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Chapter Text

Phoenix had nowhere to run now.

He really should have watched where he was going, then maybe he wouldn't have ended up in a dead end.

He was crying even before the first kid saw him and warned the others, his heart pounding hard on his chest out of effort and fear.

"There's the thief!" , he said, and the boy cowered on the ground.

He was no thief. He didn't do anything, he didn't do it…

More tears rolled down, and he could barely see the group approaching, his vision blurred by them.

I didn't do it... I didn't…

But no words came out.

They wouldn't believe him. They didn't believe the first time, nor the second, nor the fifth.

Maybe it'll be over soon, he thought. He just had to endure it until they felt like he had his justice.

After all, a boy like him could only be that.

A thief.

A loud voice interrupted the group of children, a strict, stern "stop!" resonating through the alley. Standing behind them was a pale young boy, the same age as the accused, streaks of his starlight hair glued to his forehead due to his sweat. He held in his right hand a long, yet seemingly purposely blunt halberd — maybe too long of a halberd, seeing as he struggled to balance it in place. He panted slightly, clearly having run after them. 

“Get away from him! You can't just accuse people of theft like it's nothing!”

That got the boys' attention. There were three of them, not much older than both Miles and the other with his back pressed against the wall.

One of them, the one who seemed to be the leader, then spoke up.

“Eh? You're pointing that at us?! ”

He turned around completely to face him, angered.

“It was your money he stole! You know it could only have been him!”

“And how do you intend to prove it?”

He slogged the weapon, which looked almost comical given how big it was when compared to its holder.

He walked towards the little boy, glaring coldly at the bullies before lending him a hand to help him get up.

Despite the other kid clearly meaning to help, Phoenix still hesitated, flinching before he looked him in the eyes and accepted his hand, trying to swallow his tears.

The other boy continued, still not convinced.

“What makes you think he didn't do it? No one else was there!”

He turned his head to face him, yelling back. 

“If no one else was there, how did you see it? Clearly, there were more people there. And just because he could've done it, it doesn't mean he would've done it. It could have happened before that, too! You have no solid evidence it was him!”

He placed the halberd between the other kids and himself, standing in front of the little sniffling boy as a way to defend him.

The group didn't seem convinced, and their anger was now on him too. One seemed ready to fight, but the "leader" grunted and turned to leave, spitting on the ground.

“Whatever. You can act tough all you want, you're never gonna be like Sir Edgesword. Have fun hanging out with people like him. ”

He walked away, the other two following him like henchmen.

The boy squinted at the group, watching closely as they dispersed and standing like that for a few more seconds than needed, his other hand still holding the other boy's.

When he felt they were safe, he lowered the weapon, looking back at the kid behind him.

“...What's your name?”

Phoenix was trying to discreetly wipe his tears away, but they kept coming, and he sniffled quietly, even though he wasn't in danger anymore.

When spoken to, he tried to put on a brave face, but  his lip quivered, and the effort to keep the tears from coming out made him do a funny face.

“...Phoenix…”

He replied after a moment, unable to keep it up.

“I'm Miles. Miles Edgesword. Pleasure to meet you.

He smiled gently at him, speaking although clearly not used to starting conversations.

“Were you hurt?”

He shook his head no, taking some time to steady himself before speaking properly, as well as recovering his breath.

He let the air out in a long sigh, then opened his eyes again to look at Miles.

“Just scraped my knee…”

He said, raising the leg he ended up hurting on the way there, but it was hard to see with the fur.

“Ah... There should be something at home to patch you up.”

He squinted, trying to see the injury. 

“Do you have... Somewhere to go after this?”

Phoenix looked away, putting his foot down, hesitant to answer it, but nodded again.

“I live in the Elmshade orphanage.’

The gray haired boy hummed pensively.

“Oh… I see. Then, is it okay for you to come with me? Do you have a certain time you need to be there at?”

“W-with you?” He stuttered, voice still a little shaky from having cried, but he was starting to calm down now.

“Yes...?” Miles tilted his head, not understanding the hesitation. “I promise I mean no harm. I'm just trying to help you. That's what a knight would do.”

“N-no, it's not that, it's just…” He trailed off, not knowing exactly what to say. His cheeks flushed, both from embarrassment because of that and because he realized he hadn't thanked him yet for what he just did.

“Thank you…”

“You don't need to thank me, I'm just glad you're okay.”

Miles smiled at him again, a bit shyly. His cheeks tinted slightly at the thanking, and he stepped forward, leading the boy out of the alley.

“I live around here, it won't be long before we get to my home and we can clean you up. Have you eaten anything?”

“I ate an apple before leaving…” He answered sheepishly. He was a little hungry, yes, but already abashed enough that he was just defended and being offered to take care of his very minor injury. He didn't mind the company, though. 

That boy... He had seen him before, he knew he had good grades, and was decently well-off, exactly why they never talked before. He would never guess someone like him would jump to his aid like that.

His gaze fell to the weapon Miles carried.

“Do you really know how to use that?”

The blush on the pale boy's face was now very noticeable, and he struggled to hold up the weapon.

“O-Of course I do! Just... Not this one. I have a smaller one, and the cutting parts are more blunt, too.”

He mumbled, dropping the brave facade. 

“But I can use it perfectly!”

He added, puffing his chest proudly.

The other boy didn't seem to doubt it, he just looked impressed, and for the first time since the start of that situation, his lips curled up in a smile.

“You said your name is Edgesword, right? And they mentioned Sir Edgesword too... You're related then?”

Miles beamed, smiling brightly.

“He's my father! And I'm going to be a knight, just like him! I'm going to defend the people, just like I did with you!”

Phoenix's smile grew wider, and soon his energy was matching the other kid's.

“That's so cool!”

“Isn't it?! He's been teaching me how to use a halberd, but this one isn't mine, it's his old one. He wanted to let go of it, since the metal has grown a bit rusty and the tips have gone blunt. But I wanted to keep it, so he filed the cutting parts some more!” He chuckled, excitedly looking up at it. 

The last name "Edgesword'' was one anyone would recognize in the kingdom, but not due to the weight it carried, or the terror it struck - No, unlike most knights, Gregory's most well known characteristic and legacy was his kindness and will to help the people. Although yes, he was an esteemed knight, the tales that followed his name were not of heroic doings in war, nor of his expertise with a weapon. 

The tales that roamed about his name were of empathy, helpfulness and rightfulness, which was why most of the common folk were so fond of him. 

Though he once had a wife, she died in labor, making him the single father of the little boy, which meant the world to him. 

Miles tugged at his newfound friend's hand, walking out of the dead end street with him as they talked.

After he stopped crying completely, Phoenix proved to be a rather cheerful and talkative kid, asking lots of questions, that went from Edgesword's knight training to his favorite color and favorite food, then back to weapons and what was his dad like.

Overall, he didn't seem so frail or shy anymore.

As they arrived at Miles' place, he gave the boy a wide grin and knocked on his door, a tall man opening it up and receiving his son by ruffling his hair, which made him blush and groom it back in place.

“Dad!”

Gregory chuckled, opening the door to both children and letting them inside. 

"So, what's the name of your new friend, Miles?"

He asked nonchalantly, and that made the boy blush even more. He looked away, mumbling something and placing the weapon on its designated space in the living room, then answered and turned to talk to the other kid.

“His name is Phoenix... He hurt his knee, so I thought maybe we could help…”

The knight smiled at the boy, extending a hand to him.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir Phoenix. I'm Gregory Edgesword."

The moment he was addressed, Phoenix's cheeks got slightly red again. He saluted, standing straight with his chest puffed out.

“A-a pleasure to meet you too, sir!”

The man chuckled, retrieving the hand to himself and kneeling to get on the boy's eye level. 

"So, how bad is it? The injury, that is."

The gray haired boy's voice echoed from down the corridor, and he reappeared to view with bandages and a few flasks within his arms.

“It's only a scratch, but it's best to tend to it and prevent an infection. Here.”

He handed the things he gathered to his father, who thanked him as Miles pulled a chair for Phoenix to sit on.

Phoenix was still embarrassed to have accepted to be taken all the way there to take care of something so small, but he walked over to the chair and sat down, brushing the fur to the side to show the scratch, which he himself had not checked before. It wasn't too serious, but the injury had some small specks of dried blood in it, that stained his blue fur.

“I fell…”

Gregory first cleaned the injury with water, then fetched a cotton fabric and some medicine to disinfect the bruise with, gently damping it and patting the scratch, avoiding brushing it so as to not hurt Phoenix. 

Miles offered to hold his hand, seemingly used to this procedure.

“You can hold my hand if you want to. It might sting a bit.”

The knight chuckled fondly, trying his best to be gentle with his aid.

"So, how did the two of you meet?"

He looked up briefly to the colorful eyed boy, smiling as he continued and fetched a different bottle.

“Uhmmm…”

The little boy looked hesitant for a moment and looked for Miles' approval first, wondering if he should mention the suspicions of thievery, but if he believed him, he figured it was okay to tell the whole story.

“I was playing in the street after class with some other kids, then they left to do something and when they came back they started accusing me of stealing money…”

He paused, thinking it was probably best not to tell that the money was Miles', in case he could get in trouble for losing it.

“...Then these boys started chasing me, then I fell, then I got up and ran more. I ended up on an alley and they cornered me and were gonna hit me…”

He looked at the other boy, still holding his hand, and his smile came back.

“And and then Miles protected me and scared them away, and then they ran!”

His friend looked away, though he listened intently to all of the story, a shy smile on his blushing face as he finished it with that last sentence. Gregory looked at his son, a proud parent's smile on his face.

"Is that so?"

“Y-yes... I saw them chasing him, and it felt wrong to just watch it, so I did what a good knight would do, and I fended him off against those bullies.”

He looked back at his father, smiling brightly.

“Oh, and I used your old halberd! It's a little big for me, but it did an amazing job at keeping those kids from him!”

His father turned ghostly pale for a second, stopping everything to take a look at the weapon and immediately calming down again upon seeing no blood on the metal.

"Oh, thank Goddess... I thought you had used it on them, for a second."

“What?! Of course not! That's not what a chivalrous noble knight would do! I just used it to separate us from them!”

Gregory sighed, relieved, and patted the scratch with another type of medicine, which stinged slightly more than the last.

"Good, good. You did great, Miles."

He finished up with the medicine, putting down the bottles and placing a hand on the younger Edgesword's shoulder, proudly smiling at his son.

"You'll be a great knight when the time comes for you, son."

The little boy gasped, beaming with joy as he smiled euphorically, his tail wagging frantically behind him.

“You really think so!?”

"Yes. I just know it. You have what it takes to be a knight."

He poked the kid's chest, right on top of where his heart was.

"...And that's a noble heart and the determination to help others. You'll be an incredible knight. The best there'll ever be."

He squeezed Phoenix's hand slightly, holding back some tears.

“Thank you so much!”

He practically jumped at his father, hugging him tight. He reciprocated the gesture, laughing and cutting it with a kiss to the boy's forehead, which he covered and complained about, completely red from this happening in front of Phoenix.

“Dad...!”

He simply chortled, finishing up the procedure by placing a small cotton patch on top of the scratch, securing it in place with a bit of a sticky substance that resembled honey, but darker.

"How is it?"

Phoenix simply watched as they talked, swinging his legs as he smiled up at the Edgeswords, not bothered one bit by the display of affection. If anything, he just wished he had a dad, especially one as cool as Miles'. Then maybe he'd be cool like him too.

He got distracted thinking about it, almost forgetting to answer the question.

“Ah!” He swung his leg again, as if testing it. “All good!”

Gregory smiled, then got up, stretching his back as he did.

"Are any of you hungry, by any chance?"

Miles looked at Phoenix, then at his father, cheeks much less flushed than before.

“Well... I am, a little. What about you?”

Phoenix immediately denied, shaking his head.

“Ah, no, thank you! I had breakfast before school, and I'll have lunch later.”

He explained, a little nervous. He had been taught not to take advantage of people's good intentions, so while he was in fact hungry, he could wait until the afternoon, and hope that the food was something he liked.

“Are you sure? I mean, you told me you've only had an apple today. That's hardly enough to call a meal.”

His father kneeled to gather the medicine and patches he used, looking at the dark haired boy.

"Don't worry, this won't bother us in the least. If anything, it'll be good to have you with us."

“Hmmm…” Phoenix shifted uncomfortably on the chair, unsure if he should accept it. His recently treated leg bounced anxiously. “Really?...”

The man chuckled, and Miles rubbed his thumb on his hand, trying to ease his friend into the idea.

"Yes, of course. We don't usually have any visitors here, so whenever Miles here brings any friends over, it's always a great change of pace."

“It's okay, really. It probably won't take long either, since dad brought us some pork meat last night.”

Phoenix blushed a little again as he looked up at Miles, but smiled.

They had food back at the orphanage, of course, but it wasn't always so good, so he'd settle for the fruits intended for dessert, like he did in the morning, as he didn't like the porridge they served.

Though he didn't want to bother his new friend and his father, he could really use some meat instead of guessing what was for lunch and maybe having to eat only apples again.

And, well, it wasn't like he was in a hurry to go back just yet.

“O-okay, then! If it's not a problem…”

Both Edgeswords smiled, the tip of Miles' tail moving slightly with how happy he felt.

"Of course not. Make yourself at home, you're more than welcome here."

Gregory went to the kitchen, starting to prepare their meal and leaving both boys alone to talk.

“I, uhm... We're not used to having people here. I... Don't really have a lot of friends.”

The thunderstorm eyed boy looked away, quite clearly embarrassed, as if the redness in his cheeks wouldn't be enough to give that away.

Phoenix gasped, as if not only surprised but offended on the other boy's behalf.

“How is that possible?!”

He seemed confused at Phoenix's reaction, as if it was obvious that he didn't have that many friends.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“You're so cool!” He said simply, still appalled. “And you're nice and brave and know how to use those big weapons! That doesn't make sense!”

Miles blushed profusely, definitely not prepared to have heard that.

“Uhm-! T-thanks... You're cool, too. A-And... I really liked talking to you.”

He smiled shyly, looking away.

“D-Do you, uhm... Do you want to be friends? ”

Phoenix smiled, his cheeks also flushing when he's complimented back.

“Are we not?”

The other boy chuckled, his meek smile turning into an excited one when his friend said that. He moved his ears and antennae, perking them up in a happy realization.

“Ah!”

He puffed his chest, then dove into a hug.

Phoenix out a little surprised squeak, but quickly recomposed and hugged the other boy back, happy to have made a friend, and that he was happy about it too. 

They might've just met, but Phoenix decided just as he saw Miles standing in front of him like that, that this was what he wanted to be. Like Miles.

And especially, that he wanted them to be friends forever, so they could play and train together, and one day he would be as brave as him and make him proud.

But their promises were that: promises. Things that were once said, but forgotten, lingering in the past and not ever coming to fruition. 

That same year, Miles' world fell apart.

The death of his father.

An earthquake.

The death of his innocence.

A once colorful world turned black and white, like the ashes from their fireplace on that fateful day.

It's interesting to think that all it takes is a will and a means to separate one's life from their body.

And unfortunately, that day, a means to met a why.

It was late evening when Miles returned home, and he would never have guessed the scenes that were about to unfold in front of his very eyes. 

It was winter, snow piling outside as Gregory lit the fireplace and welcomed his son home with a warm hug. He kissed his forehead.

"Hey, dad...?"

"Hm?"

"...Do you really think I'll be a good knight...?"

"Why the question, son?"

"... Well, I've been thinking, and..."

But he couldn't continue. Gregory's eyes darted to the pot in the fireplace, noticing the movement of the water inside it. Miles didn't understand what, but something was wrong.

His father looked up at the ceiling, then outside, visibly panicked as he ordered Miles to go to his room. The boy confusedly obliged, each step he took noticing more objects being affected by the tremor. The knight yelled at him to close his door, and so he did, when he heard a louder sound coming from their front door - wood breaking, an announcement and metal clanking against the wooden floors.

"Gregory Edgesword."

"Manfred Don Karma."

Miles opened the door slightly, just enough to peek through the breach. From where he was, he could only see his father's legs next to a few guards and an unknown man's, which he assumed was Manfred. A knight stepped forward, and he heard the sound of a scroll being unfolded.

"You've been accused of treason against our nation. Have you any defense?"

"...Hmph. I wouldn't have expected any less from you, Don."

There was no response from the other man. 

The little boy felt his stomach dropping. He wanted to scream. He tried to move, to get the halberd in his room and come to his defense, but the noises from the tremor turned louder, and the earthquake turned more and more violent, the objects starting to fall around him, his own weapon nearly hitting him as it fell, his room feeling more and more cramped as he heard the voices in the living room, screams from neighbors, snow sliding from the roofs outside, glass breaking, the flames roaring in the fireplace, his own crying and sobbing feeling both loud and mute as he was rendered unable to distinguish whispers from howling of agony, laughter from bawling, joy from panic, if he was the one crying or if it was the whole world ringing loudly around him. And amidst the frenzy, his heart beating painfully fast against his chest, the screams around him somehow turning into a deafening silence as he watched his world being torn apart.

Blood.

Blood and a loud thud as Gregory hit the floor. 

And then, there was finally silence.

In the tremor, a log from the fireplace hit the floor. The once warm home turned into an ocean of flames, memories burning down along with promises of the past.

Next thing he knew, Miles was walking to an orphanage. He didn't stay there more than a day. 

He wanted to be what his father told him.

A great knight.

The best there ever was.

Better than Gregory Edgesword himself.

Chapter Text

. . .


“Have you gotten any descriptions yet?”

