A/N

Xaldin x Belle! Whoohoo!

…as you can see I was on pure crack when I wrote this. Lol.

Warning: Crack! pairing straight ahead. Rated for the safety of your immature brains...jk.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts or Kingdom Hearts 2. I do not make any profit from this. I'm simply using them for my own sick and twisted purposes.

'thought'

flashbacks or dream sequence

Savior

By: Youkai Hime90

Belle.

She repeats her name softly like a mantra as she paces around the room, running it through her mind so she won't forget.

'No…I can't forget…I mustn't forget.'

Belle.

If she forgets who she is and where she comes from than all hope will be lost.

Time has dragged by slowly, days becoming weeks, and weeks becoming months. Maybe, even months becoming years. Belle isn't really sure anymore. Her silken brown hair is longer now, reaching the small of her back. She still keeps it in a loose ponytail with the same blue ribbon, whether it's to keep the unkempt mass out of her face or to maintain whatever's left of her dignity she isn't quite sure.

The stones beneath her feet are cold, causing the poorly clad brunette to shiver. Belle thinks it's either late fall or early winter. Either way, if she had a window, she would be delighted by the sight of newly fallen snow or dazzling leaves shimmering in broken sunlight. She would give anything to merely know the time of day.

"Please, just tell me what month it is, what season it is! I just need to know!"

Xaldin never tells her. She hasn't earned the right to learn the date or even the time he says. Not yet, at least. When Belle is good he brings her books and brushes her hair. When she struggles he restrains her. The will to fight has not left her but Belle has learned to control herself. She still has bruises on her wrists from the last time she refused him. Belle likes receiving rewards more than enduring punishment.

She no longer feels repulsed or disgusted when she thinks of herself. The battle has been lost after all; all those she loved dear and held close to her heart are dead or locked up in prisons of their own. She will never see the light of day beyond these four walls and Belle has come to accept this. He is all Belle sees (all she will ever see) and he is less cruel when she doesn't resist. Xaldin protects her, keeps her alive in a world that wishes to see her gone and broken.

He is, in complete simplicity, her savior.

Now, Belle looks forward to his visits.

There are things she has yet to learn. On those special occasions when he's feeling particularly generous he tells her its and bits of information of the outside world. Xaldin tells her of Sora's defeat and the downfall of Disney Castle.

Belle is lucky.

Xaldin always always tells her how she is fortunate to have been taken under his wing. When she is bad he curses her but the horrors she always imagines are things of bad dreams and not anything she's experienced.

But, there are also books when he visits. Xaldin reclines with a glass of wine and talks to her about the books she reads. And sometimes, he merely sits and watches her. When she has earned it she is allowed to bathe and often he allows her to sit at his feet and comb her hair. Belle likes those days best, sitting by the fire and resting at his feet, just feeling. Xaldin is surprisingly gentle, and no matter how many times she complains he says her hair is always lovely. Sometimes, Xaldin brings her ribbons and bids her to do her hair, pretty her up like his favorite pet.

Belle.

She is angered at being treated in such a way, reminiscent of a pet. But, Belle cannot displease him. Xaldin would stop visiting, stop bringing her books, stop letting her use her mind in conversations with him. She doesn't dare to think of what others might do to her, do to Sora's friend, and Beast's lo…

The fire crackles and shadows are cast upon the four wall she calls sanctuary, and the sound of a familiar deep voice chills her soul. "Belle…"

She turns to face a smiling figure in black, resting casually in his favorite recliner. Xaldin's eyes are dark and glitter in the near darkness, bottomless, engulfing her like a murky lake. Silently, with a gesture of his hand he beckons her to him and hesitantly Belle stands and approaches him, docile and obedient. His silence is thunderous and she wonders in some, small way if she has displeased him. This thought frightens her.

"Yes..?" Her voice is shaky and breathless, and she winces at the sound.

Xaldin arches a delicate eyebrow much to Belle's disgrace, before handing her a precious gift wrapped in fine paper. After opening it, careful not to rip the paper too badly, Belle lets out a gasp of delight, eyes shining with pure, unadulterated happiness. "A book!"

Xaldin is amused and watches her intently. "Yes."

Belle bows her head and murmurs a soft thank you, hugging the precious text to her chest. Patiently, unsure as to what to do next, she awaits his next instructions in silence. Belle cannot read minds and she is not sure whether he wishes for her to sit at his feet and read or sit on the bed.

"You like it."

"Yes, very much so. Thank you."

Xaldin smiles with a subtle twisting of his lips that precedes a low whisper. "You've earned a reward."

Belle feels her heart skip a beat.

"Bring me the brush."

Moments later, Xaldin pulls the bow out and watches as her brunette waves spill down her shoulders and onto her back. As Belle sits contentedly at his feet between his legs reading a passage from her newly acquired book he starts to weave it through her hair. It is already thoroughly groomed enough to brush through the top of her head to the bottom of her strands without a single tangle.

"And together, they ride off into the sunset, searching for their own happily ever after. But,…the prince and--"

The brush slips from Xaldin's fingers and clatters to the floor as he wraps his arms around her and nestles his face in her hair. Belle tenses in surprise when she feels him breathe in her scent deeply, breath hitching. This is new, something he has never done, and she finds herself curious as well as flushed. Her brown eyes are wide and stare straight ahead, watching as the dying embers go out one by one. Belle doesn't dare to move away or protest because she wishes to please him. If he is happy with her, he will stay and talk about her latest book.

She likes when he stays.

"You smell of honeysuckle...sweet yet subtle."

Belle knows she must have a curious expression on her face because he brushes his fingers through her hair and calls her a good pet as he coaxes her to her feet. She frowns at the title, as she always does, but does not speak up as she once would have done, when she first came to wake in this room. A cell, the voice in Belle's mind insists, no matter how similar it's modeled after her old one. It is hers, she argues as she looks at him, at the one who has saved her from a certain painful death.

Distantly, she knows what is to happen. It is something she expected to be taken from her, rough and cruel, when she first woke to find herself a captive of a member of the Organization. When Belle heard the news of Beast's death, she had anticipated her own surely to follow within moments. She has never thought that hours would become days would become weeks. Belle has never imagined freely giving something he'd have had to forcefully take those first weeks.

Belle looks to Xaldin for guidance, eyes large and naive like those of a rabbit, and he leads her to the lush bed in the corner, pressing a soft kiss against her pliant lips. His eyes find hers and he begins unbuttoning her nightgown, slowly and surely, never taking his burning coal eyes off hers…

Belle has no idea that at this very moment King Mickey is throwing a banquet in honor of Sora, Donald, and Goofy, for securing the fate of the worlds once again. She doesn't know that they are having a toast in honor of her, vowing to find their missing friend who they've been looking for the entire time. She doesn't know the entire Organization is wiped out and there's a sneaking suspicion going around that she's been kidnapped by escaped Xaldin, four months prior. Nor does she know that Beast has vowed not to rest until he finds her because he refuses to believe that she is dead.

No, instead she snuggles closer to the man who she believes has saved her from death, thinking about a new book in the morning. She is still sore but it doesn't seem that bad as she feels the warmth of the body beside her against her bare skin. She isn't his pet, a voice argues, but it is becoming increasingly difficult to listen when this is her life now. If she pleases him, he gives her pleasure and keeps her alive. As she drifts off to sleep, a stubborn voice that refuses to give up hope reminds her: Belle.

He is, in complete simplicity, in her mind, her savior.