning tones.
“Silence, Cloud. You will do as I say.”
“You agree, then, to the terms of forfeit?” For all that their aliases represented, it was the Queen who looked more like a cat at that moment, and it seemed that she’d had her fill of cream, canary, and mice all in one go.
“Yes.” The word was barely intelligible through The Cat’s clenched teeth.
Demyx watched in fascinated horror as the Queen gestured, and the King rose. He sauntered over to Zexion, hand before him to request the silver weapon that the Superior stand-in had placed on the table beside him. The blonde still could not discern a whit of what the man was thinking; he was as expressionless as ever as he placed the firearm in the outstretched hand. The King smirked and walked over to Sephiroth, handing the gun over with what was now a smug grin.
The green-eyed Cat took the weapon and rose from his seat, sweeping his silver braid over his shoulder. He stepped down onto the board and walked down to Cloud who by now was pale and shaking in impotent rage. Demyx was at the right angle to read the taller man’s lips as he handed off the gun.
“Let anyone else touch you and I’ll kill you myself.”
The Cheshire Cat turned to leave the field, and, as if that act somehow broke the spell woven by the drama that had unfolded, voices rose in panic as the six captured pawns from the white side realized what was about to happen. Demyx’s heart went out to them. He remembered a time when he had been like that; captured and marked to be turned away from the Queen’s service. Usually, the losing side would keep their surviving members, while all the captured members were kept by the captor’s side to do as they will. Fortunately for him, his King had not broken the rule, though.
Kings never forfeit.
Demyx turned from the chaos that erupted on the board as the White pieces tried to escape but were stopped by the Queen’s guards. He looked instead to Zexion, noting the subtle hardening around the other man’s cobalt eyes as he watched the violence unfold.
Six shots sounded, loud and cacophonous, in the echoing expanse of the Queen’s garden.