Love You, I Do [Kingdom Hearts, Marluxia/Riku, PG-13]

[de-yaten.livejournal.com]

Title: Love You, I Do
Author/Artist: de_yaten
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Marluxia/Riku implied. Flower-y language. AU take on CoM, I guess.
Summary: All it takes is a scribble on the witch's magic notebook - and Riku is his.
Prompt: "Marluxia/Riku: possession - 'Roses have thorns, but don't forget they have petals too.'"
A/N: Mmmm, flowers. I apologize for the purple prose... hopefully it isn't too much! The quotes at the beginning and end are translated and modified from a random German poem from an old class assignment.



You will be
mine,
mine,
mine, silver prince,
says the Earth, watching and waiting from behind a veil of green leaves.
The Moon and sky no longer have want or need of you, and you will be
mine,
mine,
mine alone.

All it takes a simple scritch-scratch on the witch's pages, swirls of silver and green chained by vines that can bend and bind; bend around his Heart and bind it in false memories of candy-rose hair and a white smile that hides the deep black-tooth poison. The witch cries as she does it, as she bends and breaks him so completely - she cries even after, wants to rip her magic notebook to shreds and burn the ripples of what's left - but she is locked far away in white tower that no prince will come galloping towards.

He's a shell of a prince, now; a shell of a Somebody that used to sell seashells by a lonely seashore, on an island he made burst into Darkness once upon a time, but not so long ago.

He knows (he thinks he knows) and remembers (thinks he remembers) only this life, only this role, only Him. Him with a capital H and pink hair that puts the innocent blush to shame, though there is nothing innocent about Him or them or any of this at all. Riku only remembers how he has always loved Him, because he's always been here, with Him. With them; they of the midnight black coats that tell him stories of Worlds he shall soon see, teach him to fight harder, stronger, faster - they that lay the paste of lie upon lie on his skin until the truth can only slide off like a stubborn oil, leaving a sticky-papered deceit behind.

Oil drips from his arms with each untruth;

Drip; do you remember years ago, when you lived in that big ol' castle in the city with us?

Drip; we used to stay up real-l-l-l late to play board games and talk and talk; remember when you won at Monopoly and I told you all about my tattoos?

Drip; you're the one-true-only-always Keyblade Master, meant to release the Hearts for us, to help us regain our own (it's a half-drip, but he does not recognize it)

Riku loves (he thinks he loves) and cherishes (thinks he cherishes) the way he is loved, is cherished, is held in His vines so close and tight that tears and love-blood drip down, down, down onto the white marble floor ingrained like persistant crumbs in his memory. He is not always tight, not always scratching for blood and bruises and wet moondrops down the boy's starlight cheek.

Sometimes He is a faint rose-petal caress down the head, shoulders, knees and toes; He is maple-sweet words whispered against Riku's thigh, tongue wagging promises of a life together (forever, as they always had been) and a grand castle in a city Riku's Never Heard Of that they were supposed to live in.

Sap drips from His lips with each lie;

Drip; we'll re-take over the castle, because I am the rightful king (grey-haired usurpers and scar-faced traitors be damned to hell and darkness)

Drip; and you'll be a fine prince there, with hand-fashioned cloaks and a wire-thorn crown (don't you remember your old room there, silver darling?)

Drip; you've always been mine, mine alone, mine in bed and heart and mind: my forever-and-always-never-leave-me sweetie

It's the sticky-sweet sap of lies that keeps him there, the poison spit that numbs his heart to the black-bruising chains that wrap 'round-and-'round until it is almost too constricted to beat. His touch is the barely-there touch that promises Riku everything he has ever (he thinks he has ever) wanted: a castle, a throne, a lover -- and nothing he (he doesn't know he) really needed: Sora, Kairi, the King, the islands, Sora Sora Sora.

His innocence has been all but peeled away when they storm the storming World That Never Was, chakrams and lightning shakin' and bakin' with thorn-biting vines that tear the usurper (the king) away from the throne and into a Darkness that Riku slices into Nothingness. (Riku does not know why the not-king's golden eyes make him cringe, except maybe-he-guesses, he feels a natural hatred for the one who took His throne away.)

There are more midnight-coats (Riku does not count the number) that come, some that join, others that either leave in a gun-powder flash or are disposed of for not wanting to serve the proper king with his thorny crown.

The night they return, Riku stands outside in the rain (he falsely remembers it fondly) and watches Him through a glass door.

The thoughts, so very wrong and ever-false they are, come to him with each rain-drop splattering on the cement.

Drip; I am proud to serve under Him, as I always have and always will.

Drip; I am glad we are back home where we belong, because I haven't seen my room in such a long time and missed it something terrible

Drip; I love him, and once I've completed my mission, he will love me too.

You are
mine,
mine,
mine silver prince,
says the Earth, wrapping poison-ivy vines 'round and 'round.
The Moon and sky no longer have want or need of you, and you are
mine,
mine,
mine alone.