phoenix rising

🩷

The grand ballroom of Alexandria Castle glows with the warm light of a thousand candles. Intricate tapestries depicting epic battles and fantastical beasts adorn the soaring stone walls. Colorful banners emblazoned with the royal crest hang between stained glass windows, the evening sun filtering through in dazzling displays of light. A soft hum of conversation and occasional bursts of laughter rise above the gentle notes of the small ensemble of musicians tucked away in an alcove.

Prince Taiga Kyomoto stands near the entrance to the grand hall, welcoming the finely dressed nobles and diplomats who have gathered to celebrate his eighteenth birthday. As prince and heir to the throne, this evening also marks his coming of age and ascent to manhood in the eyes of the kingdom.

Taiga wears an embroidered doublet of deep blue velvet with silver fastenings polished to a mirror shine. An ornate circlet rests atop his head, the sapphires glittering in the candlelight. His attire is completed by a large crystal pendant that hangs from a long silver chain around his neck, its lustrous surface reflecting the ambient light. He is the perfect picture of grace as he greets the upper-class citizens, exchanging polite pleasantries.

Inside, however, nerves twist his stomach into knots. Taiga has always been soft-spoken and uncomfortable in crowds. He dreads making small talk with the endless parade of lords and ladies, especially when all he wants is to slip away to the quiet of the castle gardens. But duty binds him here, so he inclines his head respectfully as another nobleman approaches.

“Prince Taiga! Allow me to offer my congratulations on this momentous occasion.” The lord beams at him, bushy gray mustache twitching. “Alexandria is blessed to have you as its future ruler.”

“You are most kind. I hope I can live up to such high expectations,” Taiga replies. He keeps his tone light despite the sudden weight pressing down on his shoulders.

As the nobleman launches into a long-winded description of the expansion plans for his fiefdom, Taiga’s gaze drifts over the sea of guests. His eyes catch on a familiar figure standing guard near a marble column.

Yugo is never far from Taiga’s side at public events, ever watchful for threats to the prince’s safety. They exchange a brief look before Yugo’s attention returns to scanning the crowd. Taiga draws comfort from his stalwart friend and protector’s presence.

Yugo cuts an imposing figure in his black and silver uniform, the royal crest emblazoned on his chest. His hand rests casually on the pommel of his sword, the metal glinting in the candlelight. Taiga knows few can match Yugo’s skill with a blade. His quick reflexes and calculating mind make him a formidable warrior. Taiga has relied on him for protection and companionship since they were boys causing mischief around the castle. In many ways, Yugo understands Taiga better than anyone else.

Taiga nods along absently as the nobleman segues into a detailed account of his family history. Over the man’s shoulder, he glimpses the doors to the balcony standing open, a tantalizing view of the night sky beyond. How he wishes he could slip outside for a breath of fresh air, away from the grating noise and stifling heat of the crowded ballroom.

As if reading his thoughts, Yugo detaches from his position by the column and approaches. “Pardon the interruption, Lord Hiroshi, but might I borrow Prince Taiga for a moment? I’m afraid an urgent matter requires his attention.”

Taiga blinks, then quickly composes his features. “If you would excuse me, my lord.” He bows politely before following Yugo towards the balcony doors.

Once they are out of earshot, he murmurs, “There is no real urgent matter, is there?”

“Only the urgent matter of you needing some air before you pass out from Lord Hiroshi’s relentless droning,” Yugo replies with a subtle grin. He snags two crystal glasses brimming with ruby-red wine from a passing servant and presses one into Taiga’s hand. “Come. The night is still young enough for us to make our escape.”

Taiga accepts the wine gratefully, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Ever thoughtful as always, Yugo.”

They step out onto the stone balcony into the brisk night. The cool air is a welcome relief after the stifling heat of the crowded ballroom. Far below, the lights of Alexandria wink up at them, the streets still busy even at this late hour. Somewhere out there, his subjects go about their lives, blissfully unaware of the destiny that awaits him. Taiga grips the balcony railing, the ever-present weight of expectation seeming to press down on him even harder.

Yugo leans against the railing beside him, wine glass dangling casually from his fingers. “Remember when we were ten and snuck out to climb the old watchtower by the west wall? What a view that was. We thought we were on top of the world.”

Taiga’s lips quirk in a small, rueful smile at the memory. “We did get into our fair share of mischief back then.” His expression turns melancholy. “I miss the simplicity of those days sometimes.”

Yugo regards him with knowing eyes. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Or circlet, in your case.” He lifts his wine glass in a toast. “But you were born to lead this kingdom. I have faith you will rise to the challenge … when the time comes.”

Taiga nods slowly, comforted by Yugo’s steady confidence in him. They both know King Masaki has no intentions of relinquishing the throne any time soon.

Glancing over his shoulder through the balcony doors, Taiga can see the king holding court in the middle of the ballroom, laughing uproariously at some comment as the lords and ladies shower him with attention.

Masaki cuts an impressive figure in his ermine-lined cloak and jewel-encrusted crown. Charisma and restless energy radiate from him in almost palpable waves, captivating those around him. Almost close to five decades, the king only seems to grow more vigorous with age.

Taiga knows he envisions many long years left for his conquests. He has never made a secret of his ambition to rule over all the scattered kingdoms of Gaia.

As if drawn by Taiga’s thoughts, Masaki’s voice suddenly rings out over the murmur of the crowd.

“My friends! Let us raise a glass in honor of my son, Prince Taiga, on this momentous day!”

Taiga braces himself as all eyes turn towards the balcony. He keeps his expression neutral through long practice.

“To Taiga!” Masaki proclaims, lifting his goblet high. “And to Alexandria’s destined conquest of the realms!”

“To Prince Taiga and Alexandria!” the crowd echoes. Servants rush to refill emptied glasses so everyone can join in the toast.

Taiga lifts his own glass half-heartedly as Yugo murmurs, “The conquest he speaks of will not be won without bloodshed.”

“Yes, though he seems untroubled by that prospect,” Taiga replies grimly before draining his wine. The lingering taste is bitter on his tongue.

Masaki appears in the balcony doorway, the fierce energy from his speech still radiating from him. “There you are, birthday boy! Enjoying a quick escape from the revelry?” He claps Taiga on the shoulder, his large signet ring flashing. “Can’t hide away all night. This celebration is in your honor, after all.”

Taiga dips his head respectfully. “Of course, Father. I only need a breath of fresh air. Yugo saw that I was feeling overwhelmed.”

“Understandable, understandable,” Masaki says, eyes already drifting back to the ballroom. “Just make sure you don't stay out here too long. Wouldn’t want people to think their prince lacks stamina.” He winks roguishly before heading back inside, drawn towards the admiring throngs like a moth to flame.

Taiga watches him go, conflicting emotions churning inside him. The king means well, he knows. He just has a tendency to get caught up in his own passions, heedless of anything but his own desires.

Taiga draws a deep breath, steadying himself. “Father seems quite enthused about this latest campaign against Lindblum,” he says carefully.

Yugo nods. “Taking the capital would secure trade routes vital to Alexandria. I have heard him praise the tactical advantages often enough.”

Taiga takes a sip of wine to stall as he gathers his thoughts. “Yet Lindblum has been a loyal ally for generations. This war was sparked by a petty trade dispute. Is the ensuing bloodshed truly justified?” He keeps his tone light, not wanting to seem critical, but anxiety twists inside him at the thought of the lives lost in his father’s battle for power.

Yugo gives him a speculative look. “You know our king better than most. Do you really think anything could dissuade him once set on a course of action? Conquest brings power, and power is what guarantees Alexandria’s future.” He speaks matter-of-factly, without judgment.

Taiga lets out a quiet sigh, gaze dropping. “You speak the truth, my friend.” Once his father fixes his sights on something, his relentless ambition ensures he will stop at nothing to obtain it. This war is merely another stepping stone on the path towards his ultimate goal of uniting all Gaia’s kingdoms under Alexandria’s banner.

Perhaps Yugo reads the unspoken doubts on Taiga’s face, for he reaches out to grip his shoulder firmly. “You are not yet king. Such burdens are not yours to bear alone.” His tone brokers no argument. “For now, simply enjoy the celebration held in your honor.”

Taiga offers him a small, grateful smile. Yugo has always been the pragmatist between them. “Thank you for the wise counsel, as always.” He takes a final deep breath of the cool night air before straightening. “I suppose I should make another appearance before our guests begin to wonder if I’ve disappeared entirely.”

Yugo nods approvingly. “I will inform the guards to be alert for any unrest in the city tonight.” He pauses, expression turning wry. “And I’ve had the kitchen prepare a tray of those cream-filled pastries you like. It will be waiting in your chambers for when you inevitably slip away later.”

Taiga huffs a quiet laugh. “Again you demonstrate why you are indispensable to me.” It heartens him that even after all these years, Yugo still knows his mind so well. “I will be sure to put it to good use.”

They share a grin of perfect understanding before stepping back inside to rejoin the celebration. The ballroom hits Taiga like a wall of suffocating heat and clamor. He allows himself one last wistful glance at the starry sky visible through the balcony doors before donning the serene mask expected of Alexandria’s prince.

The night stretches on interminably as Taiga exchanges pleasantries with countless lords and ladies whose names blur together into an endless stream of vapid congratulations and veiled requests for royal favors. His responses grow increasingly rote behind his polite smile. He tracks the moon’s progress across the sky between gaps in the crowd, willing it to move faster.

Finally, as the revelry shows no signs of abating even late into the night, Taiga seizes his opportunity. He catches Yugo’s eye where he stands against the far wall, ever alert despite the late hour. An exchange of subtle looks is all it takes for Yugo to detach himself and stride towards Taiga’s side.

“Prince Taiga,” he murmurs deferentially with a bow. “Apologies for the interruption, my lady, but the prince appears rather fatigued. I believe it is time he retired for the night.”

Taiga arranges his features into an approximation of exhaustion. “I fear tonight’s revelries have quite worn me out.” He covers a yawn with his hand for added effect.

The noblewoman smiles understandingly. “Of course, Prince Taiga. We mustn’t overtax you on such an important day. I wish you a good night.”

With a relieved bow, Taiga allows Yugo to subtly steer him towards an inconspicuous side door usually reserved for servants. It empties into a dim, deserted corridor, the sounds of the ball fading away.

Taiga sags against the wall, tension draining from his shoulders. “Thank you, Yugo. I was afraid I might scream if I had to endure one more vacuous conversation tonight.”

Yugo chuckles. “We can’t have the heir to Alexandria’s throne brought down by mere small talk. Though if you did scream, I imagine it would liven up the party.”

Taiga lightly smacks his arm with the back of his hand, lips twitching. “My nightmare would be causing a scene at my own birthday celebration.”

“At least it would be memorable.” Yugo's grin softens. “Get some rest, Taiga. And keep your chambers well guarded tonight. With all the drinking, passions are bound to run hot in the city.”

Taiga nods, touched by his concern. “I will. Make sure to get some sleep yourself and don’t run the guards too ragged.”

“No promises there.” Yugo sketches a playful salute before turning serious. “You know how to reach me if you need anything.”

“I do. Thank you, Yugo. For everything.”

With an exchange of nods, Yugo disappears back into the corridor’s shadows, off to attend to his duties.

Taiga watches him go, heart lifted from its earlier melancholy. Squaring his shoulders, he slips through the deserted back hallways of the castle he knows by heart until he reaches his own chambers.

💙

Amidst the dazzling festivities of Alexandria’s palace, Juri, cloaked in the guise of an entertainer, glides through the throng with the grace of a seasoned performer. His eyes, alight with mischief, dart from face to face, his lips curled in a perpetual smirk. The vibrant music mingles with the laughter and chatter of the guests, creating a tapestry of sound and merriment.

Juri’s charm works its magic; he exchanges playful banter, a wink here, a teasing comment there. His flirtatious demeanor knows no bounds, captivating both lords and ladies alike.

But beneath this carefree façade, his mind is as sharp as the twin daggers concealed beneath his vibrant garb. Tonight, the Tantalus will execute their most audacious plan yet: the kidnapping of Prince Taiga of Alexandria.

As Juri twirls a silk handkerchief with a flourish, he subtly surveys his surroundings. Sakura, clad in the modest attire of a staff member, deftly navigates the periphery, her keen gaze missing nothing. Hokuto, their tactician, is tucked away in the shadows, his presence nearly imperceptible. Meanwhile, Jesse and Shintaro lurk at strategic points, ready for action.

Juri’s eyes finally rest on their quarry. Prince Taiga is the epitome of royal grace, conversing with his guests with an effortless charm that belies his station. Yugo Kochi, his loyal bodyguard, stands ever-vigilant at his side.

Taiga’s beauty is a force unto itself; his fair skin, untouched by the sun’s harsh kiss, complements his tousled light brown hair. But it’s the dark, enigmatic eyes that hold Juri captive – they are like twin abysses, promising secrets untold. Juri is rendered momentarily speechless, his usual bravado faltering in the face of such sheer beauty.

But he recovers quickly as a nobleman approaches, hoping to introduce his daughter to the charming entertainer. Juri slips back into character effortlessly, taking the young woman’s hand and complimenting her grace and beauty. As the nobleman beams proudly, Juri steals another glance at the prince.

As the nobleman and his daughter laugh heartily at Juri’s fabricated anecdotes, the prince bids a noblewoman farewell with a delicate yawn, veiled behind his hand – a silent signal that the night’s events are drawing to a close.

This is the moment the Tantalus have been waiting for.

As Taiga retreats, Juri catches Hokuto’s eye. A subtle nod is all it takes – the diversion will commence as soon as the prince vanishes behind the gilded doors of his private chambers.

Juri takes a deep breath, the air heavy with the scents of exotic perfumes and spiced delicacies. His heart beats a rhythm akin to the drums in the background, anticipation and adrenaline merging into a heady concoction.

With a final, fleeting glance at Taiga’s retreating form, Juri readies himself. The game is afoot, and the Tantalus are poised to make their most daring move yet.

From his vantage point, Juri watches Sakura purposefully stride toward the crowded banquet hall. With her hair tucked beneath a bonnet, she moves with calculated grace, a tray of goblets balanced in her hands.

As she nears the grand doors, her foot “accidentally” catches on the hem of her skirt, sending the tray clattering to the ground, goblets spilling in a cacophony of shattered crystal and spilled wine.

The resulting commotion is immediate. Guards and servants alike rush to Sakura’s aid, their attention diverted from their posts. Juri can’t help but smirk, admiring her knack for theatrics.

Sakura apologizes profusely, her voice echoing down the hallway, reaching Juri’s ears as he prepares for the next phase of their plan.

At the opposite end of the castle, a series of muffled thuds reverberate through the stone walls. Juri knows it’s Hokuto, executing the next diversion.

Concealed in a hidden alcove, Hokuto unleashes a barrage of throwing knives, each one striking a precision mark—a tapestry here, a chandelier there. The knives’ impact is followed by the release of smoke bombs, which billow out in thick, disorienting clouds.

The guards, already flustered by Sakura’s accident, now scramble toward the new disturbances, their shouts echoing through the corridors.

Juri takes a moment to appreciate Hokuto’s handiwork. Even from a distance, he can envision Hokuto’s calm demeanor, a stark contrast to the chaos he orchestrates. His personality shines through, the meticulous planning seen in the precise timing and placement of each distraction.

As the guards disperse, Juri catches sight of Jesse, his lifelong companion, positioned near the castle’s side entrance. Even in the dim light, Jesse’s figure exudes confidence, his dual-edged daggers glinting. Jesse meets Juri’s gaze across the corridor, a silent message passing between them. It’s time to move.

The two dart through the now sparsely guarded hallways, their footsteps light and swift. Juri’s heart races, not from fear, but from exhilaration—the thrill of the heist coursing through his veins. They slip past distracted guards with ease, their camaraderie and shared history lending them a near-telepathic understanding of each other’s movements.

Near the castle’s rear, Shintaro awaits, his youthful energy barely contained as he grips his battle ax. Juri notes the subtle shift in Shintaro’s stance as Hokuto approaches, the faint softening of his eyes betraying his affection.

With the team in position, Juri's gaze shifts to the grand staircase leading to the royal chambers. The distractions have served their purpose, the castle’s defenses temporarily in disarray. Juri draws his daggers, their blades whispering promises of the action to come. With a nod to his comrades, he signals the advance.

Juri’s heart hammers in his chest as he leads the advance through the shadow-draped corridor of the palace. The stone walls, cold and unforgiving to the touch, echo the soft pad of their boots. Gilded sconces, spaced at regular intervals, cast a dim, flickering glow, as if the flames themselves are reluctant participants in this clandestine operation. Tapestries, illustrating tales of yore, drape along the walls, their threads whispering secrets of the past.

With a swift gesture of his hand, Hokuto signals a halt. Juri, crouched low, feels the air brush past his face as a solitary guard rounds the corner. He inhales deeply, the metallic scent of the palace’s interior filling his nostrils. With fluid grace, born from countless nights of practice, Juri unsheathes his twin daggers, their blades gleaming like shards of moonlight. Without a sound, he launches forward.

The guard, a young man not much older than Juri himself, barely has time to register the threat. Juri’s first dagger finds its silent rest at the base of the guard’s neck, a mere threat, while the second pins the guard’s sword arm to his side.

“Sleep now, friend,” Juri murmurs, his voice a velvet caress. A practiced flick of the wrist and a soft thud; the guard slumps into Juri’s arms, rendered unconscious by a swift, non-lethal blow. Gently, he lowers the guard to the floor, sparing a moment to close the man’s wide, startled eyes.

“Nice,” Jesse whispers from the shadows, his voice barely above a breath. “Like a ghost, bro.”

Juri flashes a grin, all white teeth and wild excitement, before turning his attention back to the task at hand. “Let’s keep moving.”

They proceed, a fluid, silent shadow slinking through the opulent hallway. Hokuto’s hand signals guide them, his eyes constantly scanning for traps or hidden eyes. Shintaro, gripping his hefty ax, lumbers behind with a contained energy, like a storm awaiting release. Jesse’s daggers glint as he follows, mirroring Juri’s own ready stance.

The corridor ahead forks, and Hokuto points left with a subtle nod. Juri can’t help but notice the way Shintaro’s gaze lingers on Hokuto.

The hallway ends abruptly before the grand doors of the prince's chambers. A pair of guards stand sentry, their armor reflecting the torchlight. Hokuto's eyes meet Juri’s, a silent conversation passing between them. It’s time for the final act.

Jesse and Juri exchange a fleeting look, a shared thrill igniting between them. With a nod, they spring into action. Jesse darts to the right, his agility a blur as he closes the distance. Juri mirrors him, his own body a symphony of movement. Their daggers sing in harmony, a deadly duet meant for silent incapacitation.

Jesse’s targets fall with quiet gasps, caught off guard by the whirlwind that is Jesse’s form. Juri’s dance is more direct, a beautiful lethality that leaves his opponents crumpled in graceful defeat.

With the guards neutralized, Sakura steps forward, her presence a calming force. She kneels beside the fallen men, her hands glowing with a soft, ethereal light. As she murmurs incantations, their injuries mend, ensuring no life is lost tonight.

The grand doors loom before them, the only barrier now between them and Prince Taiga. Juri’s heart beats a rapid tattoo against his ribs, anticipation and adrenaline coursing through his veins. He shares a look with his comrades, their expressions a mix of resolve and excitement.

Hokuto nods, and Shintaro readies his ax. This is the moment they have been planning for.

With a flourish that belies the gravity of the situation, Juri pushes open the grand doors. The room beyond is an oasis of tranquility in contrast to the opulence of the rest of the palace. Soft tapestries line the walls, depicting serene landscapes. A modest fire crackles in the hearth, casting a warm glow across the room’s sparse furnishings.

At the center, Prince Taiga stands, dressed not in the royal garb one would expect, but in simple, well-worn attire that speaks of comfort rather than status. The only accessory that remains from his birthday attire is the crystal pendant around his neck.

Taiga’s head snaps up, eyes wide with surprise. The prince's usually impeccable composure is shattered, replaced by a raw, unguarded expression that Juri finds unexpectedly endearing.