Miles walked to the table in the knight's quarters, where two of his colleagues were lounging.

"Yes, sir! The suspect has last been seen at the downtown fair, near the central church. He has, uh... Black hair, I think?"

“That's... Not very specific, Gumshoo.”

"Uhh... I think he was dressing weird, and his clothes were blue. Or green."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That's even less specific. Francis?”

The man seemed unbothered, drinking from a beer mug and looking away.

"A fast little pest, that fool was. He could jump and run with ease, as if defying gravity itself."

“Might you speak in adjectives?”

The smaller man looked flustered, mumbling away as he felt his face blushing slightly.

"I couldn't get a proper look at that foolish fool."

“...Perfect. Just perfect. I suppose I'll have to go on a blind hunt.”

"Well, not that blind! We'll be right behind you, sir!"

“...That implies I'll have to go on a blind hunt and guide the two of you through it.’

"Don't be such an insolent fool, Miles. Going on a chase by yourself will only serve to tire you out. You need more men to be on the lookout, or else you risk being outran by this fool of a bandit."

The knight sighed. He did have a point.

“...Fine. In that case, gather your things. We must see ourselves out as soon as possible.”

"Yes, sir!"

"Sure."

Gumshoo saluted him, and Francis put down his mug. The three men fetched their weapons, put on their armor and set themselves on the trail of the thief, each on their designated horse.

At first, everything seemed rather calm out in the streets. At least in the sense of there having no signs of thievery.

Kids played outside, screaming and laughing as children do, merchants loudly announced their products, and drunkards told jokes to their equally inebriated friends in nearby taverns.

Aside from that, even when a fight seemed to be starting in one of those establishments, the presence of the armored man appeared to be enough to deescalate the situation, at least temporarily.

They walked for a good while, but there was no thief in sight, or clues that could lead to one.

The tallest armored figure sighed, losing hopes of finding the criminal they were to catch.

" Aurgh , it's no use. We can't find him at all, pal!"

"Don't lose hope just yet." Francis objected, squinting at the distance. "We cannot return empty-handed. We ought to find some sort of clue."

Miles halted, stopping his horse before the other two did the same.

“Well, I can't say I'm surprised. If I were a thief, I too would be hiding if I saw three armored men most clearly following my trail. And though horses are great for mobility, they certainly aren't what I'd call discreet. ”

"What do you suggest we do, then?"

Don got off his horse with some difficulty, followed by Richard, who got down fairly easily.

“Easy. We disguise ourselves.”

"Genius move, sir!"

"And where exactly are we supposed to leave our armor?"

“ We don't. ”

"Well, isn't that counterintuitive. What kind of a fool do you take that thief for?! Anyone could spot us from miles away if we wear this amidst the crowd!"

“Not if there are more people in armor.”

Francis fell silent, simply confused.

"...What."

“We don't need to dispose of our armor if we make the thief think we're simply guards.”

The knights turned to look at the fair. There actually were a few guards mixed in with the people, mostly standing in front of establishments. 

“There.”

Miles pointed to a blacksmith's shop's entrance. There were no guards there, as well as only one in front of the bar across it.

“The two of you stay in front of that forge. I'll stay in front of the tavern.”

The men nodded, obligingly taking their places. Now, the only thing left was to wait.

And wait they did. For quite some time.

It was pretty early when they left to search the streets, now the sun had already gone high up in the sky, showing that it was just after noon.

While Edgesword did see the owner of the tavern throwing someone out for being rude to a server, there seemed to not be any more issues aside from typical customer service drama.

Though patience was one of the most vital virtues a knight could have, at this point, even Miles was getting desperate. It had been over two hours under the sun with heavy armor, and it felt like a furnace inside it. He finally left his post when a client started complaining to him about the staff that he wasn't even a part of.

“Are you sure this is the correct place, Gumshoo? I agree with Francis that we shall not leave with nothing to offer, but this is simply idiotic. We've been here for what felt like hours covering for three flimsy guards that didn't even show up for their jobs, and for what?! Nothing?! There has got to be a misunderstanding.”

The heavy armored knight fetched the paper from which he gathered the tell on the burglar, lifting his visor to look at it properly, but instead, he gasped, ending up noticing some movement ahead and pointing at it.

"Sir, there! I think I saw something weird!"

But as soon as the leader looked up to see what was it that caught the other knight's attention, a way more obvious sign came as if on cue, in the form of sound. More specifically, a voice, coming from farther down the street, loud enough to be heard by most of the people there.

"Stop thief!" , a female voice screamed, turning heads and making some people scramble and run inside houses and establishments instead of doing as asked.

And, in the middle of the commotion, he could see a blur of blue fleeing the scene rapidly, while some of the guards left their posts to try and pass through the commoners to follow the figure.

The sound immediately sprung the trio into action, Gumshoo lowering his visor and the blacksmith near the forge complaining about the loss of his "guards" and trying to argue with Francis, only to be flipped off and pushed aside by him.

Miles ran in front of the other knights, spotting the lady and asking for directions.

“To where did he lead to, miss?”

The woman was still standing in the same place as she watched the guards finally break away from the crowd, anxious.

"T-there!" she pointed to the direction they were running towards, where the thief could be seen in the distance, his silhouette already fairly small.

"He stole my purse!"

The armored men looked at each other, nodding and running in that direction, Edgesword leading the bunch. 

"I suppose you weren't as misinformed as we thought you to be” Francis admitted.

"See? I told you, pal! You can count on me to get info on our targets!"

“Less talking, more running. If the two of you continue this bantering, you'll lose track of him.”

The leading knight placed his hands on the hilt of his sword, unsheathing it as they approached the burglar.

The thief ran cutting his way through the confused people in the streets with ease, jumping obstacles and knocking over fruit carts to slow down the armored men on his trail.

One knight was successfully knocked down as he failed to avoid a bunch of rolling apples, and the other simply gave up, struggling to catch his breath as he leaned against a wall.

As for the guards, they had already been left behind at that point.

The one knight left fetched one of the flying apples and tossed it back, hitting the plunderer on the head and picking up some speed by cutting whatever kept him apart from his target, jumping on tables and pushing people aside.

“You can't keep running forever, surrender while you can!”

Edgesword's successful throw seemed to not only surprise the fugitive, but also disoriented him. He let out an "ouch" and rubbed his head, whipping it around instinctively to see who was this stubborn guard still running after him, only to stumble and end up rolling towards a wall.

Miles snickered, sprinting even faster as to catch up with the criminal and arrest him. He panted and sweat bullets inside his armor, but all the effort made its worth as he managed to corner the burglar, forcefully pinning him against a wall with one hand and threatening him with his sword using the other.

But in the fraction of a second, all his hostility and resolution dissolved as his stormy eyes met a colorful pair he knew all too well.

“...Wha... What…?”

The ferocity in his voice died out, replaced instead by a meek shadow of empathy lurking over confusion. It sounded like an inner whisper more than a question, and judging by his expression behind his visor, that it was.

On the other side, Phoenix groaned as the air was pried from his lungs when his back hit the wall, slightly lightheaded from the fall and already seeing his life flashing before his eyes as he prepared to either come up with an excuse or a way out.

His line of thinking was cut, however, when he noticed the guard's hesitation, becoming confused himself.

That is, until he really stopped to take a good look at his face, and then he understood.

He hadn't seen that face in years, and yet he was able to recognize it, grown up and partially hidden behind an armor.

He knew those eyes, he knew that one strand of starlight hair peeking from inside the helmet.

For a moment, it seemed like time itself stopped, and his heartbeat along with it.

He opened his mouth, but his voice faltered, needing more than one try for something to come out.

“Miles?...”

There was no answer. And when he did come up with one, Francis and Gumshoo had caught up with them, distracting him from the target and giving Phoenix an opportunity to escape.

And he sure as hell took that opportunity.

Though still perplexed, the thief forced himself to focus on fleeing instead of trying to process the situation.

He quickly escaped the knight's grip to jump up a pile of crates and kick them down so he couldn't be followed so easily, then disappeared from sight, not looking back.

The escapade was followed by curses coming from the knights, Don's yelling being loud enough that Phoenix could still hear him as he ran away. Slowly but surely, their figures drifted away as the burglar made his way through the rooftops.

. . .

Just as promises can be broken, dreams can also be shattered.

A child dreams big. They can dream of being famous, of having great talent, of being a hero and saving everyone they love.

But once you grow up, you realize your chances are slim. In fact, they're close to none, if you're not born wealthy. 

You're already awfully lucky if you get enough to buy yourself a house without being basically enslaved. 

And then, if you aren't, you can only dream.

Dream of having a place to yourself, maybe a wife and kids, or just of having food at your table every day.

You accept that dreams cannot be big, and you're never really going to accomplish much. 

At least not by following the rules. 

That's what the actual big ones do. They don't follow rules. They make them. And then bend them a little, so they can stay on top.

But if they can do so, why do the small have to stay on path?

Maybe some rules are just made to be broken. Like expensive pottery in a rich man's house, or, well, promises.

And that's how Phoenix chose to live.

Because when just working isn't enough, sometimes you have to borrow some stuff, little things no one would notice were ever gone. That's how it started.

Quick and unnoticed, always trying not to be seen. 

But once you've blown your cover, why not have a little fun?

Maybe that's how the little can be big.

Phoenix didn't stop until he was sure he left the trio behind, and only then he abruptly sat down on a roof to catch his breath and let his legs rest, heart racing both from the effort and the sudden reencounter.

Granted, it made sense that Edgesword would become a knight. Still, he hadn't thought about him in quite some time, though it'd come up every once in a while, and the questions of where he could be or what he was doing.

Or if he thought of him too.

Well, now it was answered, but Phoenix would rather not know for the rest of his life.

Out of all the people that he met in his lifetime, he was probably the one he didn't want to meet in these conditions. Not when he swore, as a child, that he'd be just like him one day.

But then again, both also swore to be best friends forever. And that clearly didn't happen.

He ran a hand through his forehead, wiping away the sweat.

Why him? Why now ?

He pinched himself, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming. It hurt. 

Yup, not a dream.

With a long, heavy sigh, he lied down on his back, processing everything as the scene replayed in his mind, along with flashes of memories from more than a decade ago.

Time seemed to go by fast, and when Phoenix opened his eyes, he realized the sun was farther from the spot it was before than he expected. Putting his thoughts aside, he peered down at the edge of the roof, and upon seeing no one there, he hopped down, landing with not more than a soft thud.

Once walking for a while amidst the crowd, he began recognizing the streets, and soon found the path he was used to make at this point.

As he arrived, a black haired girl immediately turned around to face him, despite the lack of noise from his part. He wondered if he was careless due to not being fully there, or if she just happened to check at that exact moment.

"Oh, thank goodness!" she exclaimed, sounding both relieved and angry. "I thought you dropped dead or something!"

Phoenix chuckled softly, but it wasn't very genuine.

He patted himself down, as if checking something.

“As far as I know, I'm very much alive.”

The girl, Maya, rested her hands on her hips, her cheeks puffing.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting? You said it was gonna be quick!"

He scratched the back of his neck, realizing he probably fell asleep after the chase.

“Well, I say a lot of things…”

She sighed.

"At least you're still in one piece" she said, and soon her demeanor changed, as well as the direction of her gaze, which fell to one of the pouches on his belt, the one he had been fiddling with. "Did you get something?"

He rolled his eyes, opening to pull out the folded fabric purse he had stashed there on his way back.

“Here, there's a few gold coins, but not much. You?”

Her shoulders dropped in defeat.

"Didn't get lucky either, one guy didn't like the reading and snatched his money back. It's enough to be good for this week at least, I think."

“If you don't devour it all in one sitting” he teased. She responded with a slap on his wrist. “Ow!”

"Keep it up and I'll eat your part too. Now get inside! I'm starving, I'll go to the bakery and you watch the tent" she said pushing him towards the entrance on the side of the abandoned building the tent was built in front of.

“Okay, okay! I can walk by myself!” He protested.

Maya mocked him back, then turned around to leave, but not before glancing back at Phoenix, as if analyzing him.

"You look like you've seen a ghost. I want to know what made you take so long."

He paused, turning serious all of a sudden. He didn't try to explain, or even nod. 

The medium didn't push it. She simply walked away, leaving the thief alone with his thoughts once more.

. . .


"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT, MILES EDGESWORD!?"

Francis yelled at him, slamming the table in an outrage.

"Talk about it! That was like, not like you at all, sir!"

Gumshoo added, simply confused. But Miles didn't answer. His gaze fell far away from them, as if staring off into the distance, and though he could hear them loudly confronting him, it sounded more like nonsensical gibberish. 

It was well into the night inside the knight's quarters, no other sound echoing through the room but their argument. But it didn't feel like an argument with him. Francis Don Karma yelled his lungs out, Richard Gumshoo waved his arms like a lunatic, and yet, Miles didn't even so much as outline an expression. His face was blank, completely emotionless as he got off the table leaving his comrades behind and passed through the hallway door. 

"Have you heard of it? Sir Edgesword couldn't apprehend his target."

"I think that's the first time he failed at capturing a criminal."

"Did you know the thief Mr. Edgesword was supposed to catch escaped him?"

Whispers upon whispers, snippets of conversations passing through his head like small daggers cutting his ego, words that felt so far away but so insufferably close at the same time as he made his way to the communal showers.

Piece by piece, he took off his armor, but the weight in his chest felt the same.

Why?

Why did he stop?

What kept him from completing his job, like always?

What was he thinking, doing that?

He held the helmet in his hands, looking at it as if trying to get an answer from it.

...Why is this so painful...?

He sighed, placing it along with the rest of his armor and stepping forward to turn the shower, letting the water run with his thoughts.

He failed.

He wasn't strong enough.

Fast enough.

Tough enough.

Good enough.

He was imperfect.

And the one thing worse than a traitor, is an incompetent excuse of a knight, worth nothing to his lord.

He tightened his hand into a fist and glared at the wall, for the first time that night actually emoting something.

The whispers through the hall fell silent as the knight returned to his quarters, bathed and fully armored once again.

Shame.

Anger.

Disappointment.

Frustration.

So many feelings at once, stirring inside of him and swirling in the pit of his stomach, eating him from the inside out.

...What was that? What did he feel when he saw that man again?

Guilt?

Betrayal?

Confusion?

Empathy?

No, it... It made no sense.

He became what he swore to be.

A knight.

One better than Gregory himself.

One loyal to his nation.

So then, why did he feel... Bad?...

The knight held his sword in his hands, his reflection on the blade.

No matter.

He didn't feel uneasy or uncertain. No, he felt weak .

A small, pathetic man unworthy of his title.

He stepped forward, walking straight past Francis and Gumshoo.

"Edgesword, sir!"

"Miles Edgesword, how dare you come back here!? You're a disg-"

“A disgrace for us knights and the lords we fend for!”

Their voices met, the yelling coming from both parts silencing Francis as Miles finished the sentence. The hostility in his voice died out, as opposed to the commander's.

“ Do you think I don't know that?!”

He slammed the table, breathing heavily as he glared at the other man.

“ Because I assure you, I am very well aware of what I am. ”

He brusquely took a whetstone from the table, turning and leaving the lounge abruptly.

"...Miles!-"

But Don's complaint fell on deaf ears, and the armored man locked the doors behind him, setting out into the late night.

He took a deep breath, finally alone and in silence.

But the silence served only to leave him alone with his thoughts, which time and time again have proven to be the worst possible companions to have.

Not.

Strong.

Enough.

He grit his teeth, frowning so much it threatened to give him a headache. His grip on the hilt of his sword was so tight, his knuckles turned white under the armor.

Failure was never an option.

The knight adjusted his posture, blade in hand, one foot in front of the other, torso pointing towards a training dummy that had definitely seen better days.

Success is the only road a knight shall tread on.

Memories of his training as a young boy flashed through his mind, first guided by his father, then at this exact same place, as an orphan that was left to survive by his own luck.

He launched himself forward, hitting the figure on the neck, rain starting to fall as he thrust his sword time and time again into the wooden doll, slashing, cutting, destroying.

Too Imperfect.

And he thrust again and again, even when he had already demolished most of the target.

Too imprecise.

And he thrust again and again, even when the weight of his sword started feeling heavy, and his arms were getting tired.

Too weak.

And he thrust again and again, even when his breathing was irregular, and he couldn't tell what was rain from what was sweat.

Too hesitant.

And he thrust again and again, even as his feet were turning sore, and the pain from the friction of the junction of his armor digging through his chainmail and into his skin turned agonizing.

Too mild.

And he thrust again and again, even when his vision turned blurry, and he couldn't tell if he was awake or not.

For each strike he landed, he forced himself to do two more. 

And before he could notice, the dark night faded to black.

The next morning, he didn't speak. He simply walked through the hallways with dread, barely touching any food during meals. 

Then it was night again.

And he went to the field once more, only to find the wooden remains of what was once a training dummy, reduced to splinters.

He felt the gentle yet cold touch of a hand on his shoulder, his core freezing completely as he felt his stomach dropping.

"You failed, or so I heard."

That ghostly, vicious voice.

“Commander Grand Cross.”

"And you failed to capture a petty thief , no less."

“I am terribly sorry, sir.”

Miles kneeled before the man, who smiled eerily at the scene.

"Remind me again, what are you doing here exactly?"

“Humbly serving our feudal lord, sir.”

"Hmph. And yet, it seems you failed at this simple feat."

“It will not happen again, sir. That I promise.”

"It best not. The last thing we need is another weakling of a guard to betray his lord's expectations."

Miles swallowed, though there was no saliva to be found.

