Work Text:
The wind rattled, ruffled against the cape you wore. Every joint creaked with rust, each metal body part of the mockery that you were. You were not Terra. Terra had been taken from you, pulled into pieces. You were all that was left behind. Anger, rage, patience. A will. Lingering, waiting. Endlessly patient, endlessly angry. Ends of the Earth stood firmly under your hands, a menial comfort next to how long you’ve been waiting. How long you were going to wait. Years meant nothing. Time was not a comfort. In the graveyard, all you felt was the wind around you, the sand in your joints. Even memories had flown from you, with time. You only remembered three names, three faces.
Aqua, a soothing blue.
Ventus, green and bright.
Xehanort, yellow and deceitful.
It was these three that allowed you to continue as long as you had. These three that had kept your fire burning. Every time you think of their faces, it fills you with an anger that you can’t control. You were strong. You were patient. You were filled with a rage awakened by the pain that Terra had been forced to endure. Wherever Terra was, you hoped he was filled with the same rage, that it kept him going against Xehanort, who had stolen him from you.
So long as the rage that burned inside you carried on, so would you, waiting for the day that Xehanort would return, and you would finally take your revenge, take your heart and body back, become a somebody instead of a will. Would Aqua be proud of what you’ve gone through? Would Ventus still smile at you? You couldn’t remember. All you knew was anger, unending rage. Years have made you hard, made you strong. Xehanort would not stand a chance.
Someone had stepped into your graveyard. Someone familiar, but not the one you remember. Their keyblade, stolen. You lift yourself from your knees, pulling Ends of the Earth from the ground. The wind swirls around you, and you know Xehanort has played a hand here. This soul, he had soiled them. They deserved to die for their sins. You have grown rust with age, but that doesn’t impede your strength, the way you send Ends of the Earth flying into their body. Xehanort deserves to die for what he did. Anyone who was touched by him deserved the same treatment.
You were a will filled with rage. You would allow nothing to stop you, nothing to prevent you from taking hold of your destiny and carving Xehanort out. If you had to drag him with you into the deep depths of hell, then you would. You were not Terra. Aqua and Ven would not miss you.
This was not Xehanort. It was not someone he had touched. You had underestimated the power you were up against. It had not been easy for him, but he had brought you down. Sinking to your knees, you commend him. Ends of the Earth stood guard, as did you. You do not care to know the boy’s face as the wind takes you. He leaves, and you do not relax. You aren’t able to. Your mind, all you had left, did not allow you to rest, not while Xehanort still had Terra, not while he was still alive.
You do not sleep, shifting with the winds. Your time will come.