“Well, hello there,” Juri drawls, his voice dripping with an easy charm. He leans casually against the doorframe, twin daggers glinting at his sides. “Hope we’re not interrupting anything important.”

Taiga’s gaze flickers from Juri to the daggers, and back again. His posture straightens, the initial shock fading into a wary poise. “Who are you?” he demands, his voice steady despite the circumstances. “What do you want?”

Juri’s lips curve into a roguish smile. “Name’s Juri. As for what I want …” He lets the sentence hang, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, let’s just say we’re here to add a little excitement to your evening.”

A flicker of something passes over Taiga's face—irritation, perhaps, or the dawning realization of his predicament. “You’re a thief,” he states, though it's less an accusation and more a resigned acceptance.

Juri’s smile widens. “Got it in one. But don’t worry, Your Highness, we’re not here for your trinkets or your gold.”

He takes a step forward, the playful glint in his eyes belying the danger of his words. The rest of his companions filter into the room, their presence a silent statement of the futility of resistance.

“We’re here for you.”

🩷

Taiga steps into his private chambers, closing the heavy wooden door behind him with a soft click. A chill permeates the air, the first hints of winter’s breath creeping into the castle. He rubs his arms briskly, eyes scanning the room.

The dying embers in the fireplace cast a dim, flickering glow across the space. Shadows dance along the stone walls, animate in the waning light. His gaze settles on the small table by the window, where a tray sits adorned with cream-filled pastries. A faint smile tugs at Taiga’s lips as he remembers Yugo’s promise to deliver the treats earlier that night.

Crossing the room, Taiga lifts one of the pastries from the tray. The dough is light and flaky between his fingers. He takes a small bite, the rich sweet cream coating his tongue. As he chews, Taiga turns and leans against the window frame, peering out at the moonlit castle grounds below.

From this height, the guards patrolling the parapets look like little more than ants marching along their prescribed paths. The illusion of order and security they represent makes Taiga’s heart sink. He swallows, the pastry turning dry and chalky in his mouth.

Below, the world seems straightforward. Regiments of soldiers with their gilded armor and gleaming weapons stand as sentinels, protecting the kingdom from unnamed threats. But Taiga knows the truth — that many dangers fester unseen, even within these walls.

His gaze drops to the manicured grass and neatly trimmed hedges just beyond the window. A pang of longing shoots through his chest. When was the last time his feet touched real earth, felt the blades of grass between his toes? He cannot recall.

Taiga’s life has been confined to the castle for as long as he can remember. Sheltered, isolated, trapped. His interactions limited to the same guards and servants day after tedious day. The only glimpses of the world outside these walls come from his lessons about the surrounding lands of Gaia.

Even these geographies exist for him as little more than ink on parchment. Fantastical ideas devoid of texture or depth. Taiga yearns to explore them himself, to truly understand the kingdoms and peoples he is destined to rule.

Walking to his bed, Taiga kneels and pulls out a bundled set of clothes from underneath. Simple leggings and tunic, soft leather boots — garments intended to help him blend in outside the castle. He runs his fingers over the materials, imagining the freedom they represent.

Today, the opportunity strikes. With passions running hot at the celebration of his birthday, he’ll sneak out of one of the carriages and escape the castle. The hustle and activity of the coming event will provide the perfect chance for Taiga to slip away unnoticed.

In his mind’s eye, Taiga pictures himself walking calmly out of the castle dressed in his peasant’s clothes, the guards none the wiser. He heads straight for Lindblum, the mechanized kingdom to the southwest ruled by his childhood friend, the newly crowned King. There, he hopes to broker a secret meeting and try to prevent the war his father ceaselessly seeks to provoke, not to mention seek answers to questions that have been plaguing him for months.

Taiga knows his father, obsessed with conquest and glory, will never be dissuaded from his desire to invade the neighboring realms. But Taiga himself abhors violence and believes open war would lead only to senseless bloodshed. If he can make an appeal to Kento on his own, perhaps a diplomatic solution can be found.

This plan is Taiga’s only hope of taking real action, of making a choice for himself instead of remaining forever a helpless pawn moved about by his father’s whims. The very thought of seizing some small measure of autonomy quickens his breath with nervous excitement.

Still, he knows how high the stakes are. If caught, there is no telling how his father would punish such disobedience. Taiga shudders, banishing those fears from his mind. Better not to dwell on them.

He finishes dressing into his peasants’ clothes, much lighter than his royal garb, and stands slowly, glancing around the room. He considers removing the crystal pendant around his neck, but he keeps it. It’s his remaining memento from his mother, after all. This room feels smaller tonight, the walls closing in with suffocating pressure. Taiga crosses to the fireplace and places another log on the fading embers, coaxing the flames back to life with a poker.

The grand wooden door suddenly swings open, the loud creak making Taiga jump. He turns to see a young man, close to his age perhaps, saunter into his chambers, lean and lithe, with a roguish smile.

“Well, hello there. Hope we’re not interrupting anything important,” the stranger says, his voice dripping with easy charm. He leans casually against the doorframe, the flickering firelight glinting off the twin daggers at his sides.

Taiga’s gaze darts between the newcomer and the blades, then settles back on the young man’s face. Taiga’s initial shock fades as he straightens his posture, hands clasped behind his back.

“Who are you?” Taiga demands, his voice steady and commanding despite the circumstances. “What do you want?”

The intruder’s smile widens. “Name’s Juri,” he says with a graceful bow. “As for what I want …” He lets the sentence hang, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “Well, let’s just say we’re here to add a little excitement to your evening.”

Taiga’s brow furrows slightly, piecing it together. “You’re a thief,” he states plainly, an observation rather than accusation.

Juri claps slowly. “Got it in one. But don't worry, Your Highness, we’re not here for your trinkets or gold.”

He takes a casual step forward. Four more figures slip into the room behind him, weapons glinting in the firelight. Juri’s playful tone belies the danger. “We’re here for you.”

Taiga’s gaze darts swiftly over each thief in turn, analyzing. A daring plan takes shape in his mind. Perhaps these rogues could unintentionally assist his escape, if he plays it right.

“I propose a negotiation,” Taiga says evenly. “Escort me safely to Lindblum, and I will compensate you handsomely upon delivery.”

Juri raises an eyebrow, intrigued but suspicious. “And why would the Crown Prince want to escape his kingdom?”

“My reasons are my own,” Taiga replies cryptically. "Do we have an accord?"

Juri chuckles. "You’ve got guts, I'll give you that." He glances back at his companions uncertainly.

Taiga recognizes this is his only chance. Steeling himself, he strides forward and grabs his sword from the edge of the bed, brandishing it between them. The other thieves tense, gripping their weapons tighter.

“I will go to Lindblum tonight, with or without your help,” Taiga declares, voice resonating with princely authority. “But let us see first if your skills merit the task.”

He settles into a combative stance, sword held ready. The firelight flickers wildly across Taiga’s determined expression. Juri grins and draws his twin blades.

“Well then, Your Highness,” he says, circling slowly. “Shall we dance?”

They begin to circle each other slowly, like dancers about to perform. Taiga’s gaze remains fixed on Juri, tuning out the presence of the other thieves watching from the edges of the room.

Juri strikes first, feinting left before slicing his right-hand dagger toward Taiga’s shoulder. Taiga parries the blow, angling his blade to redirect the dagger’s momentum downward. The weapons clash with a sharp clang.

They continue to trade calculated strikes and parries, steel ringing against steel. Taiga relies on his defensive training, aiming to disarm rather than harm. He ducks and sidesteps Juri’s slashes, waiting patiently for an opening.

Sweat glistens on Juri’s brow as his initial confidence seemingly wavers. Juri lunges, overextending, and Taiga capitalizes on the mistake. He catches Juri’s arm and uses his momentum to flip him cleanly over onto his back.

Juri’s daggers skitter across the stone floor as he lands hard, the wind knocked from his lungs. Taiga lowers his sword tip to Juri’s chest before he can rise, glancing up briefly at the other thieves.

They watch warily, gripping their weapons in white-knuckled hands. Taiga looks back down at Juri, pinned but still wearing a hint of his earlier roguish grin.

“It seems you still have much to learn,” Taiga says calmly. “But perhaps we can help each other.”

He extends a hand to help Juri up. Juri accepts after a moment’s hesitation, a glint of newfound respect in his eyes. They stand facing each other as Taiga resheathes his sword, leaving it to Juri to make the next move.

Juri regains his footing, rolling his shoulders and neck with catlike grace. His moment of defeat seems to have sharpened his focus. He flourishes his daggers, a glint entering his eyes that puts Taiga on guard.

When Juri strikes again, his movements are fluid and unpredictable. He ducks and weaves past Taiga’s blade in a dizzying dance, pressing closer despite Taiga’s attempts to keep him at bay. Juri’s daggers slice through the air, twin blurs just out of reach.

Taiga struggles to track Juri’s erratic attacks. Sweat drips into his eyes as he desperately parries, but Juri’s speed is too great. With a flick of his wrist, Juri disarms Taiga, sending his sword skittering across the floor. A heartbeat later, Taiga finds himself pinned against the wall, dagger points pressed to his throat.

Taiga freezes, chest heaving. The cold kiss of the blade leaves no room for further resistance. He meets Juri’s gaze steadily, seeing the resolve there beneath the triumphant grin.

Slowly, Taiga inclines his head in concession. Frustration courses through him, but he forces himself to smother them for now.

“It seems I have more to learn as well,” Taiga says, a rueful smile touching his lips. “Very well. I will go with you to Lindblum without further struggle.”

Juri searches his expression for a moment, then steps back, lowering his daggers. Taiga rubs his neck where the blades pressed as the other thieves converge around them.

He takes a deep breath, realizing he needs to gain the thieves’ trust if they are to help him. “I confess, my wish to go to Lindblum is not mere fancy,” he begins. “The walls of this castle have been my prison. I seek to understand the world beyond these confines, to meet the King of Lindblum … my childhood friend.”

The thieves exchange surprised glances, curiosity mingling with wariness on their faces. One of them, a boy with wavy black hair, steps forward, his soft voice carrying unexpected authority. “This alters our plans significantly, Your Highness. What makes you think we’ll agree to this?”

Taiga meets Hokuto’s gaze evenly. “What is your name?”

“Hokuto, Your Highness.”

“Hokuto. Well, by assisting me, you gain an ally in the royal court. I will bring access and information, if you should need it. And I assure you, no harm will come to any of you if we’re caught.”

The tall boy rubs his chin, considering. After a moment, he extends a hand to Taiga. “I’m Jesse, leader of the Tantalus. We accept your terms, but know this — our loyalty is to each other first and foremost. Any deviation from the plan, and our deal is forfeited.”

Taiga clasps his hand. “You have my word.” Exhilaration and apprehension course through him. This daring dream is becoming real. “What is our escape route?”

Hokuto unfolds a detailed map. “I’ve discovered a secret passage, hidden in the castle gardens. Lightly guarded at night — perfect for slipping away unseen.”

Taiga blinks in surprise. A secret passage in his own home, utterly unknown to him. He and Yugo had snuck into several when they were children, but this one is unfamiliar to him.

The boy with broad shoulders grins at him. “Too busy playing prince to notice the secrets under your nose, huh?”

Taiga smiles ruefully. “It seems I have much to learn.”

As they finalize plans, Taiga feels the shackles of his gilded cage falling away. With a last look at his chambers, he follows the thieves into the castle’s shadows, finally seizing his freedom.

💙

Juri watches as Taiga’s eyes widen with wonder upon entering the castle’s hidden passageway. He can’t help but smile at the prince’s innocent amazement. Hokuto leads the way, lantern raised to light the narrow stone corridor. Taiga follows a few steps behind, peering around eagerly as if trying to absorb every detail.

“Come along, Your Highness,” Juri says. “Best keep up.”

Taiga startles slightly at being addressed. He glances back at Juri and nods before hurriedly catching up to Hokuto. 

Juri shakes his head in amusement as he takes up the rear behind the prince.

Up ahead, Jesse falls into step beside Juri. “Well, that was easy enough,” he says quietly. “Can’t believe the prince just agreed to come with us.”

Juri chuckles under his breath. “We’re taking him to Lindblum, just like he wants. Why wouldn’t he trust us?”

Jesse shrugs. “Still seems odd that a prince would willingly let a bunch of ruffians kidnap him.”

“I’m not complaining,” Juri replies. “Makes our job simpler. We’re taking him to Lindblum, anyway.”

As they walk, he thinks back to the ballroom earlier, how he couldn’t take his eyes off Taiga once he spotted him. The prince had practically glowed, his beauty accentuated by the shimmering lights and elegant clothes. Juri usually pays little mind to royalty, but even he was momentarily captivated.

Jesse nudges Juri with his elbow, interrupting his thoughts. “I saw you making eyes at the prince back there,” he says, eyebrows waggling suggestively.

Juri snorts. “Just admiring the view.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Jesse grins knowingly. “Well, you’ve got a whole airship ride to flirt with His Highness now.”

“As if he’d notice me that way,” Juri scoffs, but can’t help another glance at Taiga. He really is lovely, almost ethereal. Far too refined for a common thief. With a sigh, Juri adds, “A boy can dream though.”

Their hushed conversation halts abruptly at the sound of pounding footsteps echoing through the passage. Hokuto raises a hand, signaling everyone to stop. Juri’s muscles tense, senses on high alert. Is someone following them?

“Taiga!” an unfamiliar voice shouts. “Your Highness, wait!”

A young man sprints into view, face flushed with exertion. His formal attire and the sheathed sword at his hip mark him as nobility. 

Taiga gasps softly. “Yugo!”

Yugo skids to a halt several paces away, hand on his sword hilt. His sharp gaze sizes up the thieves surrounding the prince.

“Step away from His Highness,” Yugo warns.

Taiga steps forward placatingly. “It’s alright, Yugo. These people are taking me to see Kento in Lindblum. I’m going willingly.”

Yugo frowns, doubt clouding his expression. 

Hokuto shifts his footing warily. They need to move soon, before the passageway is swarming with guards.

“Come on, let’s go,” Jesse mutters. “We’re losing time.”

He brushes past Hokuto and stalks towards Yugo, daggers glinting in both hands. Yugo snarls and draws his sword in a flash of steel. Jesse leaps forward, blades colliding with Yugo’s sword in a dizzying clash.

Juri swears under his breath. So much for slipping away quietly. He darts into the fray, twirling his daggers as he aims for Yugo’s legs. 

Yugo pivots swiftly, parrying Juri’s strike while slashing at Jesse. They exchange a rapid flurry of blows, the passageway echoing with the ring of blades.

“Stop! Don’t hurt him!” Taiga cries out.

Juri grimaces. As if this wasn't complicated enough already.

“A little help here?” Jesse grunts at Hokuto.

With a reluctant sigh, Hokuto flicks his wrist. A small metal orb sails through the air, exploding at Yugo’s feet in a cloud of thick smoke. Yugo staggers back, coughing harshly. Jesse and Juri press their advantage, disarming Yugo and forcing him to his knees.

Jesse delivers a swift knock to Yugo’s temple with the pommel of his dagger. Yugo collapses, unconscious. 

Silence falls over the passage.

Taiga hurries to Yugo’s side, crouching down to check on him. “You didn’t need to be so rough,” he admonishes quietly.

“Our apologies, Your Highness,” Hokuto says. “But we must keep moving.”

Jesse sheathes his daggers and grabs Yugo’s arms to drag him along. Taiga’s hands flutter anxiously as he watches.

“Wait,” he says. “We can’t just leave him here.”

Jesse pauses, scowling. “We’ve already wasted time. The ship is waiting.”

“Please.” Taiga fixes Jesse with an earnest, pleading look. “I’ll cooperate fully, but only if Yugo comes too. He’s my friend.”

Juri hides a smile. The prince has more backbone than expected. 

Jesse scrubs a hand over his face, visibly torn. Carrying another person will slow them down significantly. Finally, he exhales harshly. “Fine. But you better keep up.”

Taiga’s shoulders relax in relief. “Thank you.”

Jesse hauls Yugo over his shoulder. The extra weight forces him to move at a lumbering pace. There’s no chance of hurrying now. 

Juri presses his lips together anxiously. Their escape window is shrinking by the second.

Sakura steps forward, hand outstretched toward Yugo. A soft glow emanates from her palm. 

Yugo stirs faintly as the healing magic knits his injured temple back together.

Taiga blinks in surprise. “That’s incredible,” he breathes. “Actual magic…”

“No time for gawking, let's move,” Hokuto says urgently.

The group proceeds down the passage as quick as Jesse can manage. The prince seems content now that his friend is with him. Juri keeps a wary eye out for any other pursuers, but the tunnel remains empty.

After what feels like an eternity, Hokuto pushes open a hidden stone door, revealing the castle gardens outside. The Prima Vista hovers just past the gardens, ramp lowered and engine rumbling.

Shouting sounds in the distance as the castle guards finally pick up their trail. Hokuto waves everyone through the door hurriedly. Juri takes up the rear once again, ensuring no one gets left behind as they sprint for the airship. He helps Jesse haul Yugo on board before pulling the ramp up behind them.

“All clear, take us out!” Juri calls up to the helm.

The Prima Vista rises swiftly into the night sky as Shintaro gleefully punches the throttle. The castle grows smaller below them, though flickering torchlights are still visible where guards search the grounds.

Juri releases a slow, relieved breath. They somehow pulled it off, prince and stowaway in tow. Sakura is already tending to Yugo’s lingering head injury. Taiga hovers anxiously nearby, worry creasing his brow.

On impulse, Juri approaches and offers a small bow. “Please make yourself comfortable, Your Highness. We should reach Lindblum in a couple of days.”

Taiga gives him a hesitant smile. “Alright. And thank you, for not leaving Yugo behind.”

Juri rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Of course. Couldn’t refuse once you gave me that look.”

Taiga ducks his head, cheeks flushing slightly. Juri’s own face suddenly feels warm. An awkward silence hangs between them for a beat.

“I, um, I should go check on Yugo,” Taiga mumbles before quickly moving away.

Juri watches him kneel beside Yugo, taking his friend’s hand gently. His chest tightens with an emotion he can’t quite name. With some effort, Juri tears his gaze away and heads up to the helm to join Shintaro.

The young pilot grins at Juri's approach. “So, we’ve got a prince on board now, huh? Things just got interesting!”

Juri chuckles wryly. “That’s one word for it.”

He settles into the seat beside Shintaro and gazes out at the moonlit sky ahead. His thoughts keep drifting back to Taiga. Having the beautiful prince so near, yet still untouchable, will surely be an exquisite torture. Juri sighs softly, resigned to his longing.

Still, seeing Taiga's radiant smile aimed his way stirred feelings long forgotten. 

Feelings he’s not certain he wants to revisit.

🩷

The Prima Vista glides smoothly through the night sky, leaving Alexandria Castle and city fading into the distance behind it. Taiga kneels on the wooden floor of the airship near the front, gently cradling Yugo’s head in his lap.

Yugo’s eyes flutter open, confusion clouding his gaze as he struggles to regain consciousness after the blow to his head.

“Yugo! Thank goodness you’re awake,” Taiga says, relief washing over his features. He helps Yugo sit up carefully. “Just take it slow. You had quite a nasty bump.”

Yugo raises a hand to his bruised temple, wincing slightly at even that soft touch. His eyes narrow as the memory comes flooding back — the secret passage, the prince disappearing, giving chase, and then the thieves attacking …

He springs to his feet in a rush, hand flying to the sword hilt at his waist before he sways unsteadily.

Taiga reaches out to grip his shoulders, steadying him. “Careful, you must still be dizzy,” he frets.

Yugo shakes him off, casting a venomous glare across the airship deck where Jesse leans casually against the wall cleaning his fingernails with a dagger point, the other thieves gathered nearby.

“Release Prince Taiga at once!” Yugo demands, stalking towards them with clenched fists. Still disoriented, he stumbles slightly but refuses Taiga’s offered assistance.

“Yugo, stop!” Taiga darts in front of his friend, hands raised pleadingly. “I came with them willingly. We’re en route to Lindblum now.”