Manfred Don Karma. 

The man who made him into a knight, taking the miserable kid under his wing. 

The man to only a few years ago, have declared him a knight, in this exact same position.

He failed him.

“I shall regain your trust and prove myself worthy of my title, sir.”

There was no answer, only a snicker.

Phoenix Blight, wherever you are…

Your days are numbered.

. . .

Chapter Text

. . .


Despite Maya's request, and Phoenix's promise to explain it later, he didn't explain that day. Neither did he on the day after, or a week, or after a full month passed, when he happened to come across the knight again.

He couldn't say he was exactly happy to see Edgesword, but he had plenty of time to think about the situation.

And he thought. A lot.

It took some time for the initial shock and denial to wear out, but once it did, he planned out what he'd do once they met again.

Because they would. He knew it.

And sure enough, there he was, hopping from rooftop to rooftop, the same three knights pursuing him on top of horses, with Miles Edgesword on the lead.

He barely had enough time to run away after stealing from a drunkard before the knight spotted him. 

Now he just needed to find a way to get rid of the other two.

The task proved itself fairly easy, seeing as Gumshoo claimed to know a shortcut, only to be proven wrong and derail completely from the path, needing Francis to come rescue him.

Miles, on the other hand, accelerated, gracefully jumping obstacles with his horse and calculating a path to corner the enemy.

Phoenix whistled, surprised that he didn't really have to do anything.

Well, here goes nothing.

He was getting tired already, but kept on running, knowing the knight could be fast on a horse, but he couldn't exactly get up there with it.

This time, he wasn't just blindly trying to get away. He knew where he was going, and he'd look over his shoulder every once in a while to make sure the armored man was still following.

He thanked goodness as he finally approached the place, spotting the grooves he was able to climb before. 

He jumped, his hands finding them and pulling him up and into the abandoned building.

The knight slowed down as he approached the building, cautious of his surroundings. He hesitated to leave his horse behind, but dismounted, tying him to a nearby structure and wielding his sword, its blade sharper than ever as he silently walked forward, observing every nook and cranny from the place in search for the criminal.

However, he didn't really have to look. 

Just after he entered, he noticed a figure up on the wooden logs that supported the roof.

Once his vision adjusted, he saw Phoenix there, crouched, and looking directly at him.

“Hey.”

He didn't answer, simply squaring up and pointing his sword in his direction, though the distance was too much to be able to reach him.

Phoenix raised an eyebrow, but it was hard to see his expression from that distance and in the dark.

“You can't throw it that high and we both know it.”

Still no sound, nor a reaction. Miles simply squinted.

He knew he couldn't throw it, yes. 

But that didn't stop him from keeping his guard and acting up.

The thief chuckled awkwardly at the uncomfortable silence, and the way the knight glared at him.

“Damn, is that any way to greet an old friend?”

At that, he earned a snicker and a somehow even colder glare. 

“You've got some nerve to toy with the authorities.”

“Oh, you still talk.”

He joked, swinging his legs as he sat on the joist.

“I'm just trying to start a conversation here. Didn't get the chance last time.”

“State your business. I have nothing to banter with you about, thief ” he snapped, the grip tightening on the hilt of his sword.

Phoenix pursed his lips. He knew it wasn't gonna be an easy conversation. After all, they both stood on very different sides on the subject of law . Still, now that his childhood friend knew of his "feats", he at least wanted to try and see what he missed.

After all, before that, he considered the silver haired boy to be an important part of his life, one that stayed in the past.

“My business? I just want to talk , that's my business with you. You do remember me... don't you?”

He asked, though the answer was clear.

Of course Miles remembered him. He wouldn't still be free if he didn't.

“Oh, I see, then.”

He laughed bitterly.

“You come here to mock me.”

He wavered the blade, noticeably mad.

“Do you take me as a joke?! Do you think I take my job lightly?! You must be out of your mind if you assume I let scoundrels such as yourself roam freely on a daily basis.”

The thief sighed. This really wasn't going how he'd like it to. Not that it wasn't expected. But he'd really like to have an actual conversation.

“Look”, he started, slowly. He would lower his voice, but then Miles couldn't hear him so high up. “I'm not here to make fun of you. So if you'd kindly put down the sword…”

“Oh, so now the sword is an issue.”

He sneered, walking further into the venue.

“If your objective isn't surrendering, then we have nothing to talk about. Just because I used to know you, it doesn't mean I harbor any sympathy for your kind.”

“My kind?”

He repeated, with a fake indignation and a hand to his chest.

“Seriously now, you're a law guy, I get it, that's what you wanted to be anyway, so congrats. But I brought you here to get answers . I thought you up and died or something.

The sheer nerve of the man was enough to leave Miles astonished.

“And what makes you think I owe you an explanation? Since when was it optional for me to be in a house fire?”

That made Phoenix shut up.

He almost forgot the state in which he found his friend's home when he tried to reach him. Maybe his brain purposely wiped that away to spare him from the years of asking himself what happened there. It didn't work, though. And now, he could almost clearly visualize the scene.

It was about a week after he stopped seeing Miles at school. He figured he was sick, on a trip or simply too busy. But after so many days, he simply had a sensation, a feeling that something was very wrong.

And that's when he saw the state of the Edgeswords' home.

After that, he never saw Miles again, or his dad. 

On one side, he hoped they simply moved to a better place. On the other... He feared that better place wasn't on this plane of existence.

And when he heard about Gregory Edgesword's death... it was almost certain that his son had not survived. Still, he had hope.

Now, there he was. Alive and thriving... and ready to pounce on him with a blade if he decided to get down.

He wasn't sure what to say in this situation.

I'm sorry? My condolences?

“Miles…”

But he was immediately interrupted by said man.

“I don't want your pity, Phoenix Blight.”

He spoke with such anger, it was almost as if he spit venom.

“He got what he deserved. That damned traitor.”

Phoenix fell silent again, but now out of confusion.

Just as he thought he was starting to get to him, he seemed even more hostile. And then...

What did he mean by that?

“Gregory?...”

At the mention of the name, the once cold glare turned deadly .

His answer was a ruthless swing of his blade, not towards Phoenix, but to a wooden pillar, which promptly broke and rendered the structure the thief stood on unstable.

The knight quickly made his way to his sword, retrieving it and getting back on his horse, ready to chase back the criminal.

Phoenix yelped, and thankfully was able to hold on with the help of his twin tails. But he also realized that Edgesword definitely didn't want to talk , and that he screwed up majorly. 

While he wanted to try to understand him, that wasn't the moment for it. And if he pushed too much, not only could he be caught, he'd end up flattened on the ground.

He quickly jumped to another joist and scuttled to a hole on the roof, through which he passed with a little bit of effort, once again leaving the knight behind.

. . .

Another day, another failure to the list.

How many times were there now? Four? He couldn't tell. Phoenix somehow escaped him every single time, and though he expected it to go differently, it seemed like the whispers quieted down as the other knights got used to that routine, Manfred himself assigning Miles the lone task to arrest the thief, promising a generous promotion to him in case he managed to.

Each sight of the man ended up in the exact same way; him pinned to a wall, face to face with Edgesword, and yet somehow escaping him in the most unprecedented of ways.

Though the routine was getting tiring, Miles would be lying if he said he wasn't beginning to get used to it. 

This time, the tell Gumshoo had received mentioned a spiky dark haired bandit near a noble's party, and so, the three knights made their way into it - this time, in disguise as to not scare away the guests.

Francis wore a noble's robes, plenty of jewelry adorning it; and Richard dressed as a lower ranked guard, much to the dismay of the original owner of the armor.

The last knight brushed his hair into a low ponytail, making sure the last preparations were met.

“Let's go.”

As the doors opened, the trio was met with dozens of people in the most varied costumes, adorned with gold, jewels, feathers, and the most intricate masks.

One woman danced past the entrance, in a peacock inspired dress with a big, extravagant tail attached to the back. A man wore what seemed to be a wolf head, but the rest of his clothes screamed wealthy.

That seemed exactly the kind of place a thief would like.

Full of riches, full of distractions.

"Richard Gumshoo, we are not infiltrating like this."

"Huh? Why not, pal?"

"Have you no eyes?! This is a masquerade ball, you fool!”

"And what of it?"

"Are you insane?! We have no masks!"

"...Oh. I guess I forgot about that detail."

Gumshoo and Francis bickered in whispers, the smaller knight holding himself back to not hit his colleague on the head. 

“Hush. Francis, let Gumshoo in. His face is hidden, and he can scan around the room while we find masks for ourselves. As for this matter, look over there.”

Edgesword pointed at an open window leading to an empty room.

"...A pantry?”

“It's not just any pantry. Some of the unused decorations are there. We might as well bet on our luck and search for masks there.”

Don and Richard nodded, the trio ready to put the plan into action.

. . .

Phoenix carefully closed the window behind him, after making sure there was no one else in the corridor. He could already hear the faint music coming from the ballroom on the first floor.

While he could simply take what he wanted and leave right now, it was better to make sure he wouldn't be recognized in case someone walked in on him.

Plus, it was a party, would be a shame if he couldn't have a little fun too.

And so, he scurried to find something to disguise himself with.

It shouldn't be hard, after all, it was a masquerade. The perfect occasion to go unnoticed.

He couldn't help but think how careless these people were, sending out invites to other nobles they didn't even know, just because they were also rich, and in disguises, no less.

They were practically begging to be robbed.

And he was kind enough to take the hint and fulfil their wish.

With a snicker, he found an empty room that looked like a dressing room at a theater. He took a look inside, checking if it was in fact empty, then stepped in and closed the door.

There were some clothes available there, though they all looked basically the same. Plus, there was very little fabric in them, but it was not like he had much of a choice there. That'd have to do.

The thief barely had time to stuff his original shirt inside his pouch before someone knocked on the door.

His heart raced, wondering if just the upper part would be enough to convince someone he belonged there.

Before he could answer it, a woman opened the door and saw him there, alone. 

“What are you still doing here?! The show is about to start! Come on!”

And he was dragged away, unable to protest.

. . .

"Huh. I didn't know your ears were pierced. What a pleasant surprise."

“Is this even relevant to our disguises...?”

"But of course! A noble would never look anything other than pristine."

The knight sighed, checking himself in the mirror.

He changed his vest to clothes more befitting of the situation — a black elven waistcoat filled with gold ornaments in leaf motifs, as well as a black belt to cinch it to his waist. Francis made sure to find a matching pair of small golden teardrop earrings, which he was very adamant about using. The most important part, however, was his mask, as it secured them a place in the ball. 

As Don picked his mask, Miles put on a black lace one, tying it carefully so as to not damage his very well groomed hair.

“Ready?”

The shorter knight nodded, and both men left the pantry, carefully examining their surroundings.

As the people danced in the center or the big hall, there were tables with food near the walls, and some merchants and even artists, selling paintings, quick portraits, trinkets and the like.

Amongst them, even a fortune teller tent had been placed in a corner, and a young girl was reading the palm of a woman in a rose dress.

"Pfsht. How low are these nobles stooping? Fortune telling? As if those irrationalities have any sense to them."

Francis rolled his eyes, yet seemed intrigued. Miles sighed at that, not buying his act.

“If you're that interested in it, go ahead. It'll actually be better to split, we'll cover more ground faster.”

"I'm not!-!"

But Miles only raised an eyebrow, and Don Karma made his way to the tent, face flushed and muttering curses.

The commander chuckled at his reaction, making his way towards the middle of the ballroom, noticing some comotion near a stage.

. . .

As the shorter knight approached the tent, the girl seemed to be finishing with her previous client, and just when he arrived, the woman turned around to go see the paintings, leaving the seer behind. 

There was no line, so upon noticing the man, she smiled brightly at him. 

She seemed to be around Don Karma's age, if not a little younger, judging by her small stature and youthful appearance.

“Good evening! How may I help you today?”

Francis raised an eyebrow, looking her from head to toes, or, well, head to crystal ball.

“Pardon the intrusion, but how many ‘clients’ have you had today?”

The black haired girl acted unbothered, though one of her eyebrows seemed to move up a little. 

“Throughout the whole day? About four, two at this party.”

“And people pay you for it?”

He spoke in a mix of astonishment, confusion and disdain, all three very visible in the expression of his face.

The smile remained on her face, sweet and cheerful despite the knight's tone.

“Well, where do you think the gold came from?”

She tapped the jar in which she stored the money, a few shiny coins sitting at the bottom.

“Depends. For all I know, it could be from illegitimate sources” he crossed his arms, looking from the jar to the seer. “That is, if not plain and simple fraud.”

“Oh yeah?”

The girl crossed her arms too, as if mimicking him, her friendly smile turning challenging.

“If you have a problem with me, you can talk to the host himself. But what exactly is your complaint? That you're offended by the sight of something your closed mind can't comprehend? Or is it that you're afraid of gazing into your future?”

That last particular sentence seemed to have struck a nerve.

“I don't need any predictions for my future, thank you very much. And I'm not afraid of it either. I'm building myself a better tomorrow each day, miss-”

He stopped himself, looking around for any form of identification of the fortune teller, but ultimately failing to find any, which resulted in his cheeks flushing in embarrassment, and he mumbled a question back at her.

“What's your name, again?”

She tittered at the sudden change in demeanor that made the rest of his sermon just look silly.

“Fae. Maya Fae.”

He grumbled, extending a shaky hand towards her and looking away, face tinted a bright pink.

“Don Karma, Francis. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Fae chuckled again, taking a moment to have a laugh at the knight's expense before actually accepting his hand. But instead of shaking it, she holds it between hers, turning his palm upwards.

“Would you care to try it, big boy? ” She teased. “It's on the house, just this time.”

The man completely lacked a reaction, simply widening his eyes and somehow blushing more.

“UHM.”

He pretended to have a coughing fit, looking away and covering his face with a fist, taking advantage of the pose to touch his hand to his cheek, just to check his temperature.

Why was his face so hot!?

The realization that he was blushing sent Francis into a loop, embarrassed by being embarrassed. His clearly fake coughing died out, and he found the courage to look at Maya again.

“S-Sure.”

The girl pretended not to notice, her demeanor changing back to cheerful as she ran a finger through the lines in his palm, which tickled slightly. She then closed her eyes, humming to herself before addressing Don.

“There is... someone…”

He silently assumed back his cynical posture, practically pouting as she began the reading.

Her brows furrowed a little as she felt the knight's palm.

“I feel admiration on your part, but also hostility. It's someone... who you consider close. A friend? Or... A relative, maybe.”

She paused again.

“Your feelings are conflicting. You want to be more like them... but also better than them. You want to prove yourself…”

Silence.

“You're jealous .”

The man fell silent, a serious expression on his face as he looked at his hand, lost in thought.

Jealousy.

Though he would never admit to it, it was true.

He was jealous, indeed.

Who wouldn't be?

One day, your hopes and dreams fall apart, and as you scramble to put them together and plan a way to fulfill them, you see someone else doing it first.

Exactly how it happened with Francis.

Argument upon argument, frustration folding over more frustration. He wanted to be a knight . Like his father, Commander Grand Cross Manfred Don Karma.

The name "Don Karma" evoked many things in peoples' hearts. Some were frightened. Some were admirers. Some were indifferent. But there was no such a thing as someone not knowing the name. He was the head of the knights and military affairs, after all.

And a great name demands great doings. Good or bad, heroic feats were expected of those with the Don Karma blood. And though Francis longed for greatness, in his father's eyes, he was nothing but a little kid playing pretend.

"You can't be a knight."

"That's not befitting of a lady."

And so be it. In an act of rebellion, he cut off his hair and infiltrated the knights under the name of Francis, trying to prove to his father that yes, he could be a knight, and not just a knight, but the best there ever was. 

Maybe then, he would show him he could make him proud.

And for a while, he truly thought he did.

He climbed ranks in a never before seen pace, demonstrated tremendous battle expertise and even earned plenty of medals under his belt.

But the golden age fell apart when Miles too became a knight.

The promotions Francis had gotten in so little time were nothing near the newest recruit's ability to climb to the top, ending up one rank above him in what looked like an effortless attempt.

And suddenly, the fight to prove himself to his father had competition. He needed to be better. He needed to show him what he was made of.

In the end, he knew what he wanted.

Approval.

As a man and as a knight.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. 

Maybe this sorcery had some sort of validity to it, after all.

Maya had long let go of the knight's hand, and it was clear that she had been watching him as these thoughts unfolded, her expression unreadable. 

He didn't have to say anything, though, as just as he tried to speak, she did.

“Well? How was that for a fraud?” She asked, leaning forward with a victorious smile.

“Tsk!”

He pulled his hand away, face reddening once more.

“I might not know what sort of witchcraft this is, Fae. Still, you did not predict my future. And for that, I still claim victory” he huffed, puffing his chest.

Her smile didn't falter.

“Oh, but of course. After all, that was just the free trial.”

“Free... Trial?”

He kept the same disdainful expression, but his tone sounded interested.

The seer giggled, knowing she had him hooked.

“This is my job, you know, I don't just go around offering free peeks into the future of anyone who asks, no matter how charming they might be.”

He took a look at the tip jar, remembering what the girl had said just earlier. Two clients at the party, four the whole day, yet the jar was still quite empty. 

“...How much do you charge for your services?”

His voice didn't sound hostile anymore, if anything, it sounded... remorseful.

The change in his tone didn't go unnoticed by the girl, her expression changing from that seemingly permanent cocky smile to slightly curious.

“Two gold coins.”

Don Karma didn't mutter a single sound as he searched for a purse inside his pocket, placing not two, three or four, but eight golden coins inside the seer's jar, making it enough for her to afford at least two proper meals this week. He finally looked her back in the eye.

