Work Text:
Naminé was used to lurking on the outskirts, on the borders between dreams and waking, fiction and memory, hovering at the edges of existence.
Roxas wouldn’t let her do that anymore.
She was silently sketching in the usual spot, the cozy little hideout of the Twilight Town gang, when he lifted the makeshift curtain and entered her world.
“C’mon, Naminé, I have something to show you,” he said, taking her by the hand and guiding her out of the darkness and into the light, just like she’d done for him so many heartbeats ago.
She was glad to be alive.
White was Naminé’s favorite color. It encapsulated all the other colors, reflected the full spectrum of light.
It promised possibilities.
Maybe that was why she liked the White Room so much. All that had happened here. All that could happen here.
On the table were paints of all different shades and tints and hues. Brushes in every size. Roxas grabbed one and she reached for another.
Together, they painted life onto the wall, coaxing colors into dazzling shapes and forms, breathing their own vibrant mural into being.
Creating on her own was joyful. Creating with her soulmate, her mirror? Sublime.
The bistro was the perfect place for an anniversary date. One year since they’d met. One year of eucatastrophe, of the most wonderful upheaval they’d ever known. Of becoming whole, alive, human.
Golden light spilled onto the street, illuminating the night. Their table graced the cobblestones. A street musician serenaded them. Together, they shared a delicious plate of spaghetti seasoned so spectacularly every bite was a delight.
When they reached the final noodle, they shared that, too, the romance of the moment sweeping them away as their lips met in a sweet kiss.
Life was unpredictable. Life was a gift.
Roxas wanted Naminé to see the worlds. They began with Twilight Town and continued to the world that never truly was. His hallowed, haunted home for so long, a place that lingered in her memories now, too. White. Silent. Empty.
The Dusks found them there. They called Roxas “my liege,” and after slinking around the two of them, they called Naminé “my lady.”
Well, in this castle, they could be. They could be lord and lady that never were of this world that never was.
They played their parts until the act ceased to be, until the illusion became reality.
The next world was that of their Others. A land of bright sun, lush land, and sparkling sea, of the sound of waves Naminé was named for, the ocean rocks Roxas’s name resembled.
It was good to be outdoors instead of locked in a cage.
They sat on the paopu tree and shared its salty-sweet fruit at sunset. Not as Sora and Kairi, not even as Nobodies lurking inside of Sora and Kairi, but as Roxas and Naminé, fully themselves, fully realized, fully free. Free to be together. Free to choose each other.
And so they did, for eternity.
Naminé’s dream was to see the lights, the lantern festival the Kingdom of Corona was renowned for. Roxas likewise wanted to experience it through his own eyes instead of Sora’s.
During the day, they joined the kingdom’s festivities—devoured delicious finger food, decorated the streets with colorful chalk, learned to dance, met Rapunzel and Eugene. Then the moon rose, reigning in the night sky like a resplendent queen, and the stars came out to sing.
It was time. Roxas and Naminé watched the floating lights on a boat that gently rocked them like a lullaby.
Dreams were meant to be shared.
Naminé no longer lurked on outskirts or borders, nor did she hover at the edges of existence. She was the star of her own life and the supporting cast in so many others.
Today she walked with her husband by her side, down an aisle surrounded by friends.
His face was older, wiser, kinder, but still the face of her Roxas. Her mind flitted to the first time they’d met on the usual street. They shared so many memories together that some had become worn and frayed around the edges, but not this one.
She was glad to be alive.