“Lindblum?” Yugo frowns down at Taiga, even more baffled. “Why in Gaia’s name would you want to go with these … scoundrels?” His lip curls in distaste.

Jesse snorts in offense. “Hey, we’re not that bad once you get to know us. The name’s Jesse.” He flashes a cheeky grin.

Yugo pointedly ignores him, awaiting Taiga’s response.

The young prince sighs, running a troubled hand through his hair. “It is complicated, my friend. Will you walk with me? There is much I need to explain.”

Yugo’s rigid posture softens slightly. “Of course.”

Juri steps forward, giving a gallant bow. “Your Highness, if you require privacy, might I suggest the cargo room below deck?”

Taiga blinks, then offers the thief a grateful smile. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

Juri rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure, no problem …”

Taiga turns and leads Yugo towards the hatch that descends into bowels of the airship. Yugo pauses to fix Jesse and the other thieves with an icy, warning glare before following the prince into the ship’s dim underbelly, one hand still gripped tightly on his sword hilt.

The cargo room is musty and close, filled wall to wall with crates and barrels lashed into place, swaying gently with the motion of the ship.

Taiga perches on the edge of a crate, regarding Yugo solemnly across from him. “First, old friend, I must apologize for worrying you and for my rash actions tonight,” he begins earnestly. “I know how this seems, but believe me when I say this journey is necessary.”

Yugo’s brow furrows, conflicted emotions playing over his face. “Necessary for what?” he finally asks gruffly. “Taiga, what are you not telling me?”

Above their heads, the floorboards creak. Yugo’s glare shoots upwards, suspicion etched on his face.

“We are alone,” Taiga assures him gently. “Now, what I tell you next cannot leave this room …”

Taiga takes a slow breath before the words spill out in a rush — how a month ago, he overheard King Masaki telling his adviser that Taiga was adopted as an infant. How the late Queen Hiromi brought him back eighteen years ago finding him washed up on the shore, assumed drowned. How the Queen decided that he shall be the replacement for the Prince Taiga who died days ago due to an illness and how he had assumed Prince Taiga’s identity since then.

How Taiga has felt lost, doubting his identity and his destiny ever since.

“ … I have to know the truth, who I really am and where I come from,” he finishes urgently. “Kento’s mother, the Queen, was there when I was found. Surely she told him something before she died last winter. I need to speak with my old friend.”

He meets Yugo’s stunned gaze anxiously, afraid of what he might find there. Disbelief? Betrayal?

But Yugo’s dark eyes reflect only compassion and concern for the boy he was sworn to protect. “Taiga …” He says, stepping closer to the prince. “You should have told me this. You know secrets have no place between us.”

Taiga’s vision blurs with tears. “Forgive me,” he whispers. “I thought I had to unravel this mystery alone.”

Yugo clasps Taiga’s shoulders firmly. “Never alone. We will find the answers you seek, my brother. This, I swear to you.”

Overcome with relief and gratitude, Taiga embraces his loyal friend fiercely. Yugo returns it without hesitation, the two sharing a moment of profound connection that gives Taiga strength.

They break apart at the scuffle of boots behind them. Taiga looks over to see Juri hastily backpedaling up the narrow stairs, the other thieves turning away sheepishly from where they had crowded around the hatch above to eavesdrop.

Taiga huffs a small, surprised laugh and shakes his head. He should have expected the band of rogues to be curious about their royal hostage and his motives. Brushing a hand over his eyes to dash away the lingering tears, he squares his shoulders and moves to follow Juri back up the stairs, Yugo close behind.

“My friends,” Taiga addresses the chastised thieves clustered around the ship’s steering console. “It seems we share a common destination now. Perhaps you might clarify precisely why you mean to bring me to Lindblum?”

Juri shoots Jesse a questioning look.

Their leader straightens from his casual pose and clears his throat. “Yeah, about that …” Jesse rubs his neck, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. “We, uh, might have left out a tiny detail earlier.”

Yugo makes an exasperated noise. “Out with it, then!”

Jesse gives him an annoyed look. “Alright, keep your pants on! The thing is … King Kento actually hired us to kidnap you, Your Highness.”

“What?!” Taiga and Yugo exclaim in unison.

“Kento did?” Taiga asks worriedly. “Why ever would he do that?”

Jesse holds up his hands helplessly. “Hey! All we were told is he needed to talk to you urgently about something. Couldn’t get Alexandria’s cooperation to bring you to him, so he contacted the best transporters and extraction experts around.” He puffs out his chest, grinning cockily.

The other thieves nod and chime in enthusiastically with sounds of agreement about their exceptional skills.

Yugo looks decidedly unimpressed, but Taiga ignores them, sinking down to sit heavily on a crate, brow furrowed. Kento needing to take drastic measures to meet with him urgently … could this mean Kento knows something about Taiga’s mysterious origins?

His heart starts to race with renewed hope.

Hokuto steps forward then, clearing his throat. He unrolls a chart across the console, stabbed in place at the corners by an array of exotic daggers.

“While Lindblum is but two day’s flight from here, I believe it prudent we avoid major air lanes and population centers for the time being. We shall fly southwest to the Burmecian Highlands to resupply and allow interest in our, shall we say, unscheduled departure to diminish.” He traces a path across the map with one slender finger. “We can reach the city of Burmecia in approximately three days if weather permits. Once there, we shall restock our veil energy crystals. Hopefully, in that time, we could have thrown Alexandria off our usual trail for us to then make way to Lindblum without issue.”

Murmurs of agreement sound around Hokuto.

Taiga considers this new information, comforted by the thieves’ strategic thinking. He meets Yugo’s eyes questioningly.

Yugo shrugs. “It is as good a plan as any, though I still do not like relying on these outlaws for our safe passage.” He crosses his arms, staring stonily ahead.

Juri laughs good-naturedly. “Like it or not, you’re stuck with us, my skeptical friend! Now, who fancies turning in for the night? All this kidnapping and secrecy just made me exhausted.”

As the tension dissipates, Taiga feels his own exhaustion take over, reminded suddenly it must be nearing dawn.

The thieves meander off in search of food and rest after their eventful night. Soon, only Taiga, Yugo, and Jesse remain hovering over the map.

Jesse looks them over, no hint of his usual mirth on his face. “I know you got no reason to trust us,” he says seriously. “But I promise we’ll get you to Lindblum in one piece. After that ...” He shrugs. “Up to you whether we part ways or keep in touch. Either way, you got my word we’ll do right by you both.”

He holds Taiga’s gaze until the prince nods solemnly in acceptance.

“Very well, Jesse. I believe we have an understanding.”

The tension eases from Jesse’s frame, and his casual grin returns. “Great! Now, I reckon you royals aren’t used to slumming it on an airship. Got you settled in our last empty cabin below. Just mind that loose board by the dresser and you’ll be fine.”

He leads them down the narrow passageway toward the crew sleeping quarters. Taiga thanks him as Jesse gestures them into the cramped cabin tucked in the ship’s aft. Inside sits an utterly unremarkable room with plain metal walls and utilitarian furnishings — two narrow beds bolted to the floor, a simple table and stool, and a small porthole window overlooking the dark terrain sliding by below.

Despite its humility compared to his luxurious castle chambers, Taiga feels immensely grateful. This journey still feels like a fever dream, but the sight of an actual bed makes the reality sink in. He turns to bid Jesse good night, but the roguish young captain has already disappeared up the passageway.

With a tired sigh, Taiga sits gingerly on one of the beds, the stiff mattress offering no give. Yugo claims the other bed without complaint. They exchange weary but optimistic smiles across the narrow divide.

“Get some rest, my friend,” Yugo encourages gently. “Something tells me we shall need our strength for whatever lies ahead.”

Taiga nods drowsily, eyelids already drooping with sudden fatigue. He curls atop the covers still dressed in his simple commoner’s garb. The bed is narrow and hard, the empty walls and porthole window unfamiliar.

Yet having his loyal friend nearby comforts Taiga. His mind continues spinning with questions about what awaits him in Lindblum, but eventually his exhaustion overrides the racing thoughts.

Surrounded by the creaks and groans of the airship, Taiga finally surrenders to sleep.

💙

Juri wakes with the sunrise, blinking the grogginess from his eyes. Despite only catching a few restless hours after yesterday’s eventful kidnapping mission, excitement still thrums through him at the thought of their royal guest aboard the Prima Vista.

Well, their royal guest and his guard dog. But anyway.

After washing up hastily, Juri makes his way up to the airship’s command deck. As expected, the controls sit unmanned, running on autopilot as they cruise smoothly southwest under Hokuto’s preplanned course. Can’t have Shintaro crashing them into a mountain peak when there’s breakfast to be made.

The savory scents of frying meat and freshly baked bread draw Juri toward the dining hall at the end of the passageway. He pauses in the doorway, leaning against the frame with arms crossed and a knowing grin tugging his lips.

Just as he predicted, Shintaro orbits Hokuto like a puppy as the slender boy works methodically at the stove, whisking eggs in a bowl. Shintaro appears largely oblivious to the actual cooking, focused instead on stealing kisses whenever Hokuto pauses over the sizzling pans.

Hokuto indulges him with a gentle smile, the two exchanging murmured words and laughter Juri can’t quite catch. His grin softens. Hard to believe the usually stoic planner can be so affectionate.

Sakura sits at the long dining table peeling potatoes with brisk efficiency, knife scraping rhythmically across the skins. She pauses to lift an eyebrow at Juri lingering in the doorway but says nothing to interrupt the lovers’ moment.

Clearing his throat, Juri finally announces his presence. “So what culinary delights are on today’s menu?”

“Juri!” Shintaro beams over at him. “We’re making omelets, bacon, potatoes …”

“And toast and fruit,” Hokuto finishes. “Nothing extravagant, but it should suffice.”

Juri’s mouth waters at the thought. “I’m sure our princely guest has never had such common fare. Will be an experience getting him to lower himself to eat it.” He keeps his tone light, but he can’t deny part of him takes vindictive pleasure imagining the pampered prince forced to stomach peasant food.

Sakura snorts derisively. “Why bother catering to Alexandria scum at all?” she grumbles. “We should put His Royal Highness to work if he wants special treatment.”

“Now, now.” Hokuto places a calming hand on her shoulder that keeps Sakura from pursuing her tirade. “We made a deal, regrettable as the additional risk may be. The prince came along willingly.”

“And King Kento paid us well for it, too,” Juri reminds her, patting the coin purse at his belt. Their payment for delivering Taiga had been generous, to say the least. The amount, even if split between the five of them, could have them retire from thievery well into their adulthood.

Sakura harrumphs but returns to her task without further complaint. An uncomfortable knot forms in Juri’s chest. He knows Sakura has more reason than most to hate the Alexandria elite, particularly the Kyomoto family. Still, the darkness in her eyes troubles him.

The heavy clomp of boots out in the passageway heralds a new arrival. Jesse strides in rubbing grit from his eyes, hair askew. “Please tell me I smell coffee,” he mumbles through a yawn.

Hokuto wordlessly fills a mug and passes it to Jesse. The hot drink works its magic, chasing away the last bleariness from his expression.

“So what’s the game plan with our royal passengers?” Jesse asks after a grateful gulp. “Can’t imagine we’ll all be best pals braiding each other’s hair.”

Despite himself, Juri briefly imagines just that scene. He has to admit, the prince did look lovely even while threatening them with a sword. Far too refined and elegant to fit in with their ragtag band, but pleasing to admire nonetheless …

He tunes back in to the conversation with a shake of his head.

“We’ll figure something out,” Hokuto says mildly. “For now, just ensure our heading remains steady southwest. We can decide how to occupy them once bellies are full.”

As if on cue, the thud of boots echoes down the passageway again, heralding two new arrivals to the galley. Juri glances over his shoulder, a teasing remark on his lips dying away unspoken.

Prince Taiga looks unfairly attractive even with mussed hair and eyes still heavy with sleep. The crystal pendant glints softly around his neck, drawing Juri’s gaze down the open collar of his rumpled tunic. Juri quickly averts his eyes, hoping no telltale heat rises in his cheeks.

Fortunately, Taiga seems oblivious, offering a shy “good morning” to the group at large. His constant shadow, Yugo, hovers behind, significantly less polite.

“I trust you vagabonds didn’t keep His Highness up all hours with your crude carousing,” he says imperiously. 

Jesse bristles, but Taiga lays a calming hand on his friend’s arm.

“It’s quite alright, Yugo,” he says gently. “I rested perfectly fine.” His lips quirk in a faint, rueful smile. “Far less comfortable than palace beds, I admit, but adequate enough.”

Yugo opens his mouth for what will undoubtedly be another complaint, but Jesse talks loudly over him. 

“Yeah, well, sorry His Majesty’s precious backside isn’t getting its usual feather down pillows and silken sheets. You’re on an airship now. We make do.” He crosses his arms challengingly.

Before Yugo can snap back, Taiga catches his attention again. “Let it be, Yugo. Our hosts have been more than fair.” He holds Jesse’s stare evenly. “Do not disparage their hospitality on my account.”

The two size each other up for a taut moment before Jesse huffs and turns away. “Yeah, alright, enough squabbling. Chow’s almost done anyway.”

An awkward silence falls until Hokuto efficiently diverts everyone’s attention to practical matters. “Sakura, the plates if you would. Shin, finish dicing that melon.”

Soon the galley fills with the clink of dishware and scrap of cutlery as everyone settles around the worn dining table. Juri winds up seated beside Taiga, acutely aware of the prince’s proximity. He catches a whiff of soap and sleep-warm skin and has to resist leaning closer.

When Hokuto sets a heaping plate of eggs, potatoes, and bacon before him, the alluring scent chases away any lingering distraction. Taiga blinks down at the simple fare, uncertainty flashing across his face so briefly Juri nearly misses it. But the prince schools his features and accepts utensils from Shintaro with a gracious dip of his head.

Conversation remains muted as everyone digs in eagerly. Taiga nibbles delicately at first, likely unaccustomed to such unrefined cuisine. But Juri notes with growing surprise that the doubtful pinch around his eyes smooths away after the first tentative bites. His pace quickens until he cleans his plate as readily as any of the thieves.

Catching Juri sideways glance, Taiga ducks his head almost shyly. “My compliments to the chef. I did not realize such simple ingredients could make such a splendid meal.”

For the first time since coming aboard, his smile appears fully genuine, free of its usual guarded restraint. The change lights up his delicate features and makes him breathe out a quiet, “oh,” of wonder. Juri’s never seen anything so lovely.

“Well, guess prissy royalty aren’t too good for common folk food after all,” Jesse remarks around a mouthful of bacon.

Taiga either ignores or doesn’t notice the gentle barb, captivated by the new experience of non-royal cuisine.

It’s unexpectedly … endearing.

Watching the guarded prince allow himself simple enjoyment of a humble meal, Juri feels his opinion shift. Perhaps their pampered guest has hidden depths beneath the courtly veneer. 

He finds himself suddenly eager to uncover more surprises Taiga may reveal if given the chance.

After breakfast winds down, Jesse catches Juri’s eye and beckons him over. Juri grabs one last strip of bacon before sauntering to his friend's side.

“So I was thinking His Royal Highness could make himself useful and help take stock of inventory,” Jesse says, keeping his voice low. “Would give us time to make sure they don’t go poking around restricted areas of the ship too.”

Juri raises an eyebrow. “What, you don’t want to give the prince orders yourself?”

Jesse waves a hand airily. “A good leader delegates. Besides …” A sly grin tugs his lips. “Gives you a chance at some alone time with your little crush.”

Heat floods Juri’s face as he elbows Jesse in the ribs. “Shove off. It’s not like that.”

“Uh huh, sure,” Jesse snorts, utterly unconvinced.

Juri scrubs a hand down his burning cheek, glancing across the room to where Taiga sits chatting quietly with Yugo. That crystal pendant glints softly around Taiga’s throat, momentarily distracting Juri with thoughts of what the smooth skin beneath it must feel like.

He forces his attention back to Jesse. “What about the grouchy bodyguard? Can’t see him letting the prince wander off alone.”

Jesse shrugs, unconcerned. “I’ll keep Prince Charmless occupied. You focus on being charming yourself.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Juri aims another elbow jab at him, but Jesse dances out of reach with a laugh. “Fine, fine, I’ll take care of it!”

Still chuckling to himself, Jesse saunters over to the other side of the table and drops into the seat beside Yugo. Juri can’t hear what he says over the clatter of dishes being cleared, but it makes Yugo glare and snap something in response. Jesse’s easy grin doesn’t falter, though, and soon he’s steering a protesting Yugo out into the passageway.

Taiga watches them go in surprise before his gaze darts questioningly to Juri.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Juri rubs the back of his neck. “So, uh, we should probably take stock of the cargo. Make sure nothing got knocked loose during the heist, you know?”

Taiga considers for a moment then nods, standing gracefully. “A wise precaution. Please lead the way.”

Juri busies himself tamping down his eagerness as he guides Taiga through the Prima Vista’s narrow passages toward the storage holds. He quickly summarizes the process — taking inventory, checking for damage, reorganizing space. Simple enough tasks, though decidedly lacking the luster of royal duties.

But Taiga listens attentively to each explanation without complaint. And once among the crates and barrels, he sets dutifully to work assisting.

They progress in near silence for some time, broken only by Juri calling out item names and Taiga confirming quantities. The prince moves carefully but without hesitation, proving unexpectedly adaptable to physical labor.

As they shift some crates around to better categorize contents, Juri’s curiosity gets the better of him.

“So, uh, you seem to be taking all this pretty well,” he remarks, hefting a crate of dried fruits onto a higher shelf. “Being ‘kidnapped’ by thieves, made to eat peasant swill, sorting cargo …” He pauses his efforts to glance at Taiga appraisingly. “Not what I’d expect from a pampered royal.”

Taiga huffs a small laugh as he sets down a catalogue folio. “Believe me, this entire ordeal has me quite out of my depth.” He meets Juri’s gaze, a hint of vulnerability in his tired smile that makes Juri's breath catch unexpectedly. “But I committed to this journey knowing nothing about the world beyond my castle. Did not think that would change overnight just because I am outside its walls. So, I will adapt where I can and learn where I cannot.” Taiga shrugs lightly before tugging the folio back into his hands, a hint of pink touching his fair cheeks. “Besides, if not for your interception, I would likely be stumbling through this alone instead of with King Kento’s experienced agents to … guide me.”

The faintest emphasis on “guide” makes it sound suspiciously like “save.” Juri bites back a teasing grin, oddly charmed by the prince’s subtle admission he needs their help, even if his posh vocabulary won't outright allow such a statement.

“Well, lucky for you we came along then, huh?” He says it lightly, but holds Taiga’s gaze meaningfully for a heartbeat too long.

Taiga’s throat bobs on a hard swallow. He starts to reply, but a loud metallic bang cuts him off. One of the less secured crates on a high shelf lurches violently sideways.

Juri reacts on pure instinct. He lunges across the small space and tackles Taiga down, shielding the prince’s body with his own. The crate crashes loudly mere inches from where they fall.

For several racing heartbeats, Juri simply breathes hard, body thrumming with adrenaline. Taiga lays very still beneath him until a soft clearing of his throat reminds Juri how closely they're pressed together.

He lifts himself up hastily on one elbow. Taiga’s wide eyes seem even darker framed by his mussed hair, cheeks endearingly flushed.

“You alright?” Juri asks, voice dropping to a rougher timbre.

Taiga nods, lips parted though no sound emerges. His tongue darts out to wet them unconsciously. Juri tracks the movement, nerves sparking as their faces hover mere inches apart.

Abruptly, Taiga braces his palms against Juri’s chest and pushes himself into a sitting position, nearly cracking their heads together in his haste.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—Thank you for—" Taiga stammers, clearly flustered. He scrubs a hand agitatedly through the fringe of his hair before regaining some composure. “Thank you for your quick reflexes,” he says more evenly, though a crease of confusion remains between his brows. “And for shielding me from potential harm.”

Juri wavers, torn between wishing the moment could have stretched longer or cursing himself for letting it happen at all. This pampered prince is so far out of his league … but damn, if his lips didn’t look inviting parted in surprise like that.