“I don't want any readings into my future.”

He interrupted the pause, not leaving her any chance to speak.

“You mustn't undersell yourself. Be it a trick or not, whatever it is you're doing, you clearly have the talent it takes. Don't let anyone take advantage of you. “

He looked at the tip jar, now full.

“Two coins is too little.”

Now it was Maya's turn to be left speechless, her cheeks starting to get red too. Her eyes went from the knight to the jar and the knight again, unsure of how to appear grateful. Not that she wasn't , she just wasn't used to that level of generosity.

Some clients would leave tips from time to time, but it usually didn't surpass one or two coins on top of her price.

She looked away, chuckling awkwardly to try to shake off the tension she felt on her shoulders suddenly.

“We're really not from the same reality, are we?... Plenty of people would say two coins is too much . If I raise the price, I risk not getting any business at all.

“Depends on who's your target audience” he answered, completely nonchalant. “You said you had two clients outside here, and two here. Yet you were invited by the host, as you mentioned.

Francis paused, crossing his arms.

“Truth is, the clientele you should aim for are influential nobles, such people are always the most indecisive ones. There's not enough gold in the world to sum the amount of riches they would spend on a good fortune teller to see their future. And to do that, you ought to build yourself a name — which, by having been invited by the host, you seem to be on the right path for.”

He pointed a finger upwards, gesturing as he spoke. For the first time in their conversation, the knight was smiling — more of a smirk than a grin, but it looked to be as close to a smile as the girl would get from him.

“It doesn't take a seer to acknowledge you have great potential, Miss Fae. You mustn't settle for less than deserved.”

Maya listened intently, knowing he was right.

She had been approached just a few days ago, not knowing exactly how they heard of her, but a servant was sent to give her an invite, and of course she agreed to come, after all, rich people had money to spare and, like Francis said, were usually the ones willing to pay to ease their worries about the future. 

And now there she was, in the middle of these people, still waiting to be approached by curious nobles, but the knight had only been the third that evening still.

“I... see.”

She said, still not looking at him directly, a little lost in thought.

While she had her tactics to get people interested in her readings, she hadn't thought about moving her tent to more wealthy neighborhoods, since it was just in front of her improvised home. Plus, because she thought people there would judge her more than seek guidance.

That's why she had a plan B. Well, not her, they , since she didn't come alone.

Before she could say something, her attention was caught by another song starting, more cheerful than the last. Her smile came back as she looked at the people starting to dance to it.

She looked back at Don Karma, her first thought being if he'd mind waiting until she came back if he wished to talk more, but that wasn't what came out of her mouth.

“Care to dance?”

“P-pardon me?!”

The man placed a hand on his chest, the smirk dissolving from his red face, replaced by a startled expression.

“...You... You're inviting me for a dance?”

She laughed, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow at the man.

“Yeah? Why, are you busy?”

He mulled it over in his head, remembering the plan. Well... Dancing does make one move a lot. Could be good to cover more ground, as the commander said.

He looked away as he thought, still blushing fervently at the invitation, then bowed, taking her hand on his own and smirking up at her again, though clearly embarrassed.

“Well, it's not exactly couth of me to wait for a lady to ask me for a dance. So what do you say? Care for a dance, Miss Fae?”

“Well, isn't he a gent?”

She said with a chuckle.

“You already know my answer, don't you? So let's go!”

The girl practically dragged him to the middle of the ballroom, leaving her tent behind.

Chapter Text

Great. Just great.

The silver haired man sighed, struggling to see anything through the crowd. In less than an hour, about three people had stepped on his shoes by accident — which is to say, there were a lot of people and barely any space to move. Maybe it was because of the music starting to play, but it seemed like the main area was filled to the brim with guests, now more than ever.

Social events were never his strong suit. Loud music, loud noises, and even louder people. It really was hard to focus when it felt like his head was screaming, ears ringing and world spinning with the disorienting amount of stimulus coming from each and every nook and cranny of the place. 

He took a deep breath, leaning against the closest wall and trying to recompose himself, when he felt his back bumping into someone else's. As he turned to apologize, he spotted something interesting : one of the dancers on a nearby stage was wearing a different outfit bottom — one he immediately recognized as the thief's.

Not only that, but if it wasn't for the clothes, one look at the characteristic blueish spiky hair of said "dancer" was already enough to tell him that, yes, he had found his target.

And the thief wasn't very happy about his situation.

Leaving the stage would bring too much attention, more than just staying on his spot in the middle of the dancers, who seemed to quickly realize there was an impostor among them, but said nothing, as there was no time.

And that also meant Phoenix had no time to learn the choreography. Luckily, it wasn't very fast, and though he wouldn't admit it in any other situation, he had what it took to be a dancer. 

Thinking about it made him frown, as he remembered how Maya had teased him about it before, saying maybe he'd have more luck dancing on the town square for tips. He said he'd rather have his tongue cut off.

At least, his flexibility and experience with gymnastics proved rather useful in the situation, as well as the many times he had watched people dance at festivals and public presentations, and even joined in.

After a little bit of pretending he knew the steps, he actually picked up on it rather quickly, and, at least in his opinion, it was pretty convincing. 

He almost felt proud of himself, were it not for the fact he felt exposed, underdressed and was anxiously counting the seconds until the end of the song, ready to hop out of the stage and go back to his objective the second the band stopped playing.

And before that could happen, the knight made it his mission to get to the stage.

Squeezing himself to pass through the eccentric folks and nobles in the crowd, the man managed to stand one line from the platform — the perfect place to be able to spot the thief, and not be spotted back.

And indeed he wasn't, as the outlaw had his eyes — one covered by hair, presumably to avoid drawing attention to their difference in color — on the rest of the group instead of the audience.

The group was of belly dancers, and it was clear he had no previous knowledge or practice to perform that kind of dance, yet the rest of his movements were fluid, and since he wasn't in the front, that could easily go unnoticed by most.

Most, but not Miles, as the “new member” was exactly the one he was paying the most attention to.

As the song was starting to come to an end, the knight felt someone nudging at him — a short old man, pointing at the center lady and whispering to him, mentioning how graceful the movement of the dancers' waists was. The abrupt call to his attention completely caught him off guard, not because he was captured by the main group's movements, but because he had been much too focused on the burglar's. 

Although he had only been mimicking the other performers, there was something oddly... hypnotizing about him, be it the way in which his hair and the fabric over his face flowed with his movements, the fluidity of his gestures, or the way in which the light from the chandelier reflected on the golden ornaments of his outfit, the dance steps relying greatly on the movement of his hips and arms, both moving up and down, side to side...

He shook his head, face burning fiercely as he tried to get his mind back in place.

“Ah, uhm... Very graceful, indeed.”

Just as he answered the other man, the music finally ceased, and the audience clapped.

Phoenix barely tried to hold his impulse to get off the stage before the other dancers finished bowing and waving and blowing kisses at the crowd, being the first to descend the side stairs in a hurry.

As the thief went down the platform, a crowd of people gathered around, trying to get the chance to talk to one of the artists. The knight amidst them snickered, knowing his plan was about to gain traction. 

“Looking for a way out?”

A familiar voice called for the bandit, its dashing owner extending a hand towards him with a smirk. Up close and with no armor, the man was barely recognizable.

Upon hearing it, Phoenix froze, knowing who that voice belonged to. He didn't move his head much to look at him, as if he wasn't the one being addressed. But he did look from the corner of his eye, and that certainly did not help in making him move forward.

That was probably the first time he had seen Edgesword's face with no helm on the way. The first time in more than a decade, at least.

Though the flight part of him told him to run, something about the smile on the man's face was almost inviting. 

He gulped, trying to move past him, but the task quickly proved itself impossible.

The attempt to dodge him made Miles chuckle, the teasing tone of his voice even more evident.

“I must say, I wasn't aware of your performance skills. Quite the impressive little show you put on.”

Phoenix felt his cheeks heating up a little. Of course he was watching. He just hadn't processed it enough to realize it yet.

He breathed in, trying to calm his racing heart, knowing he'd risk causing a scene and making his escape much more difficult.

“What can I say? I'm a natural.”

He said putting up a very convincing confident face, though it was mostly covered except for one eye.

“Well, you might be a natural at choreography, but apparently, not at costume designing. Your dancing might have had the audience fooled, but your mismatched bottoms were a dead giveaway.”

He raised his eyebrows in a cocky manner, well aware of his higher ground.

“And if I were you, I wouldn't linger near your ‘colleagues’, seeing as they appear to have figured as much.”

The fingers of his extended hand brushed gently the other man's, not forcing him to, but rather, suggesting him to hold it and take the way out.

The "dancer" raised an eyebrow back, looking from his extended hand back to his face, but what came out of his mouth wasn't anything Miles was expecting as a response.

“So you were paying attention to my bottoms ?”

“Tsk!”

The teasing expression he had on dissolved entirely onto a red-faced scowl, pale skin flushing brightly.

“I was paying attention to you as a whole, Phoenix Blight! It's not my fault your outfit leaves so little to the imagination.”

The thief chuckled, appearing slightly more at ease after turning the tables on the knight, though he was still on high alert and thinking of a way out.

He accepted his hand.

“And what exactly does that mean?”

“W-what do you mean, what do I mean?! What caught my eye about you was the lack of unity, it's like you were a lime amidst lemons!”

The knight reprimanded, whispering. 

As both men managed to make their way out of the crowd, Miles took a deep breath, visibly more relaxed now that they had more space to walk around. His eyes fell on Phoenix once more, gaze softening and turning somewhat concerned.

“I... I've seen some banquet tables nearby. Have you had any food today?”

It was hard to see the thief's face behind the veil and his hair, but Miles didn't need much to see that he found the question very suspicious.

The thing was, the outfit top covered little skin, evidencing not only the markings in his arms and torso, but also how thin he actually was under his puffy shirt and blue vest. Yes, it shouldn't be much of a surprise considering he had a lot of exercise running from the law, but it made the man question if it was really a healthy kind of thin.

“I don't feel like eating anything” he answered, being careful with his tone, but not really answering the question.

The avoidance didn't go unnoticed by the knight, and he sighed. 

“...This... might sound a little insincere coming from me.”

He started, most clearly hesitant and not making eye contact with the burglar.

“But just because we stand on fundamentally opposing stand points in the matters of legality , it doesn't mean I'm incapable of empathy.”

Another pause. 

Ironically, though it was a masquerade ball, it seemed like Edgesword's mask was coming undone. He didn't feel like that cold, unfeeling barrier of a man that he otherwise looked to be in any other encounter they've had. It seemed like in their many chases, he had grown somehow less hostile towards Phoenix. What was once his lone mission became more of a game of cat and mouse. Then again, undoubtedly, the fact they knew each other since childhood had a hand in his demeanor as well. And even more than that, that last conversation they had.

Something about it deeply resonated within Miles. "I brought you here to get answers” , the thief had said. 

Truth be told, it could be applied the other way around just the same.

What happened to him?

What made him this way?

Which point in his life brought him to this?

He broke the silence, voice heavy with concern and regret.

“While I cannot force you to eat, I give you my word I won't do any harm to you in case you choose to.”

This time, it felt like the roles were reversed.

As much as Phoenix joked, he was clearly keeping his guard up, and now it was him glaring at the knight as he talked, analyzing him, trying to understand the meaning behind the sudden change in his attitude towards him.

Because, to him, yes, it was sudden. 

While he didn't think Miles was capable of directly hurting him, he was still a knight, he was still after him, still ready to throw him in a cell.

So while he still had hope of understanding his once best friend, and even maybe one day rekindling the bond they used to have, it didn't mean he could just trust him out of nowhere.

However, he didn't have much of a choice, when he was standing right there in front of him, in the middle of a crowded place, with no visible exits except for the guarded door. There was no place to go, not right now. So if there was a time and a place to talk... maybe that was it.

He sighed.

“Fine.”

But the answer he got wasn't verbal.

Miles simply turned his head towards the other man, giving him an unassuming smile and leading him to the table.

Chicken, potatoes, pork, beef — any food you could think of was right there on display, no price tags in sight. Even Edgesword's stomach grumbled at the sight.

“...I suppose I'll indulge myself as well.”

There was so much food in fact, that Phoenix didn't know where to look, and the fact that Miles was right there too frankly made him a bit embarrassed. He was almost changing his mind, but then as if on cue, his stomach growled too, and he clutched at it.

Avoiding the knight's gaze — and of anyone else —, the man grabbed a handful of appetizers, not caring about dirtying his hands to fill his plate, and stuffed two at the same time under the veil.

The commander didn't say a thing, looking away as to give the man more privacy as he ate. 

It didn't take an acute observationist to be able to tell the bandit was very hungry, but still, if it made him feel any less embarrassed, Miles was willing to pretend he didn't notice. 

He fetched himself a plate, putting a few sweets in it, along with a piece of barely done steak.

Though he didn't check to see if Miles was watching him, the lack of comments from the knight did help in tranquilizing the thief.

It was only now that he realized just how hungry he was. It wasn't in his plans to even go near those tables, so he wouldn't get distracted. He could wait until after they left. Or so he thought.

The last time he ate was upon waking up, when he found a note and half of a bun that was supposed to be Maya's part. She had left early and presumably could afford something for herself.

Even so, he promised he'd make up for it later.

But for now, since he was cornered, at least he could think of a way out on a full stomach. It was difficult to plan that out, though, when his mind was already occupied with questions about the knight behind him.

Phoenix would be lying to himself if he said he didn't think about Edgesword constantly ever since they met again. Questions about his past flooded his mind, as well as his more immediate questions, as he asked himself if that behavior was simply an act... or if he truly cared.

It was hard to tell. And that was coming from Phoenix. Plus, it was Miles . He didn't strike him as someone who knew how to fake sympathy, and Phoenix knew a thing or two about acting. Maybe it was just that he was caught off guard.

Like the commander, he had grown accustomed to this "game" of theirs, knowing he always found a way out in the end, to then repeat it a few days later. Part of him liked their banter, not because of the adrenaline, but because it was better than not seeing him ever again. Their reunion wasn't pretty, but a reunion nonetheless.

It was... confusing. But brought him some hope. Hope that maybe things could one day go back to how they were. Or... at least closer to it.

Then, there was the other part of him. The part who wished this never happened. Because as much as he wished that could become true, he knew that, in reality, he was risking himself by living the way he did, and eventually he'd have to leave that city behind too, and Miles along with it.

He sighed, grabbing some fruits and stashing them in his pouch.

Edgesword interrupted the awkward silence with a satisfied hum, looking at one of the pastries he fetched. It was a rose shaped puff pastry, the petals were made of apple slices covered in powdered sugar. The sweet was now bit, but there were plenty more on the table.

“Have you tried this one? It's rather tasty, yet delicate, so I don't believe you can store some for later.”

The knight offered one to the man next to him. He was running his mouth, and well aware of it. The constant stream of thoughts in his mind wouldn't quiet down whatsoever, and each moment spent in silence made it worse. 

Unanswered questions shot through his mind, but what truly worried him was the situation he was in. Truth was, he needed a way out just as badly as the thief, except that in his case, he needed a way out to arrest him.

Though whispers traveled fast, the news of his failure to arrest a mysterious robber hadn't yet reached the nobles, and he planned to keep it that way. This, however, made his arrest more difficult, as it would have to be once he was outside. But that too was a concern: once he was outside, fleeting would be much easier. Still, as counterintuitive as it was, as long as the thief was inside, it was in his best interest to keep him nearby at all times, as to make it impossible for him to steal. 

Phoenix needed to lose Miles in order to leave, but Miles needed to keep Phoenix in order to leave.

This made both men forcefully stay inside, as the first to move would be the first to lose, much like in a chess game, calculating their strategy.

The commander's reputation had been tarnished enough — if it came to his Feudal lord's attention that he had not only failed to arrest a criminal, but let him in on an important noble's masquerade ball, he would most certainly face dire consequences.

However, their cards were still very much stuck to their chests, and as long as the night prowled and they were still under this ballroom's chandeliers, nothing stopped them from using this opportunity as a way to explore more of this relationship.

Phoenix blushed slightly at the mention of him taking food to go. While he wasn't exactly stealing anything, it was a party for mostly rich people, so him doing that while there was plenty of food available only made him look desperate .

Well, in one way... Wasn't he?

Yet, pity wasn't what he was aiming for.

He ran a hand through his hair, as if to better hide his face, before daring to look at the knight. The eye contact didn't last for long as the thief looked down at the sweet, carefully accepting it.

While chewing, he himself felt quite awkward. Normally he would be teasing the knight with sarcastic comments about how slow he was, but now... there was nothing. Not when he acted like there wasn't a great barrier between them.

He swallowed the food and looked at Miles again, trying to find it within himself to give him some snark.

“So,” he started, trying to sound casual, “did you happen to get an invitation? Or are you just here for little ol' me?”

The commander smiled, and while it had some smugness to it, it also looked genuine and coy. 

“I'll have you know, I'm acquainted with the host. Before I was a knight, I was a guard, and I worked briefly for them.”

He put down his empty plate, dodging the question as he patted his lips with a handkerchief.

“Oh, isn't that convenient.” Phoenix gave him a chuckle, leaning a little closer. It wasn't just to tease him, but because he just noticed the jewelry dangling from his ears. Not only was he easily distracted by shiny things, it also... looked quite good. Surprisingly fitting for a man whom he'd only ever seen wearing heavy equipment.

In fact, he almost looked like a different person when he wasn't frowning so hard, and it was quite nice to be able to see his face for once. Well, partially, but it wasn't like a lace mask hid much. 