He clears his throat gruffly and moves to help pick up the spilled cargo. “Yeah well, wasn’t gonna let you get crunched to bits your first day here. Good reflexes are essential for a rogue like me.”

His cocky grin feels forced, but the hint of admiration Taiga regards him with again soothes Juri’s rattled nerves.

And if their fingers perhaps brush together more often than strictly necessary while restoring order to the storage room, well, he can only blame the fickle whims of fate …

🩷

Taiga sinks gratefully onto the narrow bed in the cabin he shares with Yugo, the thin mattress offering little give beneath his weight. After a long day filled with one menial task after another, exhaustion seeps into his muscles. He had risen early, determined to prove himself useful aboard the Prima Vista despite his pampered upbringing.

Jesse seemed only too happy to provide a myriad of chores to keep the prince occupied. Most were administrative in nature — cataloguing the cargo manifest, taking stock of provisions, updating the duty roster. Hardly thrilling work, but necessary nonetheless.

By late afternoon, when Taiga finished the paperwork, he found himself wandering the corridors in search of further ways to assist the unusual crew that now transports him towards answers about his mysterious origins.

He eventually came across Shintaro struggling to scrub accumulated grime and soot from the narrow spaces between pipes in the engine room. Eager for any distraction from his restless thoughts, Taiga wordlessly grabbed a spare brush and set to work alongside the exuberant mechanic.

Shintaro’s grin at having an extra set of hands to expedite the tedious task sparked an unexpected warmth in Taiga’s chest. The thieves may be odd and unpredictable, but their easy acceptance soothes his lingering worries over upending his rigid royal routines so suddenly.

Taiga smiles faintly at the memory, rubbing a smudge of engine grease still staining the back of his hand. The day brought more intensive physical labor than his sheltered life ever demanded, yet the tired ache in his muscles carries a certain satisfying edge. At least he contributed meaningful effort here rather than just smiling blandly through endless formal receptions.

The heavy clunk of boots draws Taiga’s gaze to the cabin door just as it swings open. Yugo trudges in, fatigue weighing down his broad shoulders. Despite shedding his formal jacket and rolling up his shirtsleeves hours ago, sweat still gleams at his temples as he collapses onto the opposite bed with a groan.

“Rough day?” Taiga asks, sympathetic amusement curling his lips.

Yugo scrubs both hands down his face with another grumble. “I’ve endured military drills less taxing than whatever Jesse concocted for me today. I’m convinced he invented half those tasks just to torment me.”

Taiga bites back a teasing remark about the benefits of humble work, instead offering a consoling pat to Yugo’s knee. “His watchful gaze does seem to trail you more than most.”

“The rogue holds a grudge after our initial confrontation, I’d wager,” Yugo sniffs, pride still smarting at the memory of Jesse getting the drop on him.

Taiga hums noncommittally, less convinced of Jesse’s petty motivations but opting not to challenge Yugo’s perceptions. “At least your skill set aligns with the regular upkeep of an airship,” he says. “Whereas I fear my talents for diplomacy and mediation are of little use to our hosts.”

“They simply recognize the need to safeguard Your Highness, even if their methods are rather unorthodox.” The corner of Yugo’s mouth quirks up briefly. “I will admit, you seem to have adapted decently well to life abroad this vessel. Far better than I anticipated.”

Warmth touches Taiga’s cheeks at the inadvertent praise. He ducks his head, abashed. “I hardly deserve such compliments for merely pitching in where needed. Although …” He worries his lower lip between his teeth. “I cannot deny this glimpse of freedom beyond the castle walls stirs something restless in my blood.” Taiga meets Yugo’s dark gaze, the fire of adventure putting a zealous gleam in his own despite the fatigue sagging his frame. “Never could I have imagined finding such fulfillment in menial duties. Whether due to the tasks themselves or because …”

He trails off uncertainly, throat tightening around the enormous admission hovering on his tongue — that with the revelation he is not the true Crown Prince, Taiga feels suddenly unmoored from the shackles of royal responsibility for the first time. That a world of possibility stretches before him now, no longer confined solely to the narrow duties of one born to rule.

Yugo’s stern features soften with understanding regardless, and Taiga wonders if he reads the truth plainly on his face. Neither speak of it directly, however. The uncertainty still feels too raw, too overwhelming to be parsed so plainly even in trusted company.

Instead, Yugo squeezes Taiga’s shoulder, a silent bolster before his next words bring levity. “Just don’t let this new enthusiasm allow Jesse to continue overworking you. The scoundrel seems to think manual labor builds character.” Scorn drips from each word. “I’ll be having strong words with him about delegating the more taxing duties to me while you catalogue vegetables or some nonsense.”

Taiga barks a surprised laugh. “Come now, I doubt Jesse takes orders from you any more than you do him.” He pats Yugo's hand consolingly. “But I shall express your grievances to him, if you like. Politely, of course.” Mischief glints in Taiga’s tired smile. “With my diplomatic skills, perhaps I can persuade him to lighten your load.”

Yugo harrumphs, pride clearly smarting at the thought of the prince intervening on his behalf. But the prospect of reprieve from grueling tasks must outweigh his embarrassment. “Very well, you can make the request.” He scrubs both hands over his face again, weariness etched in every line. “I may strangle our illustrious leader otherwise, truce or no. The rogue vexes me as none other.”

Taiga wisely smothers a smile at Yugo’s biting assessment of Jesse. Clearly, the thief captain will remain in Yugo’s black graces regardless of his diplomatic efforts. He opens his mouth to gently suggest they both get an early night’s rest, but a wide yawn cracks his jaw instead. Taiga shakes his head ruefully. “Apologies, my friend. Today’s labors seem to have drained me more thoroughly than anticipated.”

Yugo waves off the unnecessary courtesy and rises to douse the cabin’s guttering lantern wick. “Indeed, sleep may be the wisest course before you nod off mid-sentence.” Fondness warms his teasing tone. “I dare say you’ve earned a night’s full rest after the unfamiliar rigors of an honest day's work.”

Too tired to do more than huff at the good-natured barb, Taiga curls atop the bedcovers still dressed in his rumpled tunic. The thin mattress offers little comfort, but having Yugo’s familiar presence nearby helps sleep come easier. His eyes slip closed to the soft sounds of Yugo settling wearily onto his own cot and the ever-present creak and groan of the airship timbers.

Some undefinable amount of time later, Taiga jerks awake, heart racing as phantom screams echo in his ears. Cold sweat slicks his skin despite the blankets tangled around his legs. Disoriented, he pushes up on one elbow, squinting against darkness broken only by a sliver of moonlight through the porthole window.

The cabin. He’s aboard the Prima Vista still, miles above the landscape stealthily sliding by below. Of course. Just another dream full of fire and anguish.

With a shaky breath, Taiga scrubs both hands over his face then back through his disheveled hair. Experience warns him further rest will not return easily tonight until the haunting images release their grasp. Careful not to disturb Yugo's steady breathing in the other cot, Taiga slips silently out the door into the passageway beyond.

The lamps burn low at this hour, casting the narrow corridor in shifting shadow. Taiga makes his way forward by memory and feel alone. His thoughts drift back to the already fading nightmare as he walks — heat searing his skin, screams tearing the air, the roar of a vicious blaze muffling pleas for mercy …

Taiga shivers, sickly sweat prickling the back of his neck again beneath the remembered anguish. Why does such vivid suffering plague his dreams so often? Waking or asleep, no peace comes, it seems.

The sharp upward slant of the passage guides him absently to the Prima Vista’s upper deck. Better to feel open air on his face, to remind himself the stench of smoke and iron-sharp tang of blood exist only inside his restless mind. Taiga lays a palm on the weathered door at the end of the corridor, prepared to slip out into the dark stillness beyond.

He pauses as hushed voices reach his ears instead — the rise and fall of terse conversation between two speakers. Taiga hesitates, debating whether to announce himself or wait for a lull. But his hand jerks back swiftly from the door as the next fierce whisper shreds the quiet.

“—be so blinded by your infatuation?” A female voice, low and scathing. Sakura. “Have you forgotten what Kyomoto royalty is capable of?”

A hesitation, then Juri’s sleep-roughened tenor replies softly. “We all lost loved ones to the war, Sakura. But Taiga is different …”

“He is one of them!” Sakura snarls, volume rising. “His father committed genocide against my people. My family, hunted for sport!”

Taiga’s breath stalls, fist pressed hard over his racing heart. He strains to hear Juri’s soft counterargument affirming Taiga’s innocence, but blood roars deafeningly in his ears. His knees wobble, forcing him to lean heavily into the wall.

Genocide. His father … and by association, Taiga himself is complicit.

Before he can wrestle the tempest swirling in his chest back under control, his shoulder slides down the wall. Taiga pitches forward, feet tangling together, sending him sprawling awkwardly across the threshold onto the open deck with a muffled yelp.

Sakura and Juri whirl toward the interruption, argument dying on their lips. Taiga braces himself on hands and knees, peering up at them with wide, dismayed eyes.

“Apologies, I did not mean to intrude,” he rasps, mortification and anguish strangling his voice. “I only sought fresh air, not to overhear what was clearly a private discussion.”

Sakura’s lip curls derisively, though her expressive eyes glitter with something vulnerable beneath the scorn. “How much did you hear, Your Highness?” She imbues the title with bitter mockery.

Before Taiga can formulate another broken apology or entreating question, Juri steps forward, features creased in concern. He extends a hand to help Taiga rise. “Hey, are you alright? No harm done, yeah?”

Despite the kindness softening Juri’s sleep-mussed features, Taiga cannot bring himself to meet that steady gaze or accept the proffered hand. Not when the metaphorical blood of countless innocents now stains Taiga’s own by the sins of his forebearers.

He pushes slowly to his feet alone, swaying slightly with the restless motion of the airship. Wrapping his arms around his middle as if to hold himself together, Taiga finally drags his eyes up to Sakura’s accusing face.

“Your tribe,” he whispers hoarsely. “They were exterminated on royal decree?”

Jaw tight, Sakura gives one sharp nod. Her crossed arms and white-knuckled grip on her biceps betray lingering pain beneath the outward rage.

When she speaks again at last, her voice drips venom. “I was but new in my mother’s womb when Alexandria razed our village, chasing down and slaughtering every last man, woman, and child they could find. All because they dared wield magic beyond the sanction of the king.”

She spits the last words with pure loathing before visibly wrestling back control. Sakura pins Taiga with a piercing look. “My family were fortunate to have escaped with some elders, but I lost my older brother. And we are the last now. Forced into the shadows, our gifts and heritage stripped away.”

When she falls silent again, Taiga can only stare helplessly, her suffering battering against his spirit as cruelly as the winter wind whipping across the open deck. He longs to crumple beneath the immeasurable weight of her grief, but somehow remains upright under her blistering expectant look.

“I …” Words lodge painfully in his throat, woefully inadequate. Taiga swallows hard, ashamed by the tears blurring his vision. He dashes them away with the back of one hand.

“No apology could ever stand sufficient,” he finally whispers. “Such profound suffering inflicted by the crown I am bound to inherit …” Helpless frustration wells up, creasing Taiga’s brow. “I swear I knew nothing of these atrocities before today. But such ignorance only deepens my shame.”

He meets Sakura’s stare beseechingly even as she takes an unconscious step back from his outstretched hand. “I cannot condone this, any of it! Since learning my own ... origins, I have questioned everything about my father’s motivations in expanding his borders.” Taiga’s nails bite sharply into his palms with the effort to keep his voice even. “If what you say is true — and I do not doubt your account — then I have blood on my hands by virtue of my own bloodline.” The admission saps what little strength remains in his limbs. Taiga sags back against the doorway. “There is nothing I can say or do now to undo the suffering my family has wrought upon yours.” 

The words settle heavily between them, the ensuing silence filled only by the groan of timber and flap of wind-caught canvas overhead. Sakura holds herself apart, features still carved from stone. But a crease between her brows speaks to warring emotions.

Juri steps tentatively forward, breaking the fraught pause. “Sakura,” he entreats gently. “The sins of the father should not be carried by the son. His Highness seeks reconciliation between kingdoms, you know this.” He touches her arm lightly. “Would more suffering put right the past?”

Sakura’s stony facade finally cracks, fury bleeding back to profound sorrow. Her next ragged breath shudders wetly. “The guilty can never comprehend true suffering,” she grits out. But the heated words lack the previous venom.

Swallowing thickly, Taiga firms his resolve. “Then help me comprehend it.” He meets her startled glance and forges ahead before she can withdraw further behind defensive ire. “We have a shared destination in Lindblum. I know my royal name carries a legacy of suffering for your people. But perhaps in our time together aboard this ship, understanding may yet bloom.” Cautious optimism swells tentatively in Taiga’s chest even as he braces for her rebuttal.

But Sakura remains mute, staring at him with eyes more wounded now than hostile.

Taiga offers a tremulous, conciliatory smile. “I have already benefited greatly from seeing more of how common folk live on our journey thus far. Your perspective would prove invaluable …”

When she stays silent, Taiga ducks his head, abashed by his own audacity. “Forgive me, I do not mean to presume or cause further upset. The night has me shaken.” He passes a hand wearily across his eyes. The fires from his dream seem to linger still in his vision. “I only wish for peace between my kingdom and yours, Sakura. But I understand any trust between us must be earned, not demanded.”

The vulnerable entreaty seems to diffuse the last of her defensive fury at last. Sakura studies his haggard features before skirting carefully around him with a muttered “Excuse me.” She disappears swiftly down the passageway without so much as a glance behind, back held rigidly upright.

Taiga sags more fully against the door frame as she departs, all remaining strength bleeding out of him. He should return to bed himself before he simply collapses on the spot. But shame and despair root him in place even as his vision blurs dangerously with exhaustion.

A light touch against his shoulder rouses Taiga from his spiraling fugue. He blinks sluggishly at Juri now standing before him, features creased in concern.

“You really should rest, His Highness,” he murmurs. “Here, let me …”

Juri slides a cautious hand beneath Taiga’s elbow. When he doesn’t immediately pull away again, Juri gently guides him toward the passage leading belowdecks.

Each step takes enormous effort, muscles leaden with sickly revelation. Taiga focuses only on placing one foot in front of the other, trusting Juri to keep him from pitching headlong down the steep stairs.

Somehow, they make it back to the cabin where Yugo remains mercifully unconscious, if the soft snores audible as soon as Juri eases open the door serve as any indication. Taiga collapses on boneless legs to perch on the edge of his cot, head bowed beneath the still recent revelations swirling relentlessly through his mind. He dimly hears the door latch quietly followed by Juri’s soft tread crossing the few feet between them.

When the thief speaks, his voice is hushed with sympathy in deference to the late hour and Yugo slumbering undisturbed nearby. “I know you carry the weight of your father’s legacy heavily,” Juri murmurs. “But his sins died with those he slaughtered in war. Their blood marks his name, not yours.”

Taiga shakes his head without lifting his downcast eyes from the floor. “I should have known,” he rasps thickly. “Should have seen the darkness festering beneath the opulence of court.” He knots both hands tightly in his hair. “Now her family faces extinction because mine sought to destroy any rivals to their power.”

The cot dips slightly as Juri perches gingerly beside him, close but carefully not touching. “You couldn’t have known," he insists gently. “The king made every effort to erase the summoners’ history. The royal circle is comprised of secrets and lies. But you can’t inherit guilt from those gone before you, only the responsibility to do better.” He ducks his head, seeking Taiga’s downcast eyes. “You already fight against perpetuating such tyranny by seeking answers in Lindblum. That’s what matters.”

Eventually, Juri leaves him, bidding him goodnight.

In the ensuing stillness, Taiga waits motionless for long strained minutes, listening for any sign he disturbed Yugo’s rest. But his friend’s slow steady breathing never falters. Small mercies, at least.

He keeps seeing Sakura’s anguished eyes, his father’s cruel ambitions, the lingering phantom screams echoing in his ears.

No light or compassion stands sufficient to absolve the bloody legacy he now bears as heir to Alexandria’s throne.

💙

The mood over breakfast is decidedly grim, the usually raucous thieves subdued as they pick at their food. Juri doesn’t have to glance far to determine why. Across the long table, Sakura sits stone-faced, stubbornly avoiding looking anywhere near Taiga. The prince keeps his gaze downcast as well, shoulders hunched beneath some invisible weight.

Yugo sits rigidly upright beside Taiga, concern etched into the creases of his brow as he nudges a plate of untouched food closer. “You should eat, Highness,” he urges quietly. “It will do you little good to starve.”

When Taiga only shakes his head, staring fixedly at a knot in the wooden tabletop, Yugo presses his lips into a tight line. He opens his mouth to push further, but Jesse intervenes.

“Can’t force it if he’s got no appetite,” the Tantalus leader remarks mildly around a bite of bread. “Trust me, once he gets famished enough, princely palate or no, he’ll be begging for a bite of Shintaro’s famous mystery stew.”

His weak attempt at diffusing the tension pulls a small grin from Shintaro. “Hey, my cooking’s way better than mystery slop!” The boy puffs out his chest proudly. “If His Highness is gonna refuse real food, more for us.”

Hokuto gently places a staying hand on his arm before Shintaro can grab Taiga’s abandoned plate. “Let’s leave him in peace for now,” he says quietly but firmly.

Shintaro subsides with a grumble, though his smile returns swiftly when Hokuto brushes an affectionate knuckle along his cheek.

Juri’s own lips quirk. Hard not to be swayed by Shintaro’s enthusiasm or Hokuto's tranquil surety. He wishes some of their buoyant spirit would rub off on the brooding prince and the furious summoner.

From beneath lowered lashes, Juri chances a direct glance at Taiga. The dark smudges beneath his eyes speak of a largely sleepless night. Faint tremors shake his slender frame. The meager breakfast remains untouched still, and Juri suspects concern for Taiga’s health isn’t misplaced.

Before he can think better of it, Juri reaches out to rest gentle fingers atop Taiga’s wrist where it lays clenched on the table. “Please, just a few bites?” he entreats softly. “It’ll steady you at least.”

Yugo’s eyebrows shoot upward in surprise at the familiar contact. But Taiga doesn’t pull away, instead finally lifting those mournful eyes to meet Juri’s worried gaze. Something dangerously close to sweet affection swells beneath Juri’s breastbone.

But the moment stretches too long, and across the table, Sakura makes a disgusted noise low in her throat. She pushes back from the table roughly and stalks from the room without a backwards glance. The galley descends back into uncomfortable silence.

Juri sighs, retracting his hand from Taiga’s wrist with a reluctant pang. Before he can think of anything to say to alleviate the renewed tension, Taiga abruptly stands as well on visibly unsteady legs.

“I should let you all finish breakfast in peace,” he murmurs, the words barely audible. “Please excuse me.” Keeping his gaze averted from the puzzled looks following his departure, Taiga slips from the room.

Yugo makes to follow, halfway out of his seat before Captain Jesse lifts a staying hand. “Let him go, pal,” Jesse says quietly. “Sometimes a guy just needs to be alone with his thoughts.”

The guard captain’s jaw tightens angrily, but at Jesse’s calm stare, the fight bleeds from Yugo’s frame. He slowly sinks back down, features clouded with concern and banked frustration.

The remaining thieves pick at their plates awhile longer, any earlier banter thoroughly quelled. But the silence turns oppressive, so eventually Jesse clears his throat. “Right, best finish up. We got that supply run planned, remember?”

Juri catches Hokuto and Shintaro sharing a private smile before Shintaro digs enthusiastically back into his meal and Hokuto rises to clear the dishes. No chance of dampening that boy’s spirit at least.

Jesse helps tidy the galley, nudging a visibly disgruntled Yugo along with the task despite his glower.

Before long, Hokuto spreads their charts and trajectories across the airship console, all business once more. “We remain on course to reach the Burmecian Highlands by dusk,” he reports briskly. “The capital city of Burmecia will have all needed supplies to replenish our crystals and stock provisions. We should easily make the return flight by nightfall.”

“Yeah!” Shintaro bursts out, bouncing eagerly beside Hokuto. “Maybe they got new gadgets for sale at the markets. Ooh, or I bet we find some neat knives for you this time!”

No doubt remains where the boy’s enthusiasm flows as he gazes adoringly up at his partner. Hokuto allows a fond chuckle, hand coming to rest naturally at the small of Shintaro’s back. He leans in close to murmur something softly meant only for Shintaro's ear, and the mechanic flushes pleasantly.

Watching their easy affection makes Juri’s thoughts circle back to Taiga despite himself. Is the troubled prince still keeping to himself elsewhere on the ship? He tunes back into the conversation reluctantly, hoping for some subtle opportunity to slip away unnoticed.

But Jesse’s speculative stare finds his, and Juri knows he failed hiding where his attention drifted.

“I can handle meeting our contacts alone,” Jesse remarks. “You should stick around just in case our royal guests get restless.”

His pointed look brokers no argument. Juri swallows down a petty retort, recognizing the wisdom in having numbers to mind their unpredictable charges.

“Sure, no problem,” he forces out through a careless grin. Can’t let resentment show too plainly, not wanting to test their loyalty. Still, Jesse didn’t need to make it quite so obvious this assignment is meant as punishment for Juri’s perceived overinvestment in the prince. Stung pride prickles down his spine.

Oblivious to the silent tension, Shintaro turns eager eyes on Hokuto next. “We’ll bring back the shiniest little blades for you, I promise!” He smiles winningly, so much youthful devotion shining through.

Hokuto chuckles, warm and deep, the sound at odds with his usually reserved mien. He indulges Shintaro with a swift kiss, heedless of present company. “I look forward to admiring your spoils then.”

Shintaro flushes again, dopey smile firmly in place. The casual endearment never fails to turn the rambunctious boy pliant. Jesse mimes retching before laughs and good-natured shoves chase the lovers towards grabbing their gear. The darkness brewing in Juri’s mood lifts somewhat watching their antics. However unwelcome his assignment, at least time with Taiga carries its own appeal.

The levity fades too soon though as Sakura stalks back in, already outfitted for departure. Her flinty expression dares anyone to comment. But the rigid set of her shoulders betrays lingering upset from breakfast.

Juri steps forward cautiously. “Hey, I know tensions are high lately, but just … try not to stir up too much trouble in the city, alright?” He aims for a teasing tone, but it falls flat even to him.

Sakura pins him with an icy look. “We all have our roles to play,” she clips out cryptically.

Before Juri can decipher her meaning, Jesse calls for everyone’s attention. “Let’s move out!”

Hokuto steers Sakura gently towards the gangplank leading out. Jesse falls in behind. Their laughter rings out across the empty fields stretching below the grounded Prima Vista.

Soon, the three figures disappear towards the distant city shimmering in the mid-morning sunlight. Juri sighs, suddenly lonely. He startles when Yugo speaks unexpectedly close behind him.

“Where has His Highness sequestered himself?” Worry keeps the guard captain’s usual imperiousness at bay. His dark eyes scan the empty deck before settling on Juri.

Throat oddly tight, Juri nods towards the hatch leading below. “Think he needed time alone. Probably best not to hover too close."”

Yugo frowns, clearly biting back sharp rebuttal. He draws a slow breath instead. “Yes, well … Please inform the prince I await his convenience if needed.” Curt words notwithstanding, naked concern radiates from him.

Clearly, the man struggles accepting his helplessness to directly aid Taiga now in the wake of last night’s confrontation. Sympathy swells unexpectedly beneath Juri’s breastbone.

“Actually, uh …” He fumbles for words under Yugo’s surprised glance. “I’ll just poke my head in, make sure His Highness doesn’t need anything. But I won’t disturb him otherwise.”

Yugo studies him a moment, features unreadable. “Very well,” he finally accedes gruffly. “I will … keep occupied elsewhere then.”

He turns sharply on his heel before Juri can decipher his shuttered expression. Bemused but grateful for the excuse, Juri watches Yugo disappear towards the engine rooms below. Now to seek out the hiding prince without intruding too much …

Juri finds no sign of Taiga in the common areas or sleeping quarters. He pauses outside a storage hold, though, catching the faint hint of movement beyond the scarred wood.

Careful not to startle, Juri eases the door open slowly. Inside, Taiga paces the narrow confines between the crates and barrels, movements jerky with poorly contained distress. He doesn’t seem to notice Juri lingering in the entrance.

“Your Highness?”

Juri keeps his voice low, but Taiga still flinches. He scrubs both hands roughly over his face before looking up, clearly trying and failing to smooth away the utter anguish writ plain across his drawn features.

“Apologies, I did not hear you arrive,” Taiga says hoarsely. He wraps both arms around his middle as though physically pained. “Did you … need something from in here?”

Juri shakes his head gently. His fingers itch with the need to offer some comforting touch, futile as the gesture may prove. “Just wanted to see how you were holding up. After everything …” He trails off helplessly.

A wounded noise tears from Taiga’s throat. He turns away, shoulders hunching further. “I hardly know anymore,” comes the choked confession. “It is abundantly clear my father’s legacy haunts far more than the royal court.”

Slowly, unable to stop himself, Juri crosses the tiny room to lean against the crates beside Taiga. Not quite touching, but achingly close.

Taiga doesn’t shy from his nearness.

They stand in heavy silence awhile before Taiga drags in a quavering breath. “Your family,” he rasps, still not meeting Juri’s eye. “Truthfully now … Did my father’s warmongering reach them, too?”

Juri sucks in a surprised breath. He hadn’t planned on dredging up old pains today. But the quiet entreaty in Taiga’s voice sways him.

“I … lost my father in the offensive against Cleyra,” he admits softly, throat tight. “He was a farmer, but when Alexandria invaded, every able-bodied man took up arms alongside the King’s soldiers to defend our homes.”

Bitterness creeps in despite Juri’s attempts to temper it. “We were a peaceful people, no threat to Alexandria’s ambitions.” He looks down, blinking fiercely against useless tears. “The Cleyran line was crushed, the king killed. Those who didn’t swear fealty to Alexandria fled to darker parts of the forest to rebuild in secret. So yeah … your father’s greed destroyed my family too.”

He hazards a glance to find Taiga watching him intently through a shimmering veil of his own tears. His slender hand hovers hesitantly between them for an endless moment before coming to rest feather-light atop Juri’s wrist. Such a cautious touch, as though fearing his comfort could somehow make things worse.

But Juri turns his palm upward blindly to link their fingers instead, squeezing gratefully. Taiga’s next breath shudders out wetly.

“My family has so much blood on its hands,” Taiga whispers, devastation cracking his soft voice. His fingers tighten convulsively around Juri’s. “I cannot ever hope to make amends for my father’s sins. But please believe me when I say his ambitions are not my own.” He meets Juri’s gaze again beseechingly. “I never wished for innocents like your family to suffer for his greed.”

Despite everything, Juri finds himself gently cupping Taiga’s cheek, brushing away the streak of a tear with his thumb. “Hey now, I know you didn’t want that,” he murmurs thickly. “Wasn’t ever your responsibility.”

Taiga sighs, eyes slipping closed as he seems to subconsciously lean into Juri’s palm for meager comfort. Their joined hands lower to hang between them, still loosely entwined.

Juri knows he should step back, should rebuild the necessary walls between Alexandria’s heir and a peasant thief. But he cannot make himself drop his hand from Taiga’s tear-tracked cheek.

As more silence spins out, Taiga’s dark lashes flutter open again. He searches Juri’s face with open longing that steals his breath. “Why do you offer me such kindness?” His whisper wavers uncertainly. “By rights, you should despise my entire line.”

Heart aching, Juri strokes his thumb gently over Taiga’s cheekbone once more. “Maybe I’m just tired of resentment,” he admits thickly. “And maybe ... I think you could be different than the rest when your time comes.” Taiga’s eyes widen, but Juri forges ahead on the wings of fragile hope. “I saw how eager you were to connect with King Kento, to guide kingdoms toward reconciliation.”

He offers a tremulous smile. “Reminded me of my father leaving to join the Cleyran guard with dreams of peace in his heart.” Juri ducks his head with an abashed little shrug. “Suppose I’m just willing to give you a chance.”

When he glances up shyly through his lashes, Taiga gazes back reverently. Fresh tears slip free to wet his dusky lashes. “You place too much faith in me,” Taiga chokes out. “I am not the man you believe I am.”

He steps back swiftly as though burned, hand falling from Juri’s loose grasp. The loss of contact leaves Juri bereft, nerves jangling at Taiga’s cryptic distress. He watches helplessly as Taiga scrubs both hands roughly over his face again, clearly wrestling some internal demon.

“I am not truly a Kyomoto at all.” The anguished confession spills forth in a rush. “The king and queen adopted me as an infant in the wake of their true son’s death. They conveniently found me washed ashore. I am naught but a peasant replacement groomed to inherit a legacy rightfully meant for another.”

Taiga’s chest heaves beneath the weighty revelations, but his eyes lift tentatively, perhaps gauging Juri’s reaction.

All Juri can do is stare dumbly as long seconds trickle by. Until abruptly, surprising laughter bubbles up in his throat.

Taiga startles at the borderline hysterical sound. “Juri? Have I broken you?” Wary concern wars with lingering misery across his face.

That only makes another slightly unhinged giggle slip free. Juri shakes his head, willing his mirth back under control. “No, no! That’s not—I just—" He scrubs both hands down his cheeks, smiling helplessly. “I don’t know, maybe the gods have a sense of humor after all.”

At Taiga’s baffled look, Juri expels a sharp breath and tries again. “What I mean is, the man with the best chance of saving Alexandria from its bloody history is the one guy with no true royal blood.” He barks another laugh, giddy excitement swelling. “It’s perfect!”

Taiga gapes, clearly lost.

Juri grabs his shoulder, enthused understanding overriding manners. “Don’t you see? This means you actually could change things without getting bound by all the archaic noble obligations. Alexandria needs someone tied to the people, not obsessed with power the way your lineage demands.”

He shakes Taiga gently, willing him to grasp this beautiful twist of fate. “The gods surely must have known. Why else would a nameless orphan find himself raised to be the next king?”

Disbelief wars with fragile hope in Taiga's expression. “Do … do you really believe one not born of Kyomoto blood could effectively rule Alexandria?” He whispers it like a fervent prayer, eyes searching Juri’s face anxiously.

Juri softens his too-bright grin, gentling his hold into something like an embrace instead. “Yeah. Yeah, Your Highness, I really do.” He ducks his head, suddenly self-conscious beneath that naked vulnerability. “Maybe you’re exactly the change Gaia needs.”

Taiga looks at Juri with dawning wonder, some of the bleakness fading from his eyes. He opens his mouth to respond, but a sudden clamor from above deck interrupts.

Shouting echoes down, followed by the unmistakable ring of steel. Taiga and Juri exchange an alarmed glance. In unspoken agreement, they hurry from the storage room toward the deck.

They emerge into startling chaos. Shintaro sprawls unmoving near the center of the deck, a dark bruise marring his temple. Yugo kneels several feet away, both hands bound behind his back, lip split and defiance burning in his glare.

Looming over him stands a powerfully built man in decorated Alexandrian armor. His stern face breaks into a cruel smile when he spots Taiga frozen at the top of the stairs.

“Lieutenant Yuma,” Taiga hisses. “He was stationed outside Alexandria for his behavior. He despises Yugo.”

Yugo surges furiously against his captor’s hold. “You bastard, release me!”

The armored man — Yuma — lands a sharp blow almost casually across Yugo’s jaw. “Silence! You’ve no rights left, traitor.”

Taiga makes to dart forward, but Juri grabs his wrist urgently. “Wait, you can’t let him see you!” he whispers. “It’s too dangerous.”

He tugs a reluctant Taiga back into the shadows of the stairwell. They watch helplessly as Yugo unleashes a torrent of curses against his captor.

Yuma smiles coldly. “All of Alexandria believes you abducted the prince. The King is now seeking for your head in exchange for a hefty reward.” He twists sharply on Yugo's bindings, making him hiss. “Now, be a good lad and tell us where you hid the prince.”

“Never!”

Yuma’s sharp eyes narrow. “Such a headache.” His lip curls derisively. “Search below deck just in case. But matter not if you find the princeling. We can come back after we’ve tortured this traitor.”

He nods sharply to one of his accompanying knights who promptly begins ransacking the ship, clearly searching for other stowaways.

Taiga clenches his fists helplessly while Juri pulls him back into the shadows, out of reach.

As the other knights stomp through the ship, Yuma circles Yugo like a vulture seeking prey. “Such a shame to see Alexandria’s once esteemed guard captain revealed as merely a jealous turncoat seeking stolen power.” He lashes out swiftly again when Yugo tries spitting at him, then nods in satisfaction as the fight bleeds from Yugo’s frame. “Worry not. Our soft-hearted king is like to show you mercy during sentencing. Can’t imagine he’ll stomach much cruelty to a man who he considers a good friend of his son.”

Soon enough the loud knight returns from below. “All clear, sir! No others found.”

Yuma nods. “Very well. Bring Kochi along. We will enjoy … playing with him.” He smirks coldly at Yugo's redoubled struggles.

At another bruising blow from Yuma’s mailed fist, Yugo slumps insensate between the two knights.

“Yugo!” Taiga lunges against Juri’s restraining grip with a strangled cry.

But the knights haul Yugo’s limp form off the airship deck unceremoniously.

Taiga collapses to his knees where Juri released him, chest heaving with desperate fury. His hands fist tightly in the loose material of Juri’s shirt as he stares beseechingly up at the equally dismayed thief.

“Why?” Taiga rasps faintly, eyes shining. “How did they find us out here …”

Before Juri can shape any sort of answer or useless comfort, another pained groan reminds them abruptly of Shintaro’s condition.

Taiga staggers to his feet and hurries to the boy's side.

“We must tend his wounds quickly,” he says shakily. “I fear one of the knights struck his head badly.”

Working in solemn silence, they carefully move Shintaro below deck to his quarters.

After checking him over for further injury and making him as comfortable as possible, Taiga collapses into a chair beside the cot. He drags both hands roughly through his hair, uncaring of the mess he makes of the silken locks. “What do we do now?” His haunted gaze bores into Juri’s, bereft and pleading. “Yugo is captive because of my foolishness …”

Heart aching for the unfairness of it all, Juri steps closer. He kneels before Taiga’s chair, covering both slender hands with his own broader palms.

Their eyes meet, two lost boys adrift without their anchors. But Taiga’s hands cling to his tightly, and Juri allows new purpose to steady his voice.

“We’ll figure this out,” he vows, low and fierce. “The others will be back by nightfall. Then we make a new plan and get Yugo back safe.”

Taiga’s breath hitches softly.

Eyes burning with conviction, Juri lifts one hand to brush feather-light knuckles along Taiga’s cheek. “I swear to you, everything will be alright.”

The tender promise hangs between them, all else fading to background noise. And when Taiga leans subtly into his touch, eyes slipping shut in naked relief, Juri can almost believe his words.

That somehow, despite forces working ruthlessly against them, he can still keep this one bright soul from plunging into despair.

🩷

Taiga sits vigil beside the narrow cot where Shintaro lies unconscious, features pale beneath the dark bruise marring his temple. Guilt gnaws at Taiga’s insides. Tantalus’ mechanic took this injury defending him from the Alexandrian knights. And somewhere out there, those same knights drag Yugo back in chains because of Taiga’s foolishness.

Yugo … Taiga swallows the lump in his throat. His dearest friend endures who knows what torment because Taiga brought him to this journey.

He forces steady breaths around the tightness in his chest. Any moment, the rest of the thieves will return from their supply run. Surely, together, they can formulate some plan to retrieve Yugo before he faces the king's punishment alone.

At last, the tromp of boots and voices sound from above deck. Taiga jumps up just as the cabin door swings open to admit Hokuto and Sakura.

Hokuto’s usual tranquil expression cracks at the sight of his battered lover. Wordless grief shines in his eyes as he crosses swiftly to the cot where Shintaro lies motionless.

“Shin …” Hokuto breathes. He hurries to the bedside, gently smoothing back sweat-dampened hair from Shintaro’s forehead. The unconscious boy doesn’t stir. Hokuto’s hand shakes faintly as he cups Shintaro’s bruised cheek with aching tenderness.

Sakura steps forward. “Hokuto, let me,” she says gently.

Hokuto nods to step aside and let Sakura in the remaining space by the bedside. Kneeling beside the cot, she passes a glowing palm over Shintaro’s injuries. Taiga watches in awe as the bruising fades away, leaving the mechanic’s face smooth and untroubled in rest.

Hokuto whispers ardent thanks, to which Sakura only nods brusquely before exiting the cabin. But Taiga notes the thief’s usual stoicism momentarily gives way to naked relief as he gazes down at his resting lover.

Quietly, Taiga retreats and seals the door behind him, leaving the two alone. He turns to find Sakura already disappearing towards the upper deck. With no other direction, Taiga trails after her.

He emerges from the hatchway into crisp twilight. Juri stands near the ship’s wheel peering out at the darkening landscape. He turns at their footsteps, tension bleeding from his frame as he takes in Taiga's unharmed state.

He finds Juri and Jesse already deep in tense conversation at the helm. Jesse scrubs a hand roughly over his hair, face drawn and serious for once. “Damn knights. We’re just lucky Shin didn’t get hurt that bad.”

Juri blows out a sharp breath, nodding. “No clue how they tracked us way out here either. Nothing about this situation feels right.”

“Your Highness.” Jesse turns at Taiga’s entrance, anger melting to sympathy. “Juri told me what went down. I’m real sorry about your retainer.”

Taiga’s throat tightens around imagined scenarios of what cruel fate now awaits his loyal friend. He firms his jaw, shoving the thoughts aside. Later. Focus on solutions now.

“Yugo will endure whatever torment they devise until I can free him.” Taiga keeps his voice steady through long practice masking courtly distress. “We must determine how to retrieve him with haste. I will not abandon my friend to undeserved punishment on my behalf.”

Jesse and Sakura exchange a skeptical look.

“Hey, no judgement, but that’s risky business, Highness,” Jesse says carefully. “City’s gonna be crawling with Alexandrian forces hunting you now that they got your companion hostage. We’d be better getting you safely to Lindblum first. I’m sure King Kento would be more than willing — and more equipped — to get your friend back.”

Frustration flares, but Taiga tamps it down. He understands their hesitation. These thieves owe him nothing, have already risked much spiriting him from the castle. Still ...

Spine straight, Taiga pins them both with his most authoritative royal stare. “I will make directly for Lindblum if you insist. But with Yugo. Either assist me in retrieving him, or I shall go there to retrieve him myself.” Desperation bleeds through the posturing at the end despite Taiga’s efforts.

The ensuing silence stretches taut. Jesse and Juri hold a silent conversation full of subtle tells and micro-expressions. Years of camaraderie lay bare between them.

In the end, Jesse scrubs both hands down his face with a muttered curse.

“Aw hell, when you put it that way ...” He sighs harshly, shaking his head. “Fine, we weren’t leaving you behind anyway. Gonna be hard to explain to King Kento that we got you then lost you. But no more surprises, got it? We get one shot at this so no running off half-cocked. Capisce?”

Relief sags Taiga’s frame even as he bristles at the borderline insubordinate tone from the rogue. He inclines his head in grudging agreement, nonetheless. “You have my word. Now, what say you of a strategy?”

Later, after a solemn meal spent finalizing the daring plan, Taiga picks at his leftover food, nerves stealing his appetite. He nearly jumps when Juri settles close beside him on the bench, thigh a line of warmth against his.

“We’ll get him back, you know,” Juri says softly. “Whatever it takes.”

Taiga searches Juri's steady gaze, finding only fierce determination there. He nods jerkily, the simple reassurance easing some nameless fear lurking within.

Tomorrow, they voyage into the unknown. But tonight, he focuses only on the steadfast support shining back at him from Juri’s dark eyes.

Crouched in the shadows of a crumbling stone wall, Taiga peers through the inky darkness toward the fortress-like structure looming ahead. The station of the Alexandrian knights stands ominously against the night sky, flickering torchlight at the battlements the only visible movement.