The rogue looked away upon noticing he might have been staring too much, to the point his gaze had fallen to the knight's tight fitting vest.

The glaring didn't go unnoticed, and Miles chuckled at it. This time, he was the one leaning forward, raising an eyebrow at Phoenix.

The proximity not only made pieces of his starlight hair brush against the side of the thief's face, but also made an elegant, floral yet deep and wooden scent more evident, coming from the commander's neck. 

“For someone who criticized my method of identification, you seemed to be awfully focused on the suiting of my clothes.”

He snickered, voice dropping low as he gave him a smug smile.

Phoenix's cheeks heated up even more, and he thanked heavens for the fact that the "loaned" veil covered more of his face than Miles' mask did for him. He breathed in weakly, caught off guard by the extreme proximity, but didn't dare to move away.

He was used to being the one shooting teasing comments to mess with the knight, it certainly was new to have him actually respond to those in the same level.

“What? Is it also a crime to admire someone's outfit choice? That'd mean you're just as guilty as I am, wouldn't it now, commander? ”

The man huffed, blushing ever so slightly more. His smile faltered for half a second, but quickly returned as Miles' eyes gleamed, teasing him once again. As they were talking, people gathered at the center of the ballroom, a slow song echoing through the halls — And Miles had noticed that.

“Oh, you may take your time to admire it all you want to, Phoenix. In fact, if you're that interested in it, it's only fair I put on a little show like you did.”

He stepped back, bowing and taking his hand on his own, his smirk only ever widening as he lowered his face to the same level as his hand, pressing a gentle kiss against it and not once breaking eye contact with the thief.

“Care for a dance?”

He was met with a moment of silence as the thief processed the invitation — and the kiss —, blinking up at him in confusion, his blue eye going from his plate to the man before him. 

“...Dance?... With you ?”

The hesitance made the knight embarrassed, not ready for this outcome.

“...Well, I believe I kissed your hand, yes.”

There was another short pause.

Phoenix really did not know how to react to that. 

It was one thing to dance in front of an audience who had no idea who he was, or that he was even a man. But he had never danced with anyone... not like this.

And on top of that, he was still pretty taken aback by the knight's behavior that night.

Just what was he thinking? Was he so confident in his plan of cornering Phoenix that he decided to toy with him before bringing him to the authorities? Make him believe he actually wanted to spend this time with him?

And the worst part was… that he was actually considering it.

The thief's voice was low and didn't emote much when he responded, but he didn't retrieve his hand.

“What's gotten into you?”

The teasing tone on the knight's voice died out. 

In fact, his whole demeanor changed. His puffed chest sunk, his smile vanished, his expression dimmed out. 

He sighed, the lights from his neck flickering and ears lowering.

“...I…”

He straightened his back, looking melancholically at their hands, voice somber and quiet.

“I've been... thinking about what you've said. That you wanted to talk, that is.”

He hesitated, not even sure of where he was going with this. Part of him thought it was wrong that he entertained the idea. Phoenix was a sought after criminal, one whose arrest was assigned exclusively to Miles, after all. Still, that man, he... he was his first ever friend. He was once the meaning of his whole world, his safe place and joy when all else was gloom.

He wanted to know what happened to him as well.

Maybe it was too much to ask, after everything they've been through. He was in no place to demand any explanations from him, either.

Still, though his actions spoke otherwise, he never truly had a desire to hurt him. Yet, it was his job. Never once in their chases had he used his weapons to harm him, the closest he had ever gotten to that being when he struck the pillar of that abandoned warehouse in order to scare him off.

He sighed again, trying to form a coherent sentence in his mind.

“...I want to talk, as well.”

Silence.

Phoenix only noticed that he had been frowning once his own expression relaxed, an almost imperceptible gasp leaving his lips.

He was still hesitant. He still knew if he wasn't careful this could be his last day of freedom. He was still scared .

And yet, his heart sank when he heard those words.

It had been a good while since the last time he cried. Yet he felt a familiar unwanted sensation in his eyes, which threatened to fill up with water. They didn't.

He took a deep, deep breath, then released it, slowly.

“Lead the way.”

The commander's eyes met the thief's, and he smiled back — It was a tired, honest smile. 

“...I think, deep down... What the both of us want, or, well, need, is... closure .

He pulled his hand towards him, bringing Blight close to himself and looking at the crowd.

“I take it you know your way around dances?” He laughed, seemingly feeling lighter.

The burglar shrugged, despite still feeling his cheeks a bit warm. He had never slow danced, no, especially with someone else.

“I'm a fast learner.”

“So it would seem.”

Miles teased, leading the other man further into the ballroom.

“Well, in that case…”

The knight held his hand on his own, placing it on his shoulder and interlocking fingers with the other. He hesitated to put his hand on Phoenix's waist, the feeling of his bare skin making his cheeks flush slightly.

Phoenix shivered slightly under his touch, expecting cold, but finding warmth instead — both where the knight's hand touched, and his face.

His usually gloved hands were now bare, and Miles noticed they were actually a bit calloused, and had thin scars here and there.

He didn't say much — His own hands were not exactly what one could call soft , very calloused and definitely not delicate. He simply let out a gush of warm air through his nostrils, gently rubbing his thumb over the bandit's hand he held, as if admiring a textured art piece.

“... I suppose these are the fruits of our labors, hm?”

Phoenix looked away, not without noticing the similarities.

“What was it that you wanted to say?”

His response was a sigh, and the commander looked away too.

“...I'm... Not very good with words.”

He stopped mid sentence, trying to get to the point as delicately as possible.

“That day in the warehouse, you said you wanted to know what happened to me. I want to know what happened to you as well.”

He avoided eye contact, looking at the other people in the crowd.

“...And so I figured, it's only fair we answer each other. We don't owe any explanations. If you don't desire to talk about something, I won't force you to; but beware, as I'll only answer as much as you will.

Phoenix looked back at him when his gaze moved away too.

“What happened to me?” He chuckled, as if that was a silly question.

Miles' voice came out heavy, amidst a sigh.

“...We both changed a lot, Phoenix. I don't think I need to elaborate on that.”

His smile disappeared, and he was almost embarrassed for making light of it. Well, it wasn't an easy task to explain something so vague, when he didn't know exactly what Miles was asking of him. Plus... he wasn't the one who disappeared.

“I don't know what to tell you either, to be honest.”

He started, also looking around to see how the other couples were dancing. Then he cursed his brain for including himself in the definition of couples .

“For what reason does one steal? I think that has a pretty simple answer.”

“Point taken.”

Edgesword nodded. It was a simple answer, yet it served to soothe him down. Even if he was an outlaw, it didn't necessarily mean he was a bad person. It was easier to think this way than to think an old friend had thread a dark path in life. In the end, he wanted to believe in him, he really did. But it was hard when his position forced him to see things in black and white.

“Your turn.”

He looked back at the thief, following the tempo of the music and pulling him closer with the hand on his waist, chests pressed against each other and nose and lips practically glued to the man's ear as he whispered.

“Should be best for the both of us to keep our voices down.”

The thief's ears moved involuntarily, and he resisted the urge to pull away, but it was really difficult to think straight like this. 

Still, he tried to go back to that day in the warehouse, their second encounter, the one Phoenix had actually planned in order to get these answers, but in a situation where he could flee at any moment. 

A name came to mind, but upon recalling the reaction it caused, he preferred not bringing it up immediately.

“...You vanished.”

He said simply, knowing it wasn't really a question, following the knight's "advice" to speak quietly.

Silence on the other end.

It took a minute or two before Edgesword opened his mouth once more, a pained voice coming from him.

“...I could say I didn't have a choice, but... That would simply not be true.”

He sighed, warm air brushing against the hairs on Phoenix's neck and ears.

“... I was... lost. All I knew as truth was... there in a second, gone in the next... I didn't have where to run. But... After hearing what I did... I had a resolve. And... I followed it through. I thought that by becoming a knight, I could atone for my father's sins. Part of me still does.”

Phoenix listened intently, but that didn't answer his question completely. However, it expanded the picture he had, even if just a little.

That damned traitor.

The words echoed in his mind.

He didn't understand it. He had met Gregory Edgesword... he had seen how much he loved his son, and how much he loved him back. He had been nothing but kind, not only to his son's friend, but everyone he came in contact with, at least that he heard of.

That man was the reason Miles wanted to become a knight as a kid... he wanted to be like him. Phoenix couldn't understand those words at all.

He pursed his lips, taking a deep breath before asking it, as if doing it quickly would minimize the damage it could do.

“You said your father was a traitor. Why? ”

The commander smiled bitterly, turning his head slightly with the question, his lips brushing against the fur of the other man's ear.

“Well, that's not how the game's played, is it? It's my turn to ask.”

He pulled away slightly, just enough so he could look at him in the eyes.

“Where were you? Because you most certainly weren't here , or else our paths would've collided long ago.”

Phoenix cursed mentally, both at himself and the knight, for treating it like a game.

He followed the man's steps carefully, not focusing enough on the dance to get the gist as quickly as he expected.

“Foster care... They sent me to a home with some other boys. Next to a small village. No one there ever adopted any of us.”

“Sorry to hear.”

Though it was a standard answer, it did seem quite genuine. Miles momentarily focused on his movements and on guiding the burglar, signaling with the hand on his waist that they were to make a spin. He raised the hand with their interlocked fingers, giving him the cue.

Phoenix picked up on it, twirling and ending up in a "hug", with the knight behind him and their arms forming an "x" over his chest.

It took a few moments for Miles to speak again, as he was focused on the dance steps. The feeling of the bandit's body against his calmed him down, at least enough so that he could answer his previous question.

“I take it you're keeping that question, this round?”

Phoenix hesitated for a moment, both distracted by the change in position and not yet sure if it was a good idea to ask that, but he nodded anyway, dark blue spiky hair brushing against Edgesword's face.

The knight swallowed the little left of saliva he had in his mouth, taking a deep, long breath.

“Are you aware of why he died…?”

“No?...”

Phoenix replied, the question making him even more curious, if it was something Miles expected him to know. Most people knew his father... did that mean the cause of his death was widely known too? He couldn't recall hearing about it as a child. He assumed he had died in the fire Edgesword had mentioned.

More silence. The knight held his breath.

“Treason against the crown.”

He stood quiet, not emoting much. His voice was hard to read, but one thing was certain, he wasn't happy.

“Might this information suffice you?”

No, it didn't, but he felt he was pushing enough already, and even though he wanted to understand it, the knight had said it himself: neither of them owed any explanations, and if he wasn't gonna force Phoenix to talk, he certainly expected the same treatment.

“Y-yes…”

He stuttered after realizing he had been waiting for a reply, his heart racing with anxiousness as he reminded himself that he still had no way of escaping this man.

The commander sighed, thinking if he even had any more questions to ask the thief. It was strange, really: He found himself searching for subjects to come up with, just so he could talk some more with Blight. It was probably not the best idea to keep entertaining him, but still, it was hard not to, when he missed him so badly. 

Missed him.

The words echoed deep inside Miles' chore, making his cheeks warmer as he regained consciousness of their position. 

There was something strange, yet curious about this. 

They weren't strangers , but it almost felt like he was getting to know somebody new.

And he wanted to know more.

He could easily arrest him at this point, but still, part of him didn't even want to.

After a moment of silence, he opened his mouth to ask him a question, but that wasn't what came out of it.

“...I missed you.”

For a moment, Phoenix's nervousness seemed to simply vanish after hearing those three words. Or it was just that he was so surprised to hear it that it was like his heart skipped several beats and he forgot to breathe.

And for that moment, all he thought about wasn't how to get away, but about these words, which echoed in his mind, mirroring his own feelings.

I missed you. 

I missed you.

I missed you.

And for that long, long few seconds, he felt like he went back in time, to when that man, then a boy, used to be the best part of his life, to how much he wanted him to be there in countless moments of his life, to when he was just a small, frail, sensitive child, crying about everything.

He wasn't a child anymore. He wasn't that same crybaby.

But he was very thankful that Miles couldn't see his face from this angle, while he was trying so hard not to burst into tears.

He took a shaky breath to stabilize himself, then another one, and another, his body unintentionally relaxing against the other's chest.

“...I missed you too…”

And just like that, Edgesword's arms tightened very lightly around Phoenix, turning the dance step into a warm embrace. He sighed in relief, relaxing as well.

They ended up staying like that for longer than other couples, though anything other than the bandit, himself, and their embrace wouldn't even cross the commander's mind. 

His mind was running, but his heart beat calmly. 

The feeling of their breathing regulating and pulse synchronizing was... nice.

He hadn't felt like that in so long, able to lower his guard to such degree he felt comfortable being vulnerable. Maybe it wasn't smart to be frank with his enemy, but what could he do, when he felt so at ease? Doubtlessly, it was the oddest of places he had ever been in. The one he was supposed to hate above all, was the one he connected to the most, and made him feel the safest. He didn't want to let him go. He wondered if he felt the same.

And when they were like that, wrapped in each other's arms... It felt so right . How could he truly hate someone like that? Someone warm, familiar. The single remnant of each other's past. The fraction of what they used to be. Their everything, before they lost it all. 

Miles took a deep breath, holding back tears of his own. 

He missed him. A lot.

More than he imagined he did.

Deep down, he wished for the night to never end, just so he could stay like this. 

But he knew it couldn't.

So instead, he wished to make the most out of it.

He lowered his face, resting his nose on the crook of Phoenix's neck. His cheeks blushed as he smiled warmly, his baritone breaking as he whispered to him amidst a gentle, weak chuckle. 

“Pfsht... You should be considered the most dangerous criminal of all, making my job such a herculean task just by existing.”

Phoenix could feel his face flushing again as he tried to keep his breathing controlled enough to speak without evidencing his enormous impulse to cry, and while he succeeded in swallowing his tears, his voice wasn't completely devoid of proof , cracking slightly when he spoke.

“Not anymore, is it?... You won.”

His tone was sad, but he didn't feel as desperate.

Maybe that was it. There was no reason to even try, not when he had been caught already, and in a way he never expected to. Maybe it was better like this. 

Jail didn't sound as horrible when the one who was supposed to bring him there made him feel like this

He let out a low, weak chuckle.

What a dramatic ending.

Chapter Text

...Except it wasn't.

The knight lifted his head, noses almost brushing as he did so.

“I'm not arresting you here.”

He muttered, fighting the urge to cup his face.

“I'm a knight. Not a guard. This isn't my ground to execute the law. Even if I wanted to, as long as we're here, I can't. And as long as I'm here, you can't steal either, seeing as I might not be able to arrest you, but I can warn the guards. It's a compromise.

A teasing smile made its way back to his lips.

“The way I see it, we make an exception for now. For as long as we're here, I'm not Commander Miles Edgesword, and you are not Phoenix Blight, the bandit.

His eyes fell into the other man's lips for a brisk moment, only to focus again in his eyes and feel his face warming up even more.

“May we call it a deal?”

Phoenix chortled once more, a bit relieved to hear the playful tone coming from the knight this time, despite his predicament.

It was conflicting, to say the least. He couldn't explain what was it that he was feeling. On one side, disappointment, frustration, worry. On the other... relief, acceptance... and even joy.

He couldn't deny the fact that he was scared. Scared for himself, and scared for the girl to which he promised he wouldn't get caught. But he knew that day would come.

Maybe those were the best circumstances for it to happen, resolving his unfinished business with his former best friend — or at least taking the first step in that direction.

And then... he also didn't fail to notice that look.

Phoenix was no stranger to the habit of flirting to get his way. But no other had ever been able to make him blush like that, becoming flustered to the point of dropping the act.

It was undeniable that Edgesword was... rather attractive. He had that opinion before already, but seeing him with no armor was definitely a pleasant surprise.

He didn't know exactly how to feel about it. At least not now.

As Miles waited for a response, the song came to an end.

Despite the sea of questions and feelings piling on his brain, Phoenix smiled, able to find the confidence again to match his attitude.

“Do I even have to answer? You're already doing a pretty good job keeping me restrained.

The mention of their pose made the commander remember they were supposed to be dancing, and upon looking around and finding themselves to be the only pair standing like that, he blushed thoroughly, spinning the burglar back to his previous position.

“It didn't seem to bother you one bit.”

He teased, smirking though his face was tinted. The new melody wasn't fit for slow dancing - it was a bit faster, had a more defined rhythm with some bells and drums, and all around a more intense and heated atmosphere.

The thief was in the same state, but it was easier to hide it — at least he hoped it was harder to see. Cheeks warm, but a smile that showed on his eyes.

“Have you seen what I'm wearing? It doesn't exactly help in keeping you warm. I'm cold.”

He dramatically hugged himself, rubbing his own arms.

Before Miles could answer, however, a man approached the both of them, and Phoenix fell silent, as to not have his cover clown by his voice. His heart beat faster once again, wondering if he had been discovered, but the man took a look at Miles first then Phoenix... and smiled.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, but would you mind if I 'borrow' your partner here for a while?" he asked with a chuckle, addressing the knight.

Edgesword looked back at the gentleman, offended and puzzled at the same time.

“Pardon me, mind if you what?”

He glared coldly at the nobleman, holding Phoenix's hand as he did so.

The man seemed equally confused at the reaction, and Phoenix simply looked at Miles, not daring to utter a word in front of him.

"Well, the song ended... I was just asking a question."

He looked at Phoenix now.

"What do you say, miss?"

The thief tried not to laugh at that, resisting the urge to correct him. He simply shook his head no, pretending to be mute.

As the man walked away, the knight squinted at him, watching him disappear into the crowd.

“...Borrow someone? I swear, the nerve of some people…”

He muttered, only then looking back at Phoenix.

“Sorry, uhm... Where were we, again?”

The thief was looking at him already, and started laughing when they made eye contact.

“Ha... that's cute.”

He said after stopping.

Mumbling something underneath his breath, the knight averted his gaze, most clearly embarrassed by the comment.

“I'm not ‘cute’.”

He let out another short chuckle.

“Well, I didn't say you were, but I'm not gonna deny it either.”

The comment earned another scoff, and the commander's eyes darted from the burglar to the other side of the ballroom. He didn't answer anything, but his fingers caressed the palm of the other man's hand. His expression lightened, a gentle smile making its appearance on his rose-toned face.

“...I missed this as well.”

“This?”

He repeated, still with that tone and smile, but equally flushed.

Miles stepped forward, approaching Phoenix again. He looked down at their hands, then at the man across from him.

“...I've missed holding your hands.”

His voice wasn't teasing, but soft and genuine; not unlike his gaze; which practically caressed Blight just by making eye contact with him.

Well, not so equally flushed, if Phoenix only felt his face grow even hotter at that.

He was definitely not prepared to deal with this kind of response.

And because of that, he also didn't know how to respond himself.

There was a short pause, before he smiled again and dared to look back at Edgesword.

“Well... if we're not switching up, I'm assuming that's a yes for a second dance?”

His response was a warm chuckle. Miles pulled him closer by the hand he held, planting another light peck on it and cupping his face with the other, barely two feet away as he whispered back to him, teasing smile back in its place.

“Do you need an answer?”

Phoenix looked away, producing a barely audible sound that wasn't even a mutter. He stepped back to increase the distance between them, moving his feet and hips to the rhythm, this time not caring so much about mimicking the other people in the ballroom. Even then, he looked around to shift his focus from the knight, even noticing the same man from before approaching some other girl to invite to the dance.

The commander lowered his hand from the thief's face, looking away and losing his composure at his reaction, seemingly worried.

“Pardon me, was that too much?”

He looked back at the man's face, letting out a small puff of air.

“Don't worry about it.”

He said, now pulling Miles as if to guide his steps instead.

Edgesword looked down at their feet, then back at Phoenix. His face flushed more, and it was visible now he wasn't exactly the world's greatest dancer - his movements felt robotic and stiff, no matter how fluid the melody was. And as the burglar took on the guiding role, the knight seemed to get even more flustered, though not opposed to the act.

Phoenix didn't seem to mind it one bit. In fact, he found it a little endearing. Especially considering his reaction with the change in the dance style. Now this was something Phoenix was more used to. Though dancing with someone else was still something new.

Less than an hour ago, he was hating the fact he would have to dance to stay undercover. But now, he was... actually not hating it. Even though he was usually pretty self conscious about it. It was less about his ability and more about having people looking at him.

Well, Miles was looking, but he wasn't as embarrassed about it.

He had plenty of things on his mind to think about that. And... maybe he was enjoying it, for now.

“I take it you don't have any more questions?”

Caught off guard, Miles yet again had been distracted by his partner's movements. His eyes darted from the robber's collarbones to his face, his own heating up immensely as he closed his eyes and looked away.

“I-I, uhm…”

He swallowed, trying to compose himself.

Although tonight wasn't his first encounter with the thief, it was the first time he actually managed to take a better look at him; and the sight of his freckled tanned skin, so contrasting with his colorful eyes and dark hair was... *Captivating.* It was hard to keep his eyes away from him, when he felt so drawn to that man. As much as the knight would never admit it, he couldn't pretend he didn't feel attracted to the burglar, and as such, he couldn't help but admire his beauty. There was something so mesmerizing about his half lidded eyes that it simply kept him captive and hypnotized him, reducing him to this mess of a man, flushed and abashed by his own antics.

He risked looking back at Phoenix, finally confident enough at his footwork to not be constantly watching his own feet.

“I don't, not that I recall. Do you?”

Phoenix resisted the urge to laugh at the other man's reactions after acting so straightforward himself just moments ago.

“I don't know... Maybe what they've been giving you in those quarters? You used to be my size.”

He chuckled, squeezing his bicep lightly.

The muscle he squeezed tensed up, along with the commander's pectoral, neck, back and chore; his flexed shoulder blades making his posture straighter as he did so. The fabric of his tight fitting elven waistcoat tensed with the effort, marking well his waist and chest. The man smiled, appearing to take pride in the subject of muscle gain.

“Plenty of protein, mostly pork or chicken meat. It is very important to maintain a constant routine of training with increased repetition or weight lifting, or else you won't see a change any time soon. Carbohydrates such as rice and bread are also an important nutritional basis and shall not be ignored, for it is what provides energy for our bodies to burn. Least but not least, fruits and vegetables are of great importance to create a stable diet that along with exercise, will provide you with results.”

The thief stared at him in silence for a while, very clearly regretting the joke question.

“I wouldn't know. Not like I can be very picky with food, usually.”

Miles' chest deflated, and he frowned, ears drooping along with it.

“Ah, uhm... I'm sorry.”

Phoenix chuckled again, not very convincingly.

“Well, there's the difference I guess. You learned to battle and... I learned to run from people like you.”

As he said that, the other man opened his mouth, but nothing came out. It was true. Bitter, but true regardless.

“...You didn't have much of a choice, did you...?”

He sighed.

“I'm... truly sorry things have come to this.”

Phoenix shrugged. He couldn't say he didn't care. After all, he was the one who changed the topic suddenly. But he didn't exactly want to, it was only natural for him to drop self deprecating jokes from time to time. They usually earned him a punch on the arm from Maya, and then he'd laugh about it. But of course it wouldn't be the same with Miles.

“Hey, it's not like it's your fault.”

His tone softened.

“Sorry, that was uncalled for. But, well, you did have quite the growth spurt too.”

The sudden softening of his tone made something, somewhere inside Edgesword melt a little. It made him flustered, unable to even put on a teasing act.

He chuckled sheepishly, looking away and feeling his cheeks warming up slightly.

“...I suppose I did, yes.”

A brief moment of silence between them ensued. It was... oddly comforting.

“...I've missed spending time with you.”

Phoenix let out some air through his nose in an almost soundless laugh, his expression also softening. It was hard to keep up that certain "barrier" of sarcasm and flirtatiousness he had been using to avoid being too emotional when he had also been missing him so much.

His smile faltered though, as he stared blankly over the knight's shoulder.

“Best to make the most of this night then, considering it'll be some time till I'm out again, huh.”

Edgesword raised an eyebrow, visibly puzzled. He turned to look behind them, trying to understand what was it the thief was referring to.

“Hm...?”

Phoenix looked back at him as if it was obvious.

“Well, I'm going to jail eventually, am I not? Not like you can have an elaborate hangout behind bars.”

Once again, the knight shrunk a little more.

The more they talked, the less he wanted to arrest Phoenix.

But he had to.

He needed to.

“...Pfft.”

Miles let out a bitter chuckle, his melancholic gaze set elsewhere, somewhere beyond any physical object.

“Usually, the more two people destined to battle interact, the more their resolve settles and anger boils.”

He fell silent again, an indecipherable expression on his face.

“It's quite pathetic, isn't it?... The more we interact, the less I feel certain about myself. The more we talk, the less I dislike you.”

Another pause, this one slightly longer than the last.

He blinked, setting his gaze back at the thief with a blank semblance as he resumed talking, his voice now more clearly bitter.

“...I never truly hated you.”

The thief didn't know how to respond. His words comforted him, but his tone didn't. He couldn't help feeling his heart clench.

It was his fault, after all. He knew Miles had a duty. Had he not become what he was... they would eventually meet again, under better circumstances.

He did have a choice, didn't he? A path to follow that he could have turned back at any point. But he didn't.

Because it was easier.

Phoenix subconsciously gripped the fabric on Edgesword's shoulder.

“That's... good to know.”

Miles sighed, the blank expression being replaced by a saddened smile.

“You... meant the world to me.”

He stopped halfway through the sentence, a knot tying in his throat as he spoke and held back the urge to cry.

“...And part of me feels you still do.”

He took another pause, yet again bottling up his feelings for the man before him, but the frustration was clear in his voice.

“I don't want to arrest you.”

The thief stopped briefly. It wasn't like it was a surprise, but still...

It was him who didn't have a choice. He couldn't just let a criminal get away. Yet the rogue toyed with him constantly.

It was his fault they were in this stalemate.

His heart started beating faster again. Not out of embarrassment, but in a panic.

He really only had two choices. Coming with him tonight... or moving.

Again.

“...I understand.”

He replied, a bit distracted.

Still silence.

Miles took off his hand from Phoenix's waist, as well as let go of his hand to wrap his arms around the thief.

He missed this.

He missed this very badly.

After a few more seconds of nothing but the sound of their breathing, movements and music, the commander opened his mouth again.

“...I think, deep down... what I wanted with this truce was to get a chance to know you again.”

The coldness in his tone was replaced by regret and sadness.

“To have an idea of what life would've been like if none of this had ever happened.”

He took a while longer in the embrace, only to lift his face from the crook of Phoenix's neck and cup the man's jaw, a pained look in his eyes.

“...If we were simply two people whose destinies didn't rely solely on each other's ultimate downfall.”

He moved slightly closer, touching foreheads. The rough skin of his hand caressed Blight's cheek as delicately as possible, almost as light as a feather as his thumb grazed his cheek, thunderstorm irises meeting brown and blue with utmost sincerity in their gaze.

“To experiment what we could've been had we not threaded the paths we did, and to know if you felt the same as I did.”

He smiled, weakly.

“You are still as wonderful as the day I left you.”

The thief's eyes widened. He was avoiding that. Even though he wanted to, he couldn't.

Stop it.

Phoenix pleaded, but only mentally. His brain wanted to get away, but his body disobeyed, arms hesitantly moving to the other's back.

Stop talking...

His teeth clenched, his eyes squeezed shut, and his chest felt tight too.

Shut up... Shut the hell up…

His face found the commander's shoulder instead, his body trembling, just like his lip.

It didn't matter how much he tried to hold it back before. How much he tried to keep it cool, to keep a safe distance.

He sobbed. Once, twice. Wetting the man's clothes, but not caring about it. He deserved it. He deserved it for making Phoenix vulnerable.

“Dammit, Edgesword…”

No response.

The man let out a shaky breath, a tear dropping on the bare skin of Phoenix's shoulder.

Miles' chest quivered, the hand he used to cup the thief's face now lightly and hesitantly rubbed his back.

Before he could tell, not just one tear had rolled down, but plenty. They were silent, and the feeling of the ever tightening knot on the knight's throat was suffocating.

He moved his own face to the crook of Blight's neck, tightening the hug as he did.

There were no more words from Phoenix either, the only sound coming from him being soft, muffled sobbing as he tried not to make too much noise.

He hated crying. He always felt stupid when he did.

He could count how many times he had cried in front of Maya with just one hand.

Not that he didn't trust her. It just... seemed unnecessary. Crying never did him any good.

...Or did it?

He could remember, years ago, when he started bawling because he had lost a toy in the woods while playing with the same man he was hugging now.

He could remember how he hugged him just the same, how he looked him in the eyes and promised to find it for him, as he wiped his tears away.

How he cried when they first met, and Miles took him home to take care of his scraped knee.

How he cried and cried, and every time the boy was there to comfort him.

But it couldn't be like that forever.

Other boys weren't so kind.

And he learned he couldn't just cry all his life and expect people to be understanding, to gently wipe his cheeks and tell him it'd all be okay.

Because it wouldn't.

And he understood that little boy was doing too much for him. He had to grow up, toughen up.

But now, all he wanted was to stay like this forever.

To feel like he was safe and cared for again.

It was selfish. He knew it.

It was his fault. And there he was, wanting it back anyway.

The commander didn't seem to mind the long pause. If anything, he found the silence soothing.

Just as hesitantly as he started rubbing on the other man's back, he moved his other hand to the back of his head, stroking his hair. Gods, what a long time had it been ever since he had done that.

Yet, he still remembered it.

He remembered playing in the sunflower fields together, basking in the summer sunshine as they ran along.

He remembered receiving a handcrafted coin purse from Phoenix on his birthday, and trying to do the same for him on his, only to fumble his innumerable attempts at not breaking the needles.

He remembered when they tried to go fishing together, but felt sorry for the fish and had to ask for Gregory's help.

He remembered trying to teach Phoenix how to use a halberd, but missing the point completely as they focused on watching a snail in his backyard instead.

He remembered the countless nights he had stayed over at his old home, and they slept together.

He remembered how it felt to touch his hair and think to himself how beautiful it looked, just like tonight.

He remembered seeing his smile and feeling his heart skip a beat.

He remembered, and never in his life had he wanted so badly to go back to the past, when things were simpler, when blissful ignorance still blindfolded them of their destiny.

Never before had he ever wished so much he could go back to being a child, too busy thinking about what flowers to gift his friend to even think about tomorrow.

To make the clock's hands run backwards, back to when they were still dumb little children running through the forest, and swore to be friends forever.

He inhaled shakily, finally breaking the silence.

“...I wish I could go back in time, so I could give you a proper goodbye. I... I never stopped caring for you.”

“S-shut it... don't make me... punch you…”

Phoenix stuttered, his voice unsteady. He didn't want to, but he was feeling a lot of things at once, too much for him to process properly without wanting to hit, squeeze or bite something. But all he did was grip his shirt tighter.

Guilt. Nostalgia. Joy. Sadness. Anger. Resentment. Relief. Fear. Acceptance.

It didn't make sense. None of it made sense.

He was angry at himself. And at Miles, for making him cry, for reminding him he was weak. For making him feel like he was wanted again, like he wasn't who he was.

There was no easy answer for him. He wanted to bask in his warmth and his words of comfort. But it was only temporary.

Because Miles was right before.

He didn't know him anymore.

“Running from you was easier than this…”

Just as he asked him to, the knight fell silent — or, at least, he did until that last sentence.

He smiled, but it didn't come across as genuine contentment.

“I suppose we have a tendency of making each other's jobs as hard as possible.”

Phoenix didn't smile. He only sobbed more, while still trying not to be too noisy.

But... he wrapped his arms around the man properly, tightening the hug on his side.

“You might not hate me... but I sure as hell will if you make me do this again…”

The other man raised his head, his tears already dried as he gently moved up the hand that played with the thief's hair, now caressing his scalp.

Miles pressed the side of his nose to Phoenix's temple, whispering to him as he rubbed his back.

“I'm sorry.”

The thief took a deep breath and let out a long sigh, trying to stop focusing on every single thought he was having.

Instead, he focused on the physicality.

His hands on his hair and back. His chest pressed against Phoenix's. The warmth of his embrace. His cologne. The smoothness of the fabric of his clothes.

...His own tails moving subtly from side to side, as if deliberately.

“Don't be.”

A gentle smile appeared on the gray haired man's face, and he basked on the comfortable silence for a while, waiting for the other man to calm down a bit more.

“... Am I to assume you don't hate me, either...?”

“Did I ever give you that impression?...” The thief asked back, sniffling.

A light chuckle came from above, and its owner twirled a strand of Phoenix's hair with his finger.

"Well, you did threaten to punch me."

He shook his head, but it was more like nuzzling.

“But I didn't…”

He sighed.

“I hate crying…”

The commander wiped what he could of Blight's tears in this angle, caressing his cheeks as he did so.

“Is that so?”

He didn't reply right away. His eyes remained closed, as if he didn't want to look at the knight while he was still like this.

“…I never hated you... I didn't think I even needed to say this…”

Although he had already dried Phoenix's tears, Miles remained caressing his cheek, his own starting to tint a little as he realized what he was looking for wasn't to confront the burglar, but rather, to feel closer to him.

His usual stone cold demeanor had completely dissolved, replaced by a warm feeling in his chest, a comfort like no other he had experienced in heavens know how long.

...This... Wasn't so bad, was it...?

“...I... thought my actions might have spoken otherwise. I… I've never intended to harm you, either.”

He sighed, unknowingly smiling softly at the bandit, admiring what he could view of him.

“It's quite contradicting, but... I really do care for you, still.”

Another heavy sigh left Phoenix's lips, but no more tears came out. He rested his head properly on Edgesword's shoulder, tails wrapping around the both of them as if in a secondary hug.

He wasn't dancing anymore, just swaying slightly along with Miles as he calmed down.

“...I hoped you would. I just... thought it'd take some time. And effort.”

As he felt the thief's tails embracing him, the smile on the other man's face widened slightly, and he started moving the tip of his own.

“I... I have a proposal to make, if you'd like to hear it.”

Once again, the thief didn't answer, but he did dare to pull away enough to look him in the eyes. His expression was curious, but cautious.

Even with his body language and the fact he just cried on his shoulder, it was clear that Phoenix was still keeping his guard up. It was hard to realize he even was before that day.

“I…”

The commander hesitated.

“I want to see more of you.”

It didn't take long for him to notice the misphrasing, blushing fiercely at the mistake and promptly starting to stutter.

“I-I mean-! I, erhm. I meant to say I want to see you more.”

He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his posture.

“And... I wanted to strike a deal, if you're on board with it.”

The mistake got a little laugh from the criminal, his eyelids lowering as if he was ready to tease the knight about it, but he let it slide, focusing on the last part instead.

“A deal?”

Miles huffed, not sure if he was happy, angry or embarrassed to hear the other man laughing. He adjusted his waistcoat, trying to get himself together.

“...Yes.”

He ran a hand through his hair, a strand coming loose with the act.