Jesse gestures silently to get Taiga’s attention, then taps his ear and points out at the open terrain separating their position from the side entrance Hokuto discovered earlier. Faint echoes of bootsteps sound from that direction — the changing of the guard patrol, as scheduled.

Beside him, Hokuto finishes briefing them on entry points and contingency plans, voice low but tone brooking no argument. “If anything goes awry, we retreat immediately with or without the hostage. No deviations, understand?”

His gaze lingers on Taiga until the prince dips his head in reluctant agreement. No matter Yugo’s peril, he knows these thieves risk everything venturing here tonight.

Once the footsteps fade, Hokuto nods decisively. “It’s time. Remember, stealth takes priority. Engage only if necessary.”

Jesse claps Taiga’s shoulder, flashing a reckless grin when he meets the prince’s anxious eyes. “Let’s get your friend. On your signal, Your Highness.”

Taiga takes a slow breath, hand coming to rest atop the crystal pendant beneath his tunic. For luck. For courage.

Drawing his sword, he gives the signal to attack.

Satisfied, Hokuto lifts a hand and gestures sharply. Like phantoms, the thieves melt from concealment amidst the jutting rocks and scraggly shrubs. Taiga trails swiftly behind Juri, his sword bumping softly between his shoulder blades with each light step.

Sakura breaks from the group as planned, striding openly down the hillside toward the pair of armored guards flanking the main gate. Taiga cranes his neck but only catches a glimpse of her throwing back her cloak before the bulk of the station swallows his view.

Moments later, though, a woman’s outraged screech shreds the night air. Juri grins fiercely over his shoulder. Right on cue.

Hokuto doesn’t hesitate, sprinting from cover with the rest close behind. He flings something at the wall near the gate as they rush past. An eruption of smoke engulfs the entrance, cutting off the startled shouts. By the time it clears, Taiga and the thieves have slipped unseen through the exterior door Hokuto unlocked earlier, nestled out of sight in the outer defenses.

They steal swiftly through the dim passageway, guided by scattered torch sconces. The halls bear crude stonework unlike Alexandria architecture. Taiga tampers down his questions for later. Getting to Yugo takes priority.

The clamor still echoing faintly from the distant courtyard provides welcome cover for their infiltration. But Taiga’s heart lodges itself in his throat when they turn down the last cramped staircase to the lower holding cells. This heist just became real.

Jesse pauses outside the barred door at the bottom, holding up a staying hand. Muffled voices filter through the thick wood — two … no, three separate men speaking. Juri presses an ear to the door, brows drawn in concentration. After a pause, he nods confirmation to Jesse, face grim.

On impulse, Taiga grabs Juri's sleeve, leaning in desperately close as his voice fails him.

But Jesse is already flinging the door wide. Chaos erupts inside.

Yugo hangs suspended between two broad-shouldered knights, arms wrenched brutally up behind his back. Blood stains his skin from numerous gashes marring his torso. Face swollen and purpling around one eye, Yugo nevertheless thrashes against his captor’s hold with what little strength remains.

“You bastard, I’ll see you hanged for such treason!” he spits furiously.

Across the cell, Lieutenant Yuma smiles coldly beneath the smudged warpaint distorting his stern features. “Still clinging to hollow nobility in your defeat? Pathetic.” He circles closer, each step precise and predatory. “But your suffering pleases me greatly. So tell me ...” Yuma stops toe to toe with Yugo, grabbing his chin harshly. “Where have you hidden pretty Prince Taiga?”

Yugo wrenches his head away with a snarl. “I’ll never tell you!”

Yuma punches Yugo’s face, and the two knights laugh darkly. Fresh rage burns away the icy fear in Taiga’s veins. He poses to charge recklessly into the room when Jesse's hand closes around his arm.

“Stick to the plan, Your Highness,” Jesse warns under his breath. “Wait for the signal.”

They make eye contact, Jesse’s expression brooking no argument. Taiga's shoulders slump, but he knows the rogue speaks wisdom.

Soon, smoke bombs sail through the windows, unleashing choking plumes that block the soldiers’ vision. Through the haze, Taiga glimpses Yuma whirling towards the interruption, sword sliding free with steely menace.

“Grave mistake, intruders,” the knight intones darkly.

In the cover of chaos, the thieves strike. Shintaro barrels past Taiga swinging his axe in a wide arc towards the larger knight restraining Yugo. The knight pivots sharply, using Yugo’s suspended body as a shield.

The axe glances off armor in a shower of sparks, but the blow’s momentum causes the knight to lurch sideways, releasing his brutal hold.

Yugo drops limply to his hands and knees with a pained grunt. Jesse darts through the chaos to grab under Yugo’s arm, ducking them both behind a heavy table kicked over for cover.

Across the hazy room, Yuma advances swiftly on Sakura’s swirling blade dance, an eager grin baring his teeth. Her answering snarl promises violence.

Taiga moves to assist just as the knight Shintaro attacked looms before him, bloodied sword angled threateningly toward his chest. Juri flanks the knight in tandem from the opposite side, daggers glinting. Together, they engage the hulking brute.

Taiga centers his focus. He can still reach Yugo. Just get past this obstacle.

Through the smoky gloom, Yuma’s harsh laughter draws Taiga’s attention as the deranged knight easily counters Sakura's strikes. “Such an amateur performance,” Yuma taunts. “But the rumors prove true — the bumbling prince lives. Pity His Majesty does not want his missing son now.”

The knight before Taiga presses his distraction, landing a glancing blow to Taiga’s shoulder that makes his sword arm spasm weakly.

Yuma’s words filter through the pain. His father … cares nothing for him now. Fear and confusion root Taiga in place, mind racing to decipher the implication.

A cry wrenches his focus back barely in time to parry the next thrust. But the delay costs him. Yuma’s blade lodges deep in Taiga’s side, sliding between ribs in a starburst of hot agony.

Somewhere distantly, his own choked scream echoes back. The floor rushes up to meet him, or maybe the ceiling sinks down, he cannot tell. Everything narrows to the searing pain blooming beneath his fingers pressed hard to the wound.

Yuma’s mocking voice filters through the roaring in Taiga’s ears. “A fitting end for the failure prince of Alexandria.”

As the killing blow descends, a body collides with Taiga’s, shielding him. Hot blood splashes Taiga’s face. Disbelieving horror claws up his throat when Yugo slumps against him, the knight’s sword protruding from his back. Someone screams Yugo’s name ripped raw from their throat.

The crystal pendant burns like a brand against Taiga's chest.

Flames explode outward, brawling soldiers blown back by a shockwave. From the inferno soars a magnificent fiery bird, long tail streaming behind its gleaming feathers. The phoenix’s piercing cry rings through the ruins as it circles protectively over Taiga’s still form where he kneels cradling Yugo’s limp body.

Then numb darkness swallows his mind.

💙

Juri dodges the broad knight’s next wild slice by mere inches, the displaced air from the sword ruffling his hair. He dances nimbly around seeking blades and grasping fists, leading the brute in dizzy circles with taunting swipes of his daggers.

Across the hazy room, Taiga still battles the other knight, movements slowing but determination holding firm in the set of his shoulders. Pride swells unexpectedly in Juri’s chest. Their sheltered prince has proven himself exceptionally brave and adaptable throughout this mad endeavor.

A pained grunt draws Juri’s gaze just as the large knight before him stumbles, clutching his thigh. One of Hokuto’s throwing knives protrudes from a gap in his armor. Juri doesn’t hesitate, sweeping the knight’s legs out from under him. The behemoth crashes earthwards, helm cracking loudly on stone. He doesn’t rise again.  

Juri spins, prepared to aid Taiga, when an anguished scream shreds the smoky air.

Everything slows.

Juri turns as Yuma’s blade sinks to the hilt in Yugo's back where he threw himself between Taiga and the killing stroke. Blood, shockingly red, blooms like a macabre flower across Yugo’s tunic.

Someone cries out hoarsely — Taiga does, but maybe Juri does, too. He can’t seem to tear his eyes from the gruesome sight.

Then a pillar of blazing fire scorches heavenward, buffeting Juri with its boiling heat and concussive force. He’s airborne, the consuming inferno roaring in time with blood pounding deafeningly in his ears.

Time reasserts itself abruptly with bruising impact along his side. Juri lays wheezing and disoriented, vision spotted from whiplash. He rolls shakily up to brace on one knee beside the crooked table Jesse dove behind earlier. It, along with a large piece of wood, likely cushioned Juri from serious damage. 

“You good?” Jesse yells over the roar and crackle of ravenous flames consuming broken furniture 

Juri nods jerkily, eyes streaming against thick waves of heat pouring off the blaze. His ears still ring, muffling all sound like he’s submerged underwater. “Wha’ happ’nd?” he tries to shout back through stuttering lungs.

Jesse’s mouth moves, but the words scarcely penetrate. Juri shakes his head helplessly. Before Jesse can try again at a louder volume, lightning-fast motion streaks into Juri’s peripheral vision. On pure instinct, he tackles Jesse down, a jagged stone narrowly missing their heads to shatter against the far wall.

Heart lurching, Juri gapes upwards through the decrepit ceiling now patched with angry fire and ribbons of starlit sky. An unearthly yet vaguely familiar shriek pierces his ears.

There, circling against scattered clouds lit blood red by flames below, soars a magnificent fiery bird trailing ribbons of flame. The phoenix’s next piercing cry scrapes like steel talons down Juri’s spine, sending ice water cascading to pool in his extremities. His shallow breaths plume frostily before his face.

Summoned creature, his instincts scream. Which means …

Horror claws up his throat. Taiga!

Juri lurches up, frantically scanning the smoke-filled ruins. There! Beneath crumbling masonry and raining embers! He spots Taiga half collapsed over Yugo’s body, the knight’s sword jutting grotesquely from his guardian’s back.

Neither show any signs of life.

Fueled by adrenaline and single-minded purpose, Juri ignores the searing air burning his lungs with each gasped breath. He dodges falling debris, vaulting over shattered furniture towards Taiga’s still form.

Somehow, he reaches the prince’s side just as a large section of the ceiling gives way completely behind him. The resounding crash as blazing timbers smash down rattles Juri’s teeth.

No time for precision or care. Juri hooks both arms under Taiga’s shoulders and bodily hauls him towards the relative safety of an arched alcove still mostly intact. Jesse appears on Taiga’s other side, ducking under his limp arm to share the burden. Together, they drag the royal and his guard into shelter mere heartbeats before another fiery beam crashes down, spewing sparks across their boots.

They lower the Prince and his retainer gently against scorched stone, both men deathly still. Jesse immediately presses tentative fingers to Yugo’s throat, seeking a pulse. Juri mirrors him with Taiga, skin icy beneath the sweat and soot.

After agonizing seconds, he nearly weeps in relief at the steady flutter against his fingertips signaling life still clinging to the prince.

Distantly through the din, Sakura’s voice rings out. “Shin’s got Hokuto and headed out already! We have to go!” Her soot-streaked face appears around a collapsed timber, urgency carved into her features by firelight.

“Over here!” Jesse bellows back. “Yugo’s unconscious but breathing! Grab his legs, we gotta —"

A shrill screech splits the turbulent air, followed swiftly by an earsplitting crack and groan of stone. All three dive for cover as the remaining ceiling disintegrates. Blazing rubble crashes deafeningly behind Juri. More benches and paneling ignite, trapping them against the farthest wall.

Squinting against thick smoke, Juri huddles over Taiga’s limp form. He meets Jesse’s panicked gaze across their small haven, watching defeat and regret shadow his friend’s face. They both know it — there's no escaping this inferno now.

Then Sakura stands rigidly straight within the rubble's epicenter, arms thrust skyward. Her usual stern expression twists ferociously as magic circles spin wildly around her. A resonant hum blankets the immediate area like air pressure dropping.

With a sharp cry, Sakura brings both glowing fists down forcibly. A shockwave blasts outward, rattling Juri’s bones and forcing him to shield his face. Wind howls past carrying droplets of moisture and the crisp scent of rain.

When he cautiously peers up again, all flames have vanished. Only piles of smoking rubble and lingering haze remain beneath open sky. Their summoner stands slouched now, chest heaving gulps of air. But she bestows the briefest nod on the gaping thieves.

Jesse whoops, punching both fists in the air. “Nice work, Sakura!”

The barest uptick of her lips serves as acknowledgment before Sakura turns sharply to blast more debris from around Yugo. Together, she and Jesse carefully maneuver his limp form across searing stones no longer smoldering, but still hot enough to burn exposed skin. They disappear out the ruined wall into blessedly cool night beyond.

Cradling Taiga close, Juri trails on their heels through what used to be grand doors now little more than kindling. His lungs spasm in the clean air, making him stagger. He falls to his knees, wheezing hard but never loosening his protective hold on Taiga. They made it. Somehow, despite all odds … everyone made it out alive.

By the time he’s drawn enough clean air to still his shaking limbs, Sakura and Jesse have transferred Yugo safely to a makeshift litter of poles and torn banners Hokuto and Shintaro must have hastily constructed.

Relief and triumph war with lingering fear in Juri as he shifts the still-unconscious prince more comfortably in his arms. Taiga’s head rests limply against Juri’s shoulder, breath feathering warmly across his throat. Crystalline eyes remain closed, sooty lashes fanned softly across pale cheeks. He looks impossibly fragile like this. Vulnerable in a way his courtly demeanor never betrayed before.

Tender empathy wells unexpectedly beneath Juri’s breastbone. He hugs Taiga closer on instinct. If all the boy endured tonight shattered his kind heart beyond repair …

Heart pounding, Juri scans the rubble anxiously for any signs of movement. He knows Yuma survived the initial blast — did the deranged lieutenant flee, unwilling to face whatever magic brought fiery ruin to his station?

Jesse whistles sharply. “Time to fly, people. Anyone not on the ship in sixty seconds gets left behind.”

There’s no time to waste searching the debris. Together, Jesse and Juri carefully lift the makeshift litters bearing Taiga and Yugo. They hurry after Hokuto and the others, retreating into blessed night. The Prima Vista awaits just over the rise, ramp lowered for swift departure.

Shintaro waits aboard, face lighting with relief when he spots them cresting the hill with their injured comrades. “Hurry, we gotta go!” he calls, beckoning urgently.

Once aboard, Shintaro raises the ramp and scrambles up to the pilot house, firing the engines with eager purpose. The deck rattles beneath Juri’s boots. Clinging tight to a support strut, he stares breathless over the balustrade as the cityscape falls away into a dark sea dotted by firefly lights.

Somewhere down there, Yuma picks through smoking wreckage and scattered bodies. But by sunrise, he’ll find only fading embers and dead ends.

They did it — slipped through the closing net by the skin of their teeth. Hardly daring to believe their mad gamble paid off.

As the Prima Vista vanishes seamlessly into the star-strewn sky, Juri finally releases a shaky breath. The prince they swore to deliver lies unconscious behind him, battered but alive. That’s what matters now.

Somehow, despite it all, they protected Taiga.

The Prima Vista cruises smoothly through the night sky over endless dark terrain. The glittering expanse of stars framed in the bridge windows does little to ease the turmoil in Juri’s mind. He keeps replaying those last chaotic moments in the ruined fortress — Yugo throwing himself in front of Taiga, the fountain of blood, strange flames exploding outwards.

And the sight of Taiga’s limp body when he reached his side …

Juri shivers despite the pleasant warmth inside the airship. Too close. They cut that escape too damn close.

“C’mon, let’s get these two settled,” Jesse says quietly, nodding towards the makeshift stretchers carrying Taiga and Yugo’s unconscious forms.

Together, they maneuver the awkward loads through the narrow passageway towards the sleeping quarters. Hokuto and Shintaro already occupy one room tending minor injuries, so Jesse directs them to the next cabin. They ease Taiga onto the lower bunk and settle Yugo on the bed opposite.

Even cleaned of blood and soot, both men appear worryingly pale. Taiga’s dark lashes stand out starkly against his ashen cheeks. Fear spikes anew seeing him so still and small amid the rumpled blankets.

Jesse clears his throat roughly. “No sense hovering. Sakura! Can you take a look, make sure they’re stable?”

The summoner joins them swiftly, critically surveying the injured royals. “I’ve used up most of my energy already, but let me tend the deeper wound first.”

She passes glowing palms over Yugo’s bloodied torso, brows pinching in concentration. Juri notes some color seeping back into his slack features, the wound where the sword once stabbed him closing.

After long minutes, Sakura sags back with a tired sigh. “I’ve healed his stab wounds, but he needs days of rest to fully recover.”

Juri blows out a relieved breath. Crisis narrowly averted. Again. "Good enough for tonight. What about the prince?"

Sakura shakes her head wearily. “Surface wounds only. Likely passed out from shock. I’ll tend to him tomorrow.”

Jesse claps her gently on the shoulder. “Get some rest first. The prince will be alright.” But his eyes tighten faintly with worry belying the casual words.

After Sakura shuffles off, Jesse levels Juri with a solemn look. “Why don’t you grab some shut eye too, bro? No use standing vigil all night.”

He knows Jesse just wants him to stop fretting. And he’s dead on his feet, honestly. But leaving Taiga’s side knots his gut unexpectedly.

Still ...

“Yeah, alright,” Juri sighs, scrubbing both hands roughly over his face. “Just gonna … clean up a bit first.”

Jesse’s knowing stare makes the back of his neck heat. But the captain mercifully just claps his shoulder and leaves without further comment.

Alone with the royals at last, Juri allows himself one brief touch along Taiga’s clammy wrist, assuring the steady beat still pulses there. “Sleep well, Your Highness,” he murmurs uselessly. “You’re safe now.”

If Taiga stirs ever so faintly in response, Juri tells himself it’s just wishful thinking. With a reluctant sigh, he slips from the room towards the crew bathing quarters, emotions still churning restlessly.

Some time later, Juri wanders into the dining area scrubbed clean but no less unsettled. Most everyone else has already gathered around the preparation counter nursing mugs of ale or coffee. The mood hangs heavy despite their narrow success.

Jesse tosses Juri a fresh beer across the room with practiced ease. He pops the cap and joins the circle, noting the matching exhaustion and pensiveness weighing down every shoulder.

“So …” Jesse starts slowly. “The hell was that fiery beast back there anyway? Some freak spirit you stirred up unknowingly, Sakura?”

The summoner shakes her head, looking troubled. “More powerful than any guardian I can conjure. And far beyond reason or control.”

“Yeah, that thing was savage!” Shintaro chimes in eagerly. “Just — BAROOM! — came swooping outta nowhere, got those knights screaming. I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“Yeah. It was a fearsome creature,” Hokuto agrees solemnly. His usually detached demeanor seems shaken. Shintaro leans into him unconsciously seeking comfort until Hokuto slides an arm around the boy’s shoulders.

They all fall silent, grappling with distorted memories of the fiery chaos.

Then a stray thought strikes Juri with sudden dread.

“Hang on.” He straightens slowly, pulse quickening as connections snap into place. “Sakura, you said before uncontrolled power like that only emerges when the summoner feels threatened, right?”

Sakura nods warily. “Yes, that’s what my father has told me.”

Juri’s next breath shudders out sharply. “His Highness told me about overhearing he was adopted. He doesn’t actually have royal blood … The late Queen of Alexandria found him ashore when he was a baby.”

Understanding dawns on Sakura’s face followed swiftly by dismay. “Gods be good … eighteen years ago was when … you mean, the prince carries summoner lineage?” She goes rigid, conflicted emotions warring across her face. “He couldn’t have known … couldn’t have controlled … it makes sense … If he can’t control his powers, the results could be catastrophic.”

“No kidding,” Jesse grunts. “He torched an entire fortress unconscious. Imagine if the power keeps growing.”

“It’s no wonder. He never knew of his powers until today …” Sakura runs a hand through her hair. “And to think I made him guilty about his family … adopted family … killing our tribe …”

Sakura presses both hands over her mouth, eyes distant and haunted. Juri watches uneasily as she seems to retreat deep inside her own mind, grappling with some internal revelation the rest of them cannot see.

The room falls silent, all eyes fixed on Sakura’s sudden distress. Juri shifts his weight, debating whether to approach or give her space. But the rawness of her turmoil roots him in place.

After long moments, Sakura’s dark eyes regain focus, clarity shining through the sheen of unshed tears. Her gaze locks onto Juri, desperation and fragile hope in her weary stare.

“The prince … did he say how old when they found him?” Her voice rasps thinly past some tightness in her chest.

Juri nods slowly, brows pinching together. “An infant. He said they found him eighteen years ago, days after the actual royal son died.”

Understanding creeps slowly up his spine even as Sakura presses both hands over her mouth again, containment cracking. Juri reads the implications writ clearly across her face now — remembers her parents’ tale of fleeing flames in the night, her brother hidden in a basket made to float in the sea, saving him from the bloodshed.

“Sakura …” he asks gently. “Do you think the prince could be …?”

Her exhale shudders out explosively. The wordless confirmation steals his breath.

Around them, the others erupt in startled speculation over Juri’s trembling suggestion. But Sakura squeezes her eyes shut, visibly struggling to gather composure now frayed ragged by profound revelation.

Juri aches to offer some comfort, to help wrestle this cosmic shift into perspective. But Sakura was right earlier — the roiling truth likely overturns everything she believed for eighteen long years. Such seismic change cannot be easily reconciled.

When she finally lifts her head, eyes dry once more, Sakura pins the crew with a stern look. “Enough conjecture,” she commands, brooking no disagreement even as her hands still tremble faintly. “I need to think. I shall … talk to the prince when he wakes.” A crease of sorrow touches her brow.

Sakura sweeps briskly from the room before more questions can hound her, spine held rigidly upright by pure will alone.

Juri watches her go, heart aching over the turmoil she battles silently now. He cannot begin to fathom the conflict inside Sakura’s head — or the guarded hope she surely wrestles, unwilling to fully embrace this profound twist of fate until proven true.

Eventually, the group splinters away seeking their own beds, movements heavy with this new burden none quite know how to shoulder just yet.

Juri tosses fitfully through the remaining night hours. Brief snatches of restless sleep bring only fleeting relief between vivid memories of the fiery phoenix soaring free and Taiga’s devastating screams still echoing through his dreams. 

He abandons all attempts at rest as the first hint of dawn lightens the cabin’s small porthole window. A splash of cold water helps sharpen his dulled thoughts into some semblance of alertness at least.

Juri pointedly doesn't examine his reflection too closely before heading out to check on their injured prince and his guardian. He tells himself seeing the two royals recovering well will settle his restless mind better than more useless pacing.

But the sight of Taiga’s petite frame still dwarfed by blankets on the lower bunk squeezes Juri’s chest unexpectedly tight. He lingers just inside the doorway, gaze riveted on Taiga’s delicate profile.

So many reckless secrets and impossible mysteries shroud the young prince now … how can they possibly protect Taiga from himself if another violent outburst of magic shreds his gentle heart beyond repair?

🩷

Taiga drifts in a hazy dreamscape, flames and anguished screams enveloping him. Shadowy figures race past, but he stands paralyzed at the center of an inferno consuming a humble village. Acrid smoke sears his lungs with each panicked breath. He tries to call for help, to run, anything, but only silence answers his desperate pleas.

Then, miraculously, strong arms wrap around him, shielding his small body from the ravenous blaze. Taiga clings weakly to the unknown woman, relief flooding his numbed mind at no longer facing the fire alone. She smooths back his hair, murmuring soothing words he cannot decipher over the roar and crackle.

Swaddled in coarse cloth at her breast, the woman carries him away from the nightmarish village as darkness slowly encroaches on his senses. But just before oblivion claims him, her face swims into focus above his own — beautiful and weary, with kind eyes brimming over with tears.

“Hush now, Maya,” she whispers. “We’re safe.”

Taiga jolts awake, heart hammering against his ribs. Cold sweat slicks his skin, phantom heat from the dream inferno still prickling his nerves. He forces himself to take slow, deep breaths until the disorientation fades.

Not flames — just early morning sunlight filtering through the porthole window of the cabin aboard the Prima Vista. The same cramped room he, no doubt, collapsed into last night after their harrowing escape from the ruined fortress.

With consciousness comes a throb of pain in his side, drawing Taiga’s attention to the bandages wrapped firmly around his midsection beneath a loose linen shirt. His fingers brush tentatively over the tender area, memory returning in a rush.

The rescue mission. Fighting through enemies to reach Yugo. Then brutal agony spearing his ribs when that deranged Lieutenant Yuma’s blade found its mark. Followed by … what?

His brow furrows, glimpses coming disjointedly — screams, searing heat, acrid smoke. Then Yugo’s blood soaking his hands just before darkness claimed him.

Taiga jackknifes upright, fresh alarm overriding his body’s protests. Yugo! Is his friend even still alive after taking Taiga’s death blow?

He lurches from the bunk, head swimming dangerously. Bracing one hand against the wall, Taiga forces himself to cross the tiny room through sheer will alone. The few steps to Yugo’s cot feel insurmountable, but Taiga manages to half-collapse beside it, desperate gaze scanning his guardian’s slack features intently for any sign of life.

At long last, Yugo’s chest rises and falls shallowly beneath the blanket’s edges. Taiga sags in profound relief as the steady rhythm assures him Yugo clings as tenaciously to life as ever, even marred by countless wounds on Taiga’s behalf.

“Thank the gods,” Taiga breathes aloud, hysterical laughter bubbling up to release some of his fraying emotions. He gently brushes a few strands of mussed hair back from Yugo’s forehead, tenderness welling unexpectedly. “Rest now, old friend. We both endure thanks to your sacrifice.”

Reassured his loyal companion will recover given time, Taiga drags himself slowly back to his own bunk on quavering legs. But sleep remains out of reach, his earlier nightmare still haunting the edges of his weary thoughts. Clearly more transpired during that disastrous mission than his fractured memories can supply.

He needs answers about the strange flames and his own impossible recovery from a lethal blow.

Mind made up, Taiga pushes himself determinedly back onto unsteady feet. He sways a moment, knuckles white where he clings to the wall. The wide wrap of bandages around his ribcage shifts with each stilted breath, tender skin beneath protesting any exertion.

But he cannot lay idle any longer. Bracing his side with one arm, Taiga shuffles forward one small step at a time until safely through the narrow doorway. The lamp-lit passage beyond tilts crazily, nearly sending him to his knees. Still, after several deep breaths, the vertigo fades enough for Taiga to squint towards the distant sounds of subdued conversation echoing up the corridor.

He pauses often to lean heavily against the riveted walls, inching stubbornly forward through single-minded purpose alone. By the time Taiga emerges shakily into the upper deck’s dining nook, cold sweat glazes his skin and each breath saws harshly past gritted teeth. But sweet success untangles the tense knot in his chest.

Around the battered table, the rest of the Prima Vista’s ragtag crew sit nursing mugs of coffee or tea, their usual boisterousness subdued. But all look up sharply at Taiga’s ragged approach, relief flashing across several faces.

Juri jumps to his feet swiftly followed by Jesse. Taiga notes distantly that Sakura pointedly averts her gaze. Odd. But puzzling out her closed-off demeanor must wait until his strength stops flagging so perilously.

Juri’s steadying hands grip Taiga's elbow, guiding him gently down to perch on a low crate. “Careful there, Your Highness. Don’t go pushing yourself too hard.” Up close, his concerned frown makes something flutter unexpectedly beneath Taiga’s breastbone. But he shoves the errant sensation aside, too many more critical questions clawing for answers inside his aching head.

“Yugo … how is he?” Taiga rasps, wetting his dry lips with effort.

“Still out cold, but holding steady,” Jesse supplies from across their makeshift table. “Thanks to Sakura’s healing last night, the worst damage is mended. Now we just gotta keep his rear end resting until it finishes knitting together.”

Weak relief sags Taiga’s frame. He nods tiredly, gratitude shining in his eyes when Juri presses a mug of fragrant tea into his quavering hands. The thieves watch Taiga take careful sips, various looks of curiosity or veiled calculation in their stares.

Taiga’s hands tighten around the warm ceramic, anxiety creeping back in. “Last night …” He struggles to shape the jumbled memories into coherence. “What transpired after we found Yugo? There was fire and pain, but then nothing.” Taiga meets each of their eyes beseechingly. “Whatever devilry or dark miracle occurred, I must know the truth of it.”

The odd tension threading the room ratchets several notches higher. Taiga’s disquiet swells as the thieves exchange silent looks rife with meaning he cannot decipher.

Finally, Juri drags a crate over to sit knee to knee with Taiga. He scrubs both hands roughly through his hair before meeting Taiga’s gaze. “How much do you remember from the fight?”

Brow furrowing, Taiga culls the fractured images flashing chaotically through his mind. “We were overwhelmed. The knight’s blade found my side, then Yugo shielded me …” He shakes his head helplessly. “After that, only fire and heat beyond imagining.”

Juri blows out a slow breath, clearly choosing his next words with care. “Yeah, uh … pretty sure you summoned the fire, actually.”

At Taiga’s baffled look, Juri continues gently, “Wasn’t any ordinary kinda flames though. After Yugo got stabbed saving you, this massive fiery bird — a phoenix, we realized later — just exploded out of nowhere in a tower of flames.”

He sketches a vague shape in the air with his hands. “It shrieked like a demon and swooped through the whole damn fort, unleashing hellfire everywhere. Burned the place to cinders in minutes.” Juri watches Taiga closely. “We got you and Yugo outta there real quick while it raged. Didn't actually die down until Sakura worked some magic of her own to douse the flames."

Taiga can only stare, mind struggling to align this account with his own faulty recollections. “But … surely you are mistaken,” he rasps at last, faintly pleading. “I possess no magical abilities, nor knowledge of how to summon creatures of myth.”

Yet even as denial spills reflexively from Taiga’s lips, doubt niggles at his thoughts. If he truly unleashed such devastating power while unconscious, seemingly in response to dire threat …

Heart pounding, Taiga lifts shaken eyes to Sakura. Her usual detached expression betrays conflicted sorrow before smoothing back to impassivity. Still, she offers a single subtle nod.

“I’m afraid it’s no mistake, Your Highness,” she says tonelessly. “The phantom flames you described, and the ferocity of destruction; it bears the signature of summoner magic answering a surge of unchecked emotion.”

Sakura's impenetrable stare bores into him. “Tell me, Your Highness — did you have any inkling of the power dwelling within you before yesterday?”

“No, never!” Taiga chokes out through tightening lungs. “You say it was summoner magic, but I have no such blood. I am an orphan by all accounts, not …”

He trails off weakly beneath her piercing look, denial crumbling. Taiga rubs both hands roughly over his face again, grappling with impossibility made real. The Kyomoto lineage carries no magic. But Taiga is not a Kyomoto … not by blood, at least.

“Juri has informed us of your … origins,” Sakura returns evenly. “If you’re not truly of Kyomoto lineage, then where did you come from? And what group of people can only have the power you unleashed?”

Her words spear through Taiga’s whirling thoughts with profound implication. Heart in his throat, he can only nod jerkily. Too many puzzle pieces now snap into alignment — his lack of royal blood, summoner magic manifesting instinctively. The truth looms plain and staggering before him.

“Sakura …” The name rasps thinly past the tightness in his chest. Taiga meets her shadowed stare beseechingly. “This gift of yours, you called it summoner magic. It’s only from your tribe?”

For an endless moment, her face betrays nothing. Then grief flickers through her stoic facade. “Those tribes your … king sought to destroy for harnessing powers beyond his control.” She flexes her fingers absently. “My clan escaped the slaughter, but at grave cost. None remain now but myself and my kin in hiding.”

Her stare bores into Taiga, more vulnerable than he’s glimpsed before. “Eighteen years past, we scattered our people to survive the purge … my mother tucked my older brother, a baby back then, in a basket and floated it out to sea away from the flames.”

All air punches from Taiga’s lungs. “Eighteen …” he chokes out weakly. “You think …”

“Your age and unknown origin align too well to ignore.” Sakura’s lips purse against some inner turmoil. “I may have acted in anger previously, without knowing your truth.”

The words come slowly, as though wrenched against her will. But Taiga scarcely hears them over the roaring in his ears. Too much, too fast. He hunches forward, head cradled tightly in both hands as her whispers repeat unrelentingly — brother, tribe, baby sent to sea — each stunning revelation battering his already crumbling world.

Then Juri’s hand smoothes up and down his hunched spine, touch gentle but grounding. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmurs. “No need to figure it all out this second.”

The soothing contact and words ease Taiga’s spiraling thoughts, allowing him to uncurl enough to meet Juri’s steady eyes. Concern shines there, mirrored on the faces of the other thieves hovering nearby. Taiga straightens slowly beneath their combined empathy. Whatever the truth of his origins, these people worry only for his well-being in this moment. Such compassion centers him when all else tilts crazily off-kilter.

Taiga offers Juri a tremulous but grateful smile before turning back to Sakura. Her shoulders curl inward ever so slightly, eyes shuttered once more. For all her formidable strength, this staggering possibility clearly devastates her profound as himself.

Taiga clasps her hands lightly where they knot in her lap, uncaring of boundaries between royalty and commoner for once. “Sakura,” he entreats gently. “This brother cast adrift so long ago … did your parents share his name?”

Her breath hitches softly when their eyes meet again at last. A single tear traces down Sakura’s proud cheek.

“Maya,” she rasps hoarsely. “My lost older brother was named Maya.”

A low sound punches from Taiga’s chest. In his mind’s eye, the weeping woman from his dream takes shape, her face so like the one now before him. Calling him Maya as she bundled him away from ravenous flames.

“Sister …” The word falls brokenly from Taiga’s lips. He clutches Sakura’s hands tighter even as emotions threaten to rupture something vital inside him. “I believe your family has been found.”

Then Sakura crumbles, stoicism faltering as the revelation overwhelms her last defenses. Taiga sweeps her into a fierce embrace, his own tears spilling free as she clings to him. All surrounding noise fades away until only the two of them exist, reunited against all odds by fate’s hands.

When the storm of feeling finally passes, Taiga draws back enough to cradle Sakura’s face tenderly. Her eyes shine with fragile hope even as she lays one palm flat to his chest.

“Brother,” she whispers, testing the profound truth aloud. Her wonderous expression kindles an ember of belonging in Taiga’s heart, some void long ignored now flooded with light.

Sakura’s tentative joy shifts swiftly back to remorse. “I’m sorry for my harsh words before,” she entreats gruffly, unable to bear his gaze as shame colors her cheeks. “I didn’t know you were actually …”

Taiga shakes his head, quick to soothe her guilty conscience. “You reacted with only truth, untampered by knowledge of my family’s atrocities.” He squeezes her shoulder, heart aching at the pain he unknowingly inflicted on her.

As the tide of emotions calms between them, Taiga finds his gaze drawn inevitably back to Juri. The thief lingers nearby, features soft with wonder at their profound reunion. Taiga offers him a tremulous smile, trying to convey his immense gratitude for Juri’s compassion through every turbulent revelation. He suspects Juri knows his heart well enough by now to read the message clear in his eyes —

Thank you for standing by my side.

💙

Juri leans back in the worn leather captain’s chair aboard the Prima Vista’s bridge, absently tapping out a rhythm on the wheel as he guides the airship smoothly through the night sky. Below, the darkened landscape slides past, mountains and rivers rendered alien in the dim moonlight.

Up here alone on the late watch, Juri welcomes the solitude and the faint vibration of the bulkheads surrounding him. The events of recent days play through his mind on endless repeat — their dramatic kidnapping of Prince Taiga, the startling revelations about his lineage, the devastating attack on the fortress that has kidnapped Yugo, their narrow escape.

So much excitement crammed into such a short span. Juri knows he ought to be focused wholly on navigating, but his thoughts keep wandering back to the prince now resting belowdecks.

Nearly losing Taiga amidst fiery chaos rattled Juri more than he cares to admit. That delicate face streaked with soot and blood, robes singed and tattered, will surely haunt his dreams for nights to come. As will crimson blooming hideously across Yugo’s back as he shielded his prince from the death blow.

Juri shivers despite the temperate air. Too close. They cut their escape far too close.

His fingers go still on the wheel, head bowing beneath the weight of how very nearly he failed to protect …

“Juri?”

He startles violently at the soft voice behind him, twisting around to see Taiga lingering just within the bridge entrance. Backlit by the corridor lamps, he resembles some ethereal vision in loose silken robes, the crystal pendant at his throat glinting faintly.

Juri blows out a sharp breath, pressing a hand to his thudding heart. “Your Highness. I didn’t hear you come in.”

Taiga winces apologetically. “Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you.” He takes a hesitant step closer. “May I join you for a time?”

“Of course.” Juri shakes off his surprise and gestures to the copilot seat beside him. Strange to see the prince up and about after recent trauma, but the pinch of pain lingering around Taiga’s eyes seems the only outward sign of lingering injury. He settles gracefully into the proffered chair with barely a hitch in his smooth motions.

They regard each other a moment in pensive silence. This near, Juri notes just how weary Taiga appears even bathed in angelic moonlight streaming through the expansive windows. His heart squeezes unexpectedly.

“Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” Juri asks gently.

Taiga’s lips quirk in a tired half-smile. “I confess, rest eludes me of late.” He presses a hand absently to his side before catching himself and smoothing the anxious tell. “My dreams are … unsettled.”

Juri nods in sympathy, sparing Taiga having to describe the likely nightmares plaguing him. “Well, you’re welcome to keep me company up here as long as you like. These late watches can get awful lonesome.”

“I appreciate that.” Taiga rolls his shoulders slowly, tension visibly bleeding from his frame now that pursuit feels safely distant. “And please, while we are alone, call me Taiga. I tire of standing on formality.”

Warmth spreads through Juri’s chest at being entrusted to use the prince’s given name. “Taiga,” he repeats softly, enjoying the intimate shape of it on his tongue.

They share a look of perfect understanding, some barrier lowered with the simplicity of names. Juri clears his throat gruffly and turns his focus back on steering them peacefully through the night.

Easy silence stretches between them for a time. But Juri’s ever-churning thoughts won’t grant him peace for long. “How’s your pal Yugo holding up?” he asks. “Last I saw, he was still dead to the world.”

“He finally woke some hours ago, though he still struggles with simply sitting upright.” Taiga’s expression turns distant. “I regret that he endures such torment merely because fate bound him to my service.”

“Hey, none of that.” Juri nudges Taiga’s shoulder. “You know he sees it as his duty or whatever. His choice to protect you.”

Taiga just shakes his head, unconvinced. “Perhaps, though I wish it were not so. Still …” Some tension eases from his shoulders. “I remain immensely grateful he yet lives because of your team’s efforts. I owe you all a debt I may never repay.”

“Pretty sure you already saved all our skins with that, uh, fiery display back there.” Juri grins weakly before sobering again. “All part of the job, really. We look after our own.”

He holds Taiga’s gaze meaningfully until the prince ducks his head with a faint flush. Clearly their stowaway royal now counts firmly among those Juri protects, duty be damned.

Companionable silence settles between them again as the Prima Vista cruises smoothly on autopilot through calm skies. But Juri senses a restless energy thrumming just beneath Taiga’s placid exterior.

“So …” he starts casually, “now that you’ve got your legs back under you, feeling up for talking about everything? Gotta be a lot rattling around in that head after today’s revelations.”

Taiga huffs a quiet, rueful laugh. “You have the right of that. I confess, it still feels akin to some vivid dream from which I have not yet awoken.” He shakes his head as though to reorder his thoughts. “Learning the truth of my origins … reconciling with the sister I never knew … beginning to understand this magic dwelling within me …” He breaks off on a harsh exhale, looking sharply away as if to hide sudden emotion.

Juri lays a gentle hand atop Taiga’s where it knots anxiously in his lap without thought. But the vulnerable look Taiga gives their joined hands emboldens him to leave the soothing contact be rather than pulling hastily away.

“Hey, no need to explain it all now if you're still processing,” Juri says softly. “Just remind yourself to breathe, yeah? Take all the time you need figuring stuff out.”