“You see, as I mentioned, I don't want to arrest you. But I'm quite sure the both of us know it is my job to do so. And that's precisely where the loophole I intend to use lies.”

He stopped to make sure the thief followed. He was watching him intently, but quiet.

“I'm a knight with a target, as long as I am on duty. Which means, when I am not, your arrest is none of my business. That is why… I suggest we make use of this free time.”

He moved the hand he played with his hair to his jaw, cupping his face with both his hands.

"I understand you do things out of necessity. That is why I feel comfortable to say, as I did, that I want to know you again."

His gaze softened, earnest and most clearly honest. He was being vulnerable, and though it was scary, he hoped it would prove itself to be worth it.

“...I want to know my best friend again.”

The expression on the shorter man's face changed as quickly as it did just a moment ago, colorful eyes wide in surprise, still shining with the moisture provided by his tears.

“...You... you mean you're... not taking me to jail after all this?...”

His response was a wide smile, warm yet humorous.

“I don't intend to, but in case we run into more knights, I'll have to at the very least pretend I will. And, unfortunately for me, it would seem I forgot to tie my shoelaces tonight.”

He chuckled, trusting the plunderer to catch the cue.

Phoenix laughed too. Not at the suggestion, it wasn't even a laugh of someone who found something funny.

The little bit of water left on his eyes pooled up until it rolled down in two last tears.

The tension in his body subsided, and his head dropped to the other man's shoulder again, his own feeling much lighter.

It was like Miles could hear said defenses shattering behind the thief's featherlight giggling.

He slowly stopped, until he felt limp in Miles' arms, his tails unwrapping and starting to wag again, now more noticeably.

It took him a moment to speak again.

“You do know you're just making things harder for yourself…”

He asked, but it wasn't a question at all.

“Maybe so, but you're worth it.”

Edgesword promptly answered. In fact, it was maybe a little bit too fast, almost like he was already thinking that before Phoenix said anything.

As sweet as the declaration was, it received a response Miles probably wasn't expecting for: a punch.

Not that it was hard, as it definitely didn't have the intent to hurt, and didn't, but a punch nonetheless, directed to his arm.

He seemed confused, yet somehow, entertained.

“...Well, I suppose you decided to follow through with your words, after all.”

The thief nodded, hair brushing against his face again.

“You're doing it again.”

He said simply, but his arms wrapped around his neck once more, and his voice had no anger at all.

That earned him a chuckle, and the commander's hands once again found their way to his hair and cheek.

“Better?”

He let out a small groan, his face warm to the touch under the veil.

“No, you're ruining my tough guy persona.”

“Tough guy?”

He chuckled lightly, stroking his hair.

“I'm not sure I've ever perceived you as such. If anything, I'd say you're adorable as you are right now.”

He chuckled some more, taking the opportunity to take his revenge on the bandit.

That earned him a second weak punch, now to his chest.

“Stupid…”

He muttered, though his tails only wagged faster.

“...I want to. To see you.”

Instead of ignoring the punch this time, however, Edgesword let go of the thief's hair, holding his fist and opening his hand, directing it to his face and cupping his jaw.

“I'll look forward to it.”

Phoenix swallowed his saliva, trying to keep his composure as his hand touched the other man's face.

Once again, it seemed like they missed the timing of the song, and the rhythm was different already. Phoenix didn't care to follow, though.

He looked back at Miles with a small smile, his hand still on his jaw, daring to move his fingers a little.

“I wanted my best friend back too.”

A soft sigh left the knight's lips, his smile turning warm and witless. It was very clear the man was rendered completely defenseless from Blight's advances, and he blinked slowly, not bothering to fake hostility.

The touch from the criminal felt like magic, sending a thrill down his spine that resulted in him laughing weakly as he pressed his nose and lips against his palm, planting a small kiss in its center. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and gentle, unlike anything the plunderer had heard coming from Miles before. It came out in a meek whisper, like a breeze caressed the furs of his ears and antennae.

“Blue looks... very good on you.”

A thrill ran down Phoenix's spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his ears move. He shook his head to get rid of it, but the blushing on his cheeks remained.

“Ha... you... look good too. In general, I mean…”

Edgesword chuckled again, basking in the comfort of the other man's touch, his face turning warmer each passing second as he felt the vibration of Blight's chest against his, a result of his breathing and speaking, both of which sounded like heaven to him at the moment.

He not-so-discreetly melted, slowly rubbing his finger against the burglar's cheek as he felt his heart rate accelerating with the comment.

“...Thank you.”

He moved to leave a delicate kiss on the opposite cheekbone from the one he caressed, landing it just under the support of his veil and whispering to him in the same place, nose pressed gently against his skin.

“You look as stunning as always.”

All Phoenix could do as a response was chuckle, but it was more of a nervous laugh than anything, face getting hotter as he wondered if that was flirting or not. In a way, it seemed pretty obvious.

On the other... he really did not want to presume, especially when all both had suggested was friendship.

And that was what he wanted, too.

It was hard to tell if he was still teasing, or, if it was genuine affection, if it could still be classified as platonic.

He really hoped it was.

Because he didn't think he could deal with it if it wasn't.

He pulled away, slowly and gently, so as to not cause any questions.

“You know, I'm... still pretty hungry.”

“Oh, uhm.”

Miles stepped back, letting go of the thief's cheek and hand, his face much less flushed than the other man's, seemingly not aware of the connotations of his actions.

“Would you like to grab another plate?”

“I think I'll have to, I did leave mine behind.”

He chuckled again, not looking him the knight in the eyes, hands messing with the buttons of his pouches.

Seeing the man fiddling with his buttons, the commander offered him a hand, smiling complacently at him, in silence.

Phoenix looked at his hand, and then at him again. He smiled back, the way his eyes moved making it visible even behind the fabric, and he accepted it, walking back towards the table with his friend.

Chapter Text

. . .


Francis cleared his throat, a proud smile stamped on his face as he bowed at the fortune teller, her hand in his.

“Have you ever partakened in slow dancing before, Ms. Fae?”

She chuckled.

“Not at all. It can't be too hard though, can it?”

She questioned with a confident, rather playful smile.

He raised his back again, and though his expression was slightly arrogant, it was undeniable he looked excited to be doing this.

“First, you place your left hand on my shoulder, and I place mine on your waist. May I?”

He asked before assuming his position, face tinting ever so slightly.

The seer nodded with another short laugh, already getting in position as well.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

She said gesturing to the other guests.

He looked around, the blush in his cheeks intensifying as he understood the woman's point.

“A-at any rate, after assuming our positions, all that's left is for you to follow my lead.”

It didn't seem like she was mad about being taught it, though. In fact, she seemed pretty excited herself.

She nodded again, then intertwined her fingers with his.

“Alright. I'm ready.”

Her nod and eager demeanor caused the excitement on the knight's behalf to become even more evident, and his smile widened as he took the first steps, his movements as fluid and graceful as a feather.

Maya followed, definitely not as skilled. She didn't look completely ignorant to how it worked, but she seemed to be paying extra attention to her steps.

As the rhythm continued and they got used to it, Francis raised his arm to spin the girl, but noticed halfway through the dance step that she couldn't go through his arms, at least not without lowering herself. This resulted in him muttering something as he looked away, blushing very clearly at the miscalculation on his part.

The girl didn't seem to mind at all, though she did notice and laughed about it. But not at him.

She found it funny, yes, but she was having fun, and honestly found it cute that he tried. So, why not follow anyway?

Somehow, the laughter made him blush even more. The seer seemed so carefree, so light. It was hard not to laugh along when she smiled like that, even for someone as strict and serious as Francis. He barely resisted the urge, chuckling at the scene.

“Pfft… Enjoying your night?”

She tittered back, not as careful with her movements now.

“Verily. Never been to a rich people's party, but I could get used to it.”

He hummed pensively, holding the fortune teller in his arms and lifting her in the air in a single suave movement.

“Huh... I've... never been one for balls.”

Maya, who got a bit red and lost her cheeky smile at the step, simply stared at him when he said that...

And then she started laughing.

At first she tried to hold it, but it didn't take long for her to burst into laughter, so much that she brought a hand to cover her nose and mouth so as to not make so much noise.

The man seemed confused, not understanding the reason for her hysteria.

“Is something wrong, Miss Fae?”

His confusion, however, only served to make her laugh even more. 

It took a few moments for her to regain her composure, catching her breath before placing her hand back on his shoulder.

“Hah... sorry, it's just…”

She giggled, again.

“You... you phrased it funny, I couldn't resist.”

“Phrased it... funny?”

He repeated the line in his mind, yet didn't quite understand the double meaning of the words.

“...Do you find balls funny, Maya Fae?”

The girl immediately snorted and let out a rather high pitched, short laugh.

“I-I think it's better if you don't repeat it…”

She said, trying not to laugh again, lightly tapping his shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow, very confused at the seer's antics.

“Uhm... Sure.”

She let out another weak chuckle, cheeks a little red too.

“Sorry, got a little carried away. Well... Are you having fun?"

Fun.

He wasn't supposed to be having fun at the job, was he?

...But it was fun.

Maybe not the most responsible choice he had ever made, but a fun one regardless.

He chuckled inwardly, a small smile coming back to his lips, this time, devoid of arrogance.

“Fun, huh... I guess I am.”

She smiled back, seemingly gaining her composure back.

“So... Mr. Don Karma, was it? You know my job, but what exactly do you do?”

He seemed puzzled at her question. Did she really not know? How could it be? Just about anyone could tell what was a Don Karma's occupation. It was practically a family tradition, at this point. 

He opened and closed his mouth, deciding to answer her question as succinctly as possible.

“I am a knight. A member of the first class, at that.”

As impressive as it was, she couldn't help but chuckle a little at his subtle bragging.

Even then, she was a little taken aback. Not that she herself did anything wrong, but... it was a little weird to think she was essentially flirting with the authorities, if she could call it that.

Well, it wasn't like she'd be seeing the knight with any frequency, but still...

She took a moment to reply, but let out a teasing "oooh" at the revelation.

“I see. Kinda explains why you were so suspicious about how I earned my money... Well, I assure you, good sir, that I'm nothing but a humble, law abiding fortune teller.”

“I'd certainly hope so.” He answered, but the teasing didn't go unnoticed, making the red in his cheeks grow a little stronger. “...However... It's good to have the reassurance, regardless.”

“So is my word enough now?” She giggled mischievously. “Good to know.”

He smiled back, teasing her.

“Well, I don't suppose you have any way to prove your claims to me, is there?” He chuckled. “The only option I have is to trust you.”

He opened his arm, making the seer twirl out, then in again, his arms around her for a second and back to their initial position in the next.

The seer's cheeks got a little redder, but she seemed to be happy that the knight was joking around too, a little less serious than before.

“Is there anything else I should know about you, sir ?”

“That depends. is there anything more you'd like to know about me, Miss Fae? ”

He had that same smug smile on his face, now more teasing than proud. As the mood of the couples around them turned more intimate, the knight moved his hand to the fortune teller's back, extending their hands forward as he leaned down with her, barely changing the distance but lowering their angle, his arm supporting her weight.

The girl blinked her wide, violet eyes up at him, less smug looking than before, but determined to keep up her playful demeanor even if caught off guard.

“Maybe there is... Maybe that's my way of asking.”

His smile widened.

“Well, feel free to question me.”

She let out an airy chuckle, not looking directly at him as she thought.

“Well, what do you do besides locking up criminals?”

The question seemed to get the knight thinking, and he looked pensive as he returned with Maya to their initial position.

“Besides reinforcing the law, huh... Well, I enjoy fencing in my free time, amongst some other hobbies of mine.”

“Ohh.”

Her smile came back more confident once she was standing again, but her cheeks remained a bit flushed.

“I see. That's not very different from your job though, is it?”

Her response made him raise an eyebrow, not seeing a connection.

“How so?”

She chuckled at his expression.

“You know... Sword yielding and all?”

He shrugged.

“I suppose I can see the similarity, yes. But fencing relies much more in the gymnastics of combat. It does wonders to improve your body awareness.”

He smiled as he spoke, visibly passionate about the topic.

“It'd do you well to give it a try, Miss Fae. I might even consider giving you some personal classes, if you so desire.”

Maya exhaled through her nose in a small laugh, enjoying watching every one of the knight's reactions. 

“You wouldn't want to give me something to poke people with.”

Don chuckled, going back to teasing the seer.

“Fencing swords are blunt with a sphere on their tip. If you actually managed to put me in danger, I might as well surrender upon such prowess.”

Now she actually laughed, leaning closer.

“Are you insisting now?”

His eyes widened and he backed up slightly, face redder than it had been the whole night, revealing how surprisingly easy it was for the knight to get flustered. 

“W-well, it couldn't hurt to learn the basics of self defense!”

She snorted, her demeanor changing from borderline flirting to just playful again.

“I might consider it.”

She giggled, repeating his words.

Her response was him muttering some curses underneath his breath, the warmth in his cheeks not lessening whatsoever as he looked away, ears moving down and twitching once or twice.

“...And... What about you? What do you do in your free time, Maya Fae?”

Maya looked up, thinking.

“Let's see... I like stage plays, I watch them sometimes when there are public ones at the plaza. I cook sometimes when I can, I have a rock collection, oh, and there's this book series that someone gave away that I still need to find volume 4…”

She said, starting to trail off.

At the mention of reading, Francis' ears perked up, both confused and intrigued.

“Oh, so you're literate, I see. Which book series could it be that piqued your interest, pray tell?”

“Oh.”

She paused for a moment, but quickly went back to the topic.

“It's, like, a story about a hero who's a masked samurai, and he fights evil spirits and overlords who try to take over the kingdom and stuff. It's pretty cool.”

He raised an eyebrow, immediately recognizing the description.

“Don't tell me... It couldn't be Steel Samurai, Warrior of Neo Olde Myokyo, could it?”

While one moment ago she sounded a bit dismissive, she perked up as he mentioned the title, smiling brightly.

“You read it too?”

“That would be my little brother's favorite series. He talks endlessly about it, day and night.”

Don chuckled, smiling back at the seer.

“At this point, I might as well be a fan by association.”

“Oh, so you have a brother?”

She asked, clearly excited.

The knight seemed to find her amusement cute, and he fawned slightly, the coldness in his demeanor melting a little.

“I consider him that, yes. But we aren't blood related, we were simply raised together. Do you have siblings, Miss Fae?”

She looked away, her smile a little more contemplative.

“I have an older sister... But I haven't seen her in a while. And a brother... kind of. We're not blood related too... he's more of a close friend, but we told people we were siblings so much that it kinda stuck, I guess.”

As Maya talked, Don Karma moved his arm to wrap around her back, supporting it and using his other hand to hold her knee as he widened his stance, supporting all her weight with his arms.

“And you're the middle child? Pardon, but how old are you, if you wouldn't mind the question?... It feels like we've been talking for hours, but I barely know you.”

Maya got momentarily distracted with the dance, so focused on the conversation at first that she let out a little gasp when she was lifted.

“Oh, um, well, I just turned nineteen. My sister is almost thirty and my sort-of-brother is like twenty-four, or five.”

Her response seemed to surprise the man, who was preparing to spin with her.

“Ah, I see. It seems like we are all the same age, then. My brother is twenty-four and I myself am nineteen, as well.”

He huffed an intrigued contempt, noticing the similarities.

“How strange is it, huh...? We have so many things in common, yet so many other differences. What a truly odd twist of fate it was to have met you by chance.”

“How poetic.” She commented with a soft laugh. “I didn't think you'd be the kind of person to believe in ‘fate’.”

“I'm not.”

He answered, bluntly.

“Fate is to me but a web of strings of choices, chances and consequences. The concept of my existence being calculated and life scripted feels... Bleak. I... Don't like the idea of not being in control.”

His tone shifted to that of an introspection, eyes unfocused on the present.

Her expression softened as she watched his change too.

“Is that why you didn't want a reading?”

His eyes darted back at her, but he didn't answer.

His silence said enough as it is.

In return, she smiled.

“I'm not gonna judge. See, these things are... more complicated than we make it seem. Fortune tellers, I mean.” 

She looked around at the other masked people.

“I did learn some things about you, but they weren't super precise. If it were, I wouldn't be asking about what you do or like. While I'm not lying, you kind of have to be a bit vague so people can fill up the spaces themselves and understand what they need.”

There was a pause, and she looked down at him again. Her playful tone had shifted to a more serious, somewhat comforting one.

“I don't see a clear future either. It's not a straight path.”

“That's... Nice to hear.”

Fae's reassurance seemed to have relieved the man, and he sighed, his chest sinking at the last part of the sentence, the barely noticeable tension in his body now gone.

“I suppose some people enjoy the prospect of a certitude in life, but... I don't know. It doesn't sit right with me. I'd much rather believe fate doesn't play me for a fool.”

He stopped himself, attempting to change the tone of their conversation, his cheeks lightly tinting as he looked away.

“Say, it might be a foolish question, but... Can fortune tellers see their own futures? Does it happen involuntarily?”

“Oh, nah. But…”

She chuckled, noticing something.

“Are... Are you gonna keep holding me forever or?”

The little of red in Don's cheeks burned thoroughly, spreading everywhere in his face at her comment. For a second, he almost forgot how to properly function, trying to remember how the dance step went.

“T-this is much too soon for any big commitments such as this, Maya Fae!”

Maya laughed again, this time not really picking up on the reason for his flusteredness.

“Excuse me?”

Her response was an embarrassed complaint from the man, though it was barely audible or intelligible. He cleared his throat, still red faced and too stubborn to look back at her in the eyes.

“Hold on to me.”

The seer remained confused, but complied.

As the girl let herself be carried, Francis spun with her, carefully supporting her weight with the hand on her back.

“You may rely against my arm now. No worries, I can hold you just fine.”

“Ah, o-okay.”

She stuttered, a bit hesitant to let go, but trusting him enough to do so, despite holding for dear life just seconds ago.

The reaction earned a small chuckle from the knight, now daring to incline further on the fortune teller, the spinning and reliance on his arm causing the butterflies on her stomach to run wild. 

Don Karma held back his laughter, but it was clear he was enjoying his night, a genuine, honest smile on his face as he watched Maya slowly letting go of his shoulder.

She only let out a little squeal, too focused on the possibility of falling to speak. 

Only once the knight pulled her up again did she dare to breathe.

Her little squeal made Francis cave in, laughing as he lifted her, still gracefully slowing the twirl and ending it with putting her down once more, now holding both her hands over her shoulder as she crossed her forearms in front of her chest.

“I told you I could support you just fine.”

“I-I never doubted it, what makes you think I did?” She laughed nervously.

Don just chuckled, the very tip of his tails moving.

“You're not very good at lying, Miss Fae.”

Although her heart was beating a bit fast, the girl laughed again, now with more humor.

“And you're not very good at understanding sarcasm, are you?”

She poked his nose gently.

His skin was cold to the touch, but quickly warmed up with the contact. He laughed sheepishly, noticeably less tense.

“...Ah.”

She giggled and took a deep breath to recompose.

“Sorry, what did you ask again?”

“I asked you something?” He blinked twice, having completely forgotten what was the subject from just seconds ago.

The seer laughed, patting his shoulder while she tried to remember.

“Oh, yeah, if I can see my own future.”

“...Yes, that.” He smiled, putting on a confident act once more.

Maya smiled back."

“Well, anyway, no, not really. There is a specific way I can predict stuff, and it doesn't work on myself.”

She paused.

“Actually, it also doesn't work on other people like me.”

The man seemed intrigued at the response, clearly paying close attention to the fortune teller.

“Fascinating... So, not even your peers are able to give you readings?”

Maya nodded.

“And if someone claims they can, it's most probably a scammer. I don't know though, there may be someone who can, but I'm yet to find out. And I'm not really trying to.”

“Are you afraid of seeing your future?” He seemed surprised at the comment, tilting his head with curiosity.

She shrugged, but looked away.

“Eh. I'm not sure, I think sometimes it'd be nice to know what to expect, but... I don't know, seems kind of like cheating life somehow, you know?”

Her response was a hum in agreement, and the knight looked a little lost for a second, trying to think of something to comfort her with.

“I suppose it could be for the better. If we rely on the certainty of destiny, we risk taking things for granted and not living the present. The only time you ever have any agency in is the now.”

It didn't seem to do much, as she simply sighed  softly, taking a moment to reply.

“I guess so.”

The song finally came to an end as she answered, and she stepped back only to bow, and then went back to position. She smiled.

“But, hey, it also means I kinda have a built-in fake fortune teller detector. Not that it matters much, but you get some laughs out of it.”

He shrugged, chuckling a bit awkwardly.

“I suppose. Pardon me, I'm just... Not very used to comforting others.”

“Oh, don't worry about it, I'm not sad or anything.”

She chuckled.

“I'm just saying. It'd probably be pretty annoying to predict stuff all the time, like, how do you even see the present like that?”

“Doesn't that cause you migraines?”

He raised an eyebrow, sounding genuinely concerned. Another song started, quick and jolly, flutes singing with the tingling of harps as Francis picked up his pace, guiding Maya through different footsteps. 

Little did they know that while the both of them started another dance, the commander and his target were ending another.

. . .

Under the guise of a graceful dancer, no one would guess said target was no striking young lady, but a wanted thief, or that one of his pouches was stuffed to the brim with food as that was all he could "steal" from the party

At least that meant he probably wouldn't actually have to do something of the sort for some days, if that food lasted. And part of him felt bad knowing it would end soon.

Not for the food itself, but the prospect of having to do it again. It was hard to not feel guilty after his previous conversations with the knight.

But for now, he was trying to turn off his brain and pretend that it was much more distant than it actually was, and focus instead on the newfound connection — and his now full stomach. He wondered if it was too obvious with no fabric to cover it.

The dancing wasn't so bad, either. It had been a long time since the thought of slow dancing with someone crossed his mind, and back then, he used to imagine himself as the lead instead.

But it was... nice. Then again, they didn't exactly need to dance, but it certainly helped to fill in the silence that lingered for a while.

As nice as it was, his legs were starting to ache a bit. Which was funny. Did that alone really tire him more than running from the law? He chuckled to himself. Maybe it was his stomach again, asking for a break to digest.

“Are you tired?” He asked the other man, opting to do so instead of saying it was himself who needed a break.

Miles looked down at Phoenix, their arms crossed in front of the latter and the knight's chin on the thief's shoulder.

“Do you need a break?”

“You're just answering my question with another question.”

Phoenix chuckled, as if he wasn't the first to put the decision on the other.

At this point he had grown a bit less embarrassed at the proximity, his shoulders more relaxed in this pose than before. “Yeah, maybe I do.”

Edgesword smiled, glad the plunderer had chosen to be honest with him.

"I see. Follow me."

He raised his arm, twirling the man before leading him out of the crowd. Phoenix after and followed as asked, not without letting out a small snort at the gesture.

The man didn't seem to mind, leading Phoenix to a more secluded place, further inside the building. They passed through the central doors, walking into an empty winter garden where delicate flowers were their only company. Miles took a deep breath, relieved to finally find himself able to hear his own thoughts.

In the center of the round room with plants spreaded all throughout the wall, separated from the public by a glass panel that accompanied them, stood a lonesome sofa that beared no back or armrests. The knight took the spiky haired man with him as he sat down, sighing.

Phoenix looked around in awe, not only at the flowers, but the way he could see the starry sky even under that structure, and how it looked like it was painted on the roof.

He sighed too as he accompanied Miles, stretching out his legs and then reaching into his other pouch to take out his normal shirt, which he promptly put on to cover himself.

“So you were tired.” He commented, with a little smile.

“More or less.” The commander chuckled airily as he answered, refusing to admit it. “I'd say the physical effort was nowhere near as draining as the amount of people in the room.”

He crossed his legs, adjusting his mask to his face as he smirked.

“For how long, exactly, are you planning to keep that top?” He teased, not failing to notice he kept it underneath his regular clothes.

One of Phoenix's eyebrows went up as he looked at the man.

“You want me to take it off?”

“I-I did not just say that!”

He snapped, his face turning as red as a pepper.

“That's what I thought.”

The thief laughed, opening his arms in a "case closed" gesture.

“I will though, before I go. I mean, it's not like I can steal something right under your nose like that, now can I?”

“I sure hope so.” Miles scoffed, though his cheeks were still pinkish.

Blight chuckled again, closing the buttons of his shirt.

“Plus, I wasn't kidding earlier, you know. I am cold.”

Once he was done with those, he took off the veil too, placing it on his lap and taking a deep breath, his face now completely visible, including a small scar that cut through the side of his smirk.

At the mention of feeling cold, Miles stood up, starting to undo his own vest, revealing a tight fitting shirt with puffy sleeves underneath. 

He turned his head to see where the metal sound of the veil support came from, his eyes meeting Phoenix's scar instead.

“Have you injured yourself?”

It was Phoenix who got a bit red now when he caught Miles taking off his vest, but before he could make any sort of comment to ease his own embarrassment, he tilted his head confusedly at the question.

“Huh?”

He looked at his own hands and arms, wondering if he had some scratch or bruise he hadn't noticed. It wouldn't be new, he would regularly wake up with some, or end up with them in a chase.

“I don't think so?...”

Edgesword turned to look at him properly, squinting and leaning closer to inspect the thief's mouth.

“There appears to be a scar on your lip.”

Phoenix leaned back as he approached.

“Oh... That.” He laughed it off. “It's stupid. But it was also a long time ago, don't worry.”

“Are you sure you are okay?” The knight stepped back, raising an eyebrow at him.

The darker haired man smiled again, but it wasn't really genuine. He wondered if it looked like it was though.

But it was more of a plea, in a way.

Don't ask.

“I'm fine.”

His counterpart fell silent for a while, opting not to pry too much into his business. Instead, he looked away, finally taking off his waistcoat and holding it open, waiting for Blight to understand the cue.

While he did get it, he hesitated. He still had his vest on the pouch, he just wasn't going to wear it right now in case someone appeared and recognized him with it. Plus, it didn't have sleeves anyway, so it wasn't like it'd do much.

But now Miles was also just in a shirt and offering his second layer to him, when he could just put his own clothes on.

Yet he was in fact pretty cold after not having anything covering his arms for a while. But it was selfish, wasn't it?...

He didn't know exactly what to do, but knew he couldn't just ignore him.

When it looked like he would, the thief scuttled closer, turning his back towards the knight.

A gentle smile appeared on the commander’s lips, and he passed his arms through the sleeves, hugging him from behind.

Phoenix groaned softly in embarrassment, but tittered, grateful for the warmth and proximity. And... it did smell good, too...

“Thank you.”

He said, his voice low and gentle.

Though his answer was simple, it made the other man's cheeks tint with his tone. It felt... comforting.

More than that, it made his heart skip a beat and the butterflies in his stomach flutter, all because of the intonation of his tenor, their proximity and this warmth. 

Why?

The knight distanced their faces at first, only to then reapproach them, noses almost brushing against each other. 

Why was something as simple as a "thank you" having this effect on him?

He wondered if Phoenix could tell what he was thinking about.

This wasn't the first time this happened to him, though the last time was from years ago.

Things had changed ever since they were kids.

Drastically.

Still, if there ever was one constant, it would be this weird feeling in his chest, so warm, intense, gentle, yet scary.

How could it be that in one night, years later, that once extinguished fire lit up again, and with so little.

It wasn't like it vanished, more so that it lost traction after losing contact.

Yet, here it was again, stronger than ever.

Easy to feel, hard to act on.

It made him feel like butter, melting under the man's words and touch.

Francis was right. 

He was a fool.

But this one time, just this once, it felt good to be such a fool

He smiled, clearly abashed and not very good at hiding what he felt.

“You're... not so bad a company, huh.”

The thief snorted, leaning back against him.

“How charming. Well, you're not terrible either.” He countered, but there was no real hostility in his tone.

Even if not in a serious tone, the comment made him blush more. Charming.

He moved to hide his face against Blight's neck, his teeth grazing against skin as he smiled witlessly.

“I'd certainly hope so, or else you'd heavily regret agreeing to spend more time with me.”

A chill ran down Phoenix's spine upon feeling his face against his neck, but he didn't move away. Instead, he put his legs on the couch and pulled them to his chest to warm them too.

“What a nightmare that'd be.”

Miles chuckled very lightly, only a small breeze escaping his lips as he nuzzled the other man's shoulder.

“Doesn't feel like I'm awake either way, seeing as having you again in my life is a dream come true.”

The other man's face got a bit hotter too, but he sighed.

“I wouldn't say that. Those aren't... the best circumstances.”

“Maybe so, but... between this or never seeing you again?... I'd take you back at any time.”

The tone of the knight's voice was serious, yet gentle. He raised his head from the burglar's shoulder, looking at him in the eye.

“...It might be unprofessional, but still... I meant it when I said that I never stopped caring or thinking of you. You've always mattered to me. A lot. And... even if it hurts to be in this position... I think it would be even more painful to lose you. ”

Phoenix couldn't tell whether to be happy or melancholic, knowing he would eventually lose him in the end, as they couldn't keep up the act forever. He couldn't run forever, and Miles couldn't just let him go. 

But there was still time, wasn't there? Time to spend with his once best friend, and to figure out where to go from there.

He decided to think about the last part

His tails rested on top of his feet to keep them warm, but they would move a little from time to time. He turned his head enough to rub his head affectionately against the taller man's chin.

“I'm happy to see you too.”

Just that little gesture was enough to make Edgesword’s heart beat slightly faster, and he smiled in an almost goofy manner, the seriousness in his face dissolving with the affection he received. 

The tip of his tail moved involuntarily, and he took the opportunity to wrap it around Phoenix, trying to warm him up.

“I'm happy you're happy to see me, and I'm happy to see you as well.”

Phoenix chuckled, both at the repetition and the gesture.

“I'll start to overheat like this. Aren't you cold?”

His response was another soundless titter, this time accompanied by more tail wagging and the slight tightening of his embrace. Miles dropped his head to Phoenix's shoulder again, rubbing his nose against the crook of his neck, still smiling non-stop.

“I have all the warmth I need, right here.”

The burglar tried not to make any sounds that could evidence his flusteredness, but his own tails started moving a bit more too.

He sank back into Edgesword's embrace.

“So, are you planning on telling me when exactly is your day off, or was I supposed to guess?” He teased.

That seemed to have gotten the commander by surprise, seeing as he had to actually stop and think for a while.

“I have every other Sunday off. Technically speaking, I actually only work weekdays, but I spend my Saturdays training and some of my Sundays focusing on knighthood lessons.”

He frowned, trying to recall when his next free day would be.

“I believe next Sunday I should be available.”

Phoenix nodded, taking mental notes.

“I see.”

He responded simply, also thinking. He had no idea what it meant to be a knight, but it probably meant having a lot of responsibility and someone up in your ass ordering you around, since they worked for a lord and all.

He couldn't tell however if said lessons were something obligatory or if it was just Miles being Miles, and honestly he wouldn't be surprised. They could have spent years apart, but he remembered that little boy who would study everything about the profession and rant about it all day, and get extra excited to get to answer questions about it.

He didn't remember the answer to most now, but he did still have the memory of a small Edgesword beaming with excitement every time he got to talk about it.

“And the ‘where’?”

“That is up to you.”

The silver haired man lifted his head, his nose skimming the thief's. 

“It's only fair you pick the place, given I chose the date. Besides, I want you to feel safe. I wouldn't want to go with you somewhere you felt uneasy.”

He chuckled, his face still pretty warm.

“I mean, I do need to know a common enough place to meet you... and the knight's quarters aren't exactly a place I'd feel safe next to, you know?”

“Exactly my point.”

He gently spoke as he smiled, the blushing on Phoenix's cheeks causing the commander's face to assume a redder hue as well. “It's a compromise for the both of us, and I recognize it's a risk for you as well. That is why I want you to choose a place you feel safe at, in case things don't go as planned.”

He rubbed the side of the burglar's torso, reassuring him.

“Still, I will do everything in my power to make sure nothing of the sort ensues.”

“O-oh, right.”

Blight turned away to hide his flushed face from sight as he thought, one paw thumping on the couch.

“Say... would you happen to remember a certain clearing?...”

Even though he couldn't see Miles' face from this angle, he could feel him smiling against his shoulder, where he once again rested his nose.

“That clearing…”

He chuckled softly, dear memories of said place passing through his mind like movie scenes.

“I do remember it, yes.”

Phoenix smiled.

He used to like playing in the woods more than in the streets with other kids.

It was fresh. It was peaceful. And it was only the two of them.

They weren't allowed to go too far into it, of course, so they would almost always stick to that one spot, to play swords, make picnics, and climb on trees.

Phoenix had always been quite agile. It was no wonder he always won in tag. 

He could climb tall trunks as easily and quickly as a squirrel, and while Miles tried to follow him, he had a harder time, and didn't like to go that high up. 

So, Phoenix would stick to the shorter trees, with strong branches in which they could sit together.

But as much as they liked to play, sometimes Miles would bring a book so they could sit down in the shade and read.

Or, well, Miles could read it. And Phoenix listened intently as he did, sometimes staring at the page with him as he pointed at the words while saying them out loud for him. 

The older Phoenix sighed, thinking that they probably didn't look much different at the moment.

“There.”

He says simply, his voice soft, but holding back most of the emotion behind it.

A light-hearted chuckle came from behind him, the knight's voice somehow melting even more.

“Pfft. How mellow.” He teased. It didn't come off as belittling or mean, but simply as a gentle poking of fun at the cliché nature of the situation. “...But you won't see me complaining.”

“And yet you still remember exactly where I mean.”

 A bit of air left Phoenix’s nose in an almost soundless laugh, thinking about the sapiness of it all.

“But just in case... maybe we could have a password?”

The other man stayed for a few seconds, lost in thought.

“...Fiddlesticks.”

The commander smiled silently, his gaze set far away from where they were.

Fiddlesticks.

He still remembered vividly the first time his friend heard him say that, behind their school wall during recess.

"Oh, fiddlesticks. Now my book's ruined! How can I read anything with this much mud on it?!"

"Fidel stricts?"

"No, it's fiddlesticks. It's what grown-ups say when they get annoyed."

"What even are fiddlesticks?"

"...I...

The little boy felt silent, realizing he didn't know the meaning of the words he blurted out.

"...A stick that fiddles?

He tried coming up with an answer, making his friend laugh with his bad explanation.

"So, like a stick bug?"

"No, it can't be. that would be a stickfiddler."

"Then what?"

The gray haired boy looked around, noticing a puppy playing in the mud with a small twig on its mouth as it ran.

"That dog."

" That's fiddlesticks?"

He sounded confused, but laughed.

“...Yes. It's fiddling with sticks. Fiddlesticks. "

The boys laughed, repeating the word three times and trying to call the dog.

Fiddlesticks, 

Fiddlesticks,

Fiddlesticks.

At the end of the day, when Gregory came to pick up Miles, his son appeared holding the puppy, her round eyes and smile conquering a place in their home in no time.