Taiga’s slender fingers curl loosely around his own, thumb stroking distractedly over Juri’s knuckles. “Your kindness shames me,” he whispers. “After all your people suffered under Alexandrian rule, still you offer compassion so freely …”

Juri frowns. “None of that was your doing, Taiga.” He ducks his head, seeking those downcast eyes again until Taiga meets his gaze. “The past is done. But now you have a chance to guide your kingdom toward reconciliation when we get you back.” Juri squeezes Taiga’s hand lightly. “I meant what I said before about you being a force for change on the throne.”

Taiga just shakes his head again, clearly unconvinced of his capability yet.

Silence falls between them once more, but a lighter mood seems restored. Their hands remain entwined atop the console as the Prima Vista cruises smoothly onward. Eventually, Taiga stirs again, mind clearly turning towards the future.

“Once we reach Lindblum, I ought to inquire whether Kento will permit myself and Sakura to train within the royal grounds.” Taiga’s voice firms with purpose. “If I am to wield this magic responsibly, I must learn what powers may yet awaken inside me.”

Juri nods thoughtfully. “Probably wise getting some professional help mastering all that. Sakura seems crazy powerful from what I’ve seen.” Excitement wars with melancholy inside him at the thought of their journey’s end drawing inexorably closer. “What then, though? Back to princely life in Alexandria?”

Taiga stills, uncertainty once again dimming his expression. “I … do not believe I will be welcomed back to court so easily. That deranged knight, Yuma, spoke as if my father no longer searches for me.” His face shutters further. “It seems he considers me irreparably tainted by association with alleged kidnappers.”

Righteous anger kindles instantly beneath Juri’s breastbone at such callous rejection. He squeezes Taiga’s hand fiercely. “Then it’s his loss for casting you aside without cause. The King’s paranoid fear blinds him to all you yet offer Alexandria.”

Despite Juri’s heated defense, Taiga appears untroubled, even resigned about this estrangement from his adopted father. He offers a sad half-smile. “You speak true, though matters of inheritance never rested easy with me regardless. I only hope word of my survival reaches Alexandria so Yugo does not face treason charges alone.”

He rubs distractedly beneath the crystal pendant with his free hand. “In truth, now that my eyes are opened to evils lurking within the kingdom’s shadow, I hesitate to simply claim my throne without first uprooting the rot infecting Alexandria.” Taiga meets Juri’s gaze solemnly. “I may yet renounce all claim and simply voyage with your team to undo past sins.”

Juri gapes, stunned by this profound declaration. Gone is any last trace of the naive prince who first stumbled anxiously aboard the Prima Vista mere days ago. In his place sits a man ready to abandon comfort and privilege if that is the price of creating lasting change. Joy and trepidation war inside Juri’s heart.

“Well, if you ever need a roguishly handsome escort on travels to exotic lands, you know who to call,” Juri quips, trying to lighten the solemn mood.

To his relief, Taiga huffs a surprised laugh. “Indeed, I shall be lost without my band of rapscallion protectors.” Mischief glints through the lingering sadness in his eyes. “Truly, I ought to hire the lot of you on permanently as my royal guard.”

Juri chuckles weakly, hoping the offer made only in jest. He’s always relished freedom too deeply to entertain settling down in one kingdom’s service. But the subtly pleading note in Taiga’s parting remark gives him pause. If Taiga asked it of him …

Juri shoves that dangerous thought roughly aside. They have far too great a journey ahead still to be speaking hypothetically of some hazy future.

He clears his throat gruffly. “Yeah, yeah, you just focus on charming King Kento for now. We’ll handle the derring-do and rescuing damsels part after.”

Taiga rolls his eyes in mock exasperation but seems content letting the subject lie for now.

Their hands remain joined atop the console as the Prima Vista sails on through peaceful night. Eventually, Taiga’s eyes slip closed, head nodding gently before he startles himself awake again.

“You really should get more rest,” Juri chides fondly when it happens a third time.

Taiga scrubs his free hand wearily down his face. “Yes, I suppose you are right.” But he makes no move to rise, fingers smoothing idly over Juri’s knuckles again instead.

Juri waits a beat, pulse thrumming. “Well, my shift’s almost up anyway. How about I walk you back to your cabin at least?”

Taiga’s fingers tighten briefly around his before releasing Juri’s hand with clear reluctance. “I would appreciate that.”

They move wordlessly through the lamp-lit corridors, shoulders bumping companionably. At Taiga’s cabin door, he hesitates, staring at the worn floorboards rather than meeting Juri’s gaze.

“Thank you for sitting with me tonight,” Taiga says softly. “I fear without your patience, your kindness, I would have crumbled beneath the revelations heaped upon me these past days.” His eyes shine when he finally looks up. “You remain a steadfast harbor in this storm … I cannot properly articulate my gratitude.”

Emotion clogs Juri’s throat. He slides gentle hands along Taiga’s shoulders, heart swelling as the prince immediately sways into his loose embrace. No further words come, so Juri simply folds Taiga close, hoping the tender contact conveys what his voice cannot.

They cling together a breathless moment, all else fading away.

Eventually, Juri forces himself to step back, trailing fingertips along Taiga’s sleeves ass he withdraws reluctantly. “Get some rest,” he rasps gruffly. “I’ll come check on you later.”

Taiga’s answering smile shines bright as dawn across his weary features. “Till later then.” He slips quietly into his cabin, gaze lingering until the door clicks shut between them.

Alone in the passageway, Juri releases a slow breath. Their journey ahead remains long and fraught with unknowns. But somehow, the Prima Vista seems to be carrying him steadily towards a future he cannot yet see.

🩷

The pale light of dawn filters through the small porthole window, rousing Taiga from fitful slumber. He blinks blearily, the remnants of troubled dreams fading swiftly as wakefulness asserts itself. A dull ache throbs at his side where Lieutenant Yuma’s blade pierced him, the tender flesh beneath the linen bandages protesting any shift or stretch.

With a quiet groan, Taiga gingerly pushes upright, bare feet hitting the cold floor. He pauses there a moment, head bowed beneath the lingering exhaustion plaguing his battered body. But across the narrow divide, movement draws his gaze — Yugo shifting restlessly atop his cot, face creased in pain even unconscious.

Concern for his loyal guardian overrides any lingering lethargy. Taiga forces stiff legs to stand and crosses the cramped space separating them.

“Yugo,” he calls softly, smoothing back the sweat-damp hair from Yugo’s forehead. Feverish heat burns beneath his palm, worrisome after days of recovery already.

Yugo’s eyes slit open, gaze fogged with discomfort. “T-Taiga?” His usually authoritative voice rasps thinly past cracked lips.

“I’m here.” Taiga braces a hip on the mattress edge, hand still carding soothingly through Yugo’s hair. “How do you fare this morning?”

Yugo drags a hand roughly down his haggard face, wincing as the motion pulls at half-healed wounds crisscrossing his torso. “Well enough,” he grits out unconvincingly. Still, determination hardens his jaw as Yugo pushes up on trembling arms.

Taiga moves swiftly to stack the flat pillows behind him for support. “Careful,” he chides when Yugo sways dangerously upright. “You’re still recovering. Do not push yourself unnecessarily.”

Yugo makes a low frustrated noise but allows Taiga to ease him gently back against the pillows. “I must … return to my duties … protecting you …”

“Hush.” Taiga smoothes the crease between Yugo’s pinched brows with his thumb. “You protected me quite valiantly already. Now I shall watch over you as you recover.”

Yugo huffs indignantly but seems to lack the strength for further argument. His eyelids droop before jerking open again. “Are we …?”

“Still aboard the Prima Vista, en route to Lindblum,” Taiga supplies gently. “We’re due to arrive sometime today. You’ve drifted in and out these past days while Sakura tended your wounds.”

At Yugo’s suddenly alert look, Taiga sighs. No use delaying the inevitable revelations now that his friend’s faculties return.

Settling onto the mattress edge, Taiga recounts all that transpired after Yuma’s attack — the fiery phoenix exploding forth in response to Taiga’s mortal peril, the narrow escape only made possible by Sakura’s magical quelling of the flames.

Yugo’s eyes widen almost comically as understanding dawns. “You possess magic?” he rasps. “How can this be?”

Taiga nods, solemn yet excited to finally unburden the strange tale. He explains Sakura’s suspicions about his lineage aligning with her lost brother, handed to the seas and the mercy of fate on the night Alexandrian soldiers slaughtered her tribe. How this magic dwelling long dormant within him likely protected Taiga all those years ago, ensuring the orphaned babe survived his journey ashore where Queen Hiromi awaited discovery.

By the story’s end, Yugo appears flabbergasted, clearly grappling to realign his understanding of Taiga’s past and prospects. “The gods surely maneuvered your path with purpose,” he says at last, wonder and unease warring across his features. “Though mastering such power may prove vital for your destiny.” His shoulders sag beneath the invisible weight. “I regret that my injuries prevented me from shielding you amidst the chaos of this awakening.”

Taiga gently grasps Yugo’s shoulder. “You shielded me from death itself. I could ask nothing more.” He offers an encouraging smile. “We shall face whatever comes next together, as always.”

A firm knock interrupts before Yugo can respond. The cabin door swings open to reveal Hokuto silhouetted in the corridor’s lamplight.

“Apologies for the intrusion, Your Highness. But we’ve begun our descent towards Lindblum. Best prepare for arrival shortly.” With an efficient dip of his chin, Hokuto withdraws, boots already echoing down the passageway.

Taiga and Yugo exchange startled looks.

“Well then.” Taiga braces his hands on his thighs, resolve firming his jaw. “Let us get you on your feet. A future king can hardly arrive cradled in the arms of thieves like an infant.”

Yugo huffs indignantly but allows Taiga to support him up from the cot. They shuffle awkwardly towards the door, Yugo leaning heavily against Taiga’s shoulder despite attempting to minimize the contact.

By the time they reach the Prima Vista’s upper deck, Taiga’s ribs ache fiercely from exertion. But joy sparks through the discomfort when he glimpses Juri waiting near the balustrade.

Their eyes catch and hold, a silent conversation passing between them. Juri’s features crease in concern noting Taiga’s labored breaths and pallor. But Taiga offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

After a fraught moment, Juri’s shoulders relax minutely, and he returns a lopsided grin that sets Taiga’s pulse skittering unexpectedly.

What dangerous path do his thoughts meander down regarding the roguish thief? Now is certainly not the time to examine why Juri’s casual warmth stirs longings best ignored by a prince of the realm.

Taiga forces his attention forward as Lindblum’s skyline pierces the distant horizon. Excitement to see his childhood friend after so long pushes all else momentarily aside.

Answers await him in this fabled city of steam and ingenuity. All else must wait.

As the Prima Vista descends towards Lindblum’s grand airship dock, Taiga drinks in the sight of the fabled city laid out below. Steam vents hiss and massive propellers spin lazily atop the castle’s gleaming towers that pierce the skies. Strings of ornate air cabs zip along prescribed routes between buildings. Even from this height, Taiga spies crowds bustling through tidy streets surrounding the sprawling palace complex.

The entire metropolis thrums with technological ingenuity and innovation beyond anything Taiga witnessed in Alexandria’s ancient halls. As the airship nears the dock, he picks out ranks of smaller vessels comprising Lindblum’s air force. A pang of longing shoots through him at the thought of someday commanding such an armada in just causes, not bloody conquests.

With practiced ease, Shintaro maneuvers the Prima Vista into an open berth. Steam releases in great hissing clouds as the engine vents excess pressure. Taiga turns to help support Yugo, but Jesse waves him off.

“I got this, Your Highness,” Jesse says easily, sliding a shoulder beneath Yugo's arm before he can protest. “You go on ahead with the gangplank.”

Too eager to reunite with Kento, Taiga doesn’t argue. He joins Hokuto at the top of the extended ramp, vibrating with anticipation. His nerves transform to profound relief and joy as Kento comes into view below accompanied by another young man Taiga doesn’t recognize.

Kento looks every inch the capable sovereign now, posture confident and features schooled into a dignified mask. But at the sight of Taiga descending the ramp, his courtly facade breaks into a radiant grin.

“Taiga!” In three quick strides, Kento engulfs him in a fierce embrace right there on the busy dock. “Thank the gods you made it safely.”

Taiga returns the hug fiercely, uncaring of decorum. “It gladdens my heart to see you again, old friend.”

Too soon, Kento steps back, hands remaining braced on Taiga’s shoulders. “Look at you,” he murmurs wonderingly. “I can scarcely believe it’s been five long years.”

Taiga takes in the changes time wrought on his childhood companion in turn. Kento’s shoulders broadened, frame filled out from gangly boy to sturdy man. His jaw squared into handsome angles. But those clever eyes still shine with familiar mischief below the regal circlet gleaming atop cinnamon waves.

Over Kento’s shoulder, Taiga notes the rest of the Tantalus crew disembarking along with Yugo supported between Jesse and Shintaro. The unknown young man hovering nearby shifts on his feet, throat bobbing nervously until Kento remembers himself.

“Oh, forgive me! Where are my manners?” Still gripping Taiga’s shoulder, Kento turns to beam at the other boy. “Taiga, meet Fuma Kikuchi, my personal attendant and shieldsman. Fuma, this is Crown Prince Taiga of Alexandria, my dearest friend from childhood.”

Fuma executes a graceful bow. “The honor is mine, Your Highness. Any friend of my lord’s holds highest esteem.” Despite the formality, genuine kindness shines through Fuma’s broad smile.

Taiga returns a polite nod, gratitude welling that his beloved friend found a loyal guardian of his own.

Kento gestures eagerly for the group to follow him inside. “Come, we’ve had rooms prepared for you all. Tonight, we feast!”

He leads the way swiftly through sunlit corridors, arm hooked through Taiga’s as they chatter enthusiastically about castle happenings. But Taiga notes Juri trailing several paces behind, lacking any of his usual casual swagger. Fuma seems to be attempting conversation with the subdued thief to little avail.

Before Taiga can fall back to check on him, Kento steers their group into a spacious solar clearly meant for distinguished guests from its lavish furnishings. “Please make yourselves at home for now,” he proclaims grandly. “The kitchens are preparing a splendid welcoming banquet as we speak.”

He guides Taiga to a plush settee near intricate stained glass windows and insists on hearing every detail of his journey so far. Taiga obliges readily, though he tracks from the corner of his eye as Juri slips quietly from the room once Kento concludes assigning guest quarters.

Odd …

Soon, servants arrive to show everyone to their rooms for freshening up before dinner. Taiga waits until the shuffling crowd thins before catching Hokuto’s sleeve.

“Pardon me, but which room belongs to Juri?”

Hokuto looks briefly surprised but supplies the information readily. Taiga thanks him and makes his way there, nerves churning without cause. He tells himself merely wishing to ensure the temperamental thief feels welcomed here.

The door swings open after only a cursory knock to reveal Juri scrubbing a towel over his damp hair. Surprise flashes across his features. “Oh, uh … come on in, I guess.”

Taiga perches gingerly on a garishly embroidered settee near the balcony doors thrown open to let in fresh air. “I wished to check you were settled comfortably.”

Juri’s eyes shutter swiftly. He shrugs with feigned nonchalance. “Yeah, digs here are crazy lush. Like a damn palace — oh wait.” He forces an empty chuckle.

Taiga’s concern only grows at this uncharacteristic behavior. He bites his lip. “Have I … done something to upset you? You seemed out of spirits earlier.”

“What? No. I’m fine.” Juri turns away under pretense of tossing the towel aside. “So what’s the deal with you and King Kento anyway? Pretty cozy from the look of things.”

“Oh.” Comprehension dawns at last. Taiga smiles softly, tension bleeding from his frame. “Kento and I were childhood playmates many years ago. But once I reached ten years and commenced official schooling, our interactions diminished. We stopped keeping touch when we were teenagers, when my father started the war.” He ducks his head abashedly. “We were boys together, nothing more. My affections reside els—"

He cuts off the revealing sentiment hastily, face flaming.

Mercifully, Juri seems to relax at the reassurance, perching beside Taiga at a more companionable distance. “Gotcha. So just old friends then.”

Before Taiga can decipher the odd twinge of relief in Juri’s eyes, a knock precedes a servant announcing the banquet awaits their presence. Juri stands and offers Taiga a hand up, back to his usual charming self.

Taiga accepts, pulse skittering from the contact. He tucks away that telling reaction for later examination as they make their way to the great hall.

Kento’s eyes light up at their entrance. “Ah, here are my two heroes at last!” He sweeps aside his high-backed chair to stand and greet them properly, clearly angling to keep Taiga at his side.

But duty stays Taiga’s steps. “Please excuse me a moment. I should check on Yugo.”

Kento blinks, wrong-footed by the redirection. “Oh, of course.” He smooths his surprise over swiftly. “By all means, tend your guardian. I shall speak more with your daring rescuers in the meantime.”

Taiga offers an apologetic smile before slipping around the table to where Yugo sits propped up on cushions, grumbling at being relegated away from Taiga. But he settles at Taiga’s quiet assurance of protection here in Lindblum.

Only once he finishes getting Yugo settled comfortably with refreshments nearby does Taiga finally resume his own seat at Kento’s left hand. The king beams approvingly, immediately angling their chairs closer.

But Taiga finds his attention drawn past Kento to where Juri entertains Jesse and Shintaro with some wildly embellished heist story. Hokuto watches on with a tolerant quirk of his lips that screams indulgent fondness. And Sakura appears deep in serious discussion with Fuma despite seeming opposites.

Warmth swells in Taiga’s chest seeing his odd new comrades so at ease in lavish surroundings. It bolsters him enough to turn fully to Kento, prepared to learn why his friend’s cryptic messages spurred the Tantalus into action.

Kento’s expression sobers, sensing the shift. He nods gravely. “First, a toast to your safe arrival in times of unrest.”

Glasses clink ceremoniously around the great hall. Taiga hides a rueful smile behind his napkin at the thieves improvising a messy version of proper decorum.

Then Kento sets his drink aside, full focus settling on Taiga alone. “I know you must have questions, my friend. But heed me well — returning you to Alexandria would only place you in mortal peril now. King Masaki’s ambitions have grown unchecked.”

Taiga’s stomach sinks as Kento confirms his worst fears.

The story spills forth in earnest then. Taiga sits riveted in horror as Kento describes Masaki’s discovery of Taiga’s true lineage and powerful magic. How he now plans to unleash Taiga’s gifts violently on any kingdom that will not kneel.

“I tried reasoning with him as ally to ally,” Kento insists fervently. “But he refused all diplomacy, saying conquest will unite Gaia under rightful rule.”

Taiga can only stare, devastated by how fully his father’s greed eclipsed all reason.

Kento covers Taiga's clenched hand with his own, expression earnest.

“Lindblum is prepared to rally our allies against Alexandria's forces if it comes to battle. But perhaps together we can make your father see sense before more blood is shed needlessly.”

Slowly, Taiga firms his resolve and meets Kento’s gaze. “I know my father well. Words alone will not sway his course.” He takes a steeling breath. “But I now possess magic of my own. I will ask Sakura — my sister — to teach me wield it properly, and I will stand with Lindblum against tyranny.”

Pride gleams in Kento’s eyes as he clasps Taiga's shoulder. “Just like when we played at war as boys. Together we shall convince your father his path leads only to ruin.”

Despite the gravity of their purpose, nostalgia tugs Taiga’s lips. He clasps Kento’s hand firmly. “As in our boyhood dreams, good shall triumph this time.”

Their shared look brokers no doubt of that eventuality.

💙

Juri stirs awake to rays of morning sun filtering through the ornate stained glass window of his lavish guest quarters. He stretches leisurely beneath the plush blankets, muscles pleasantly loose.

A grin tugs his lips remembering where he is — Lindblum Grand Castle, far removed from the usual cramped airship bunks or rocky forest clearings that serve as the Tantalus hideouts.

After washing up in the adjoined bathing room, Juri dresses and makes his way to the solar they’ve claimed as their meeting spot. Voices echo up the corridor before he steps inside. Jesse and Sakura are already deep in discussion around the large table.

“Ah, he wakes!” Jesse grins and beckons Juri over. “Grab some breakfast, we got things to discuss.”

Juri snags a flaky pastry and sprawls into a cushioned chair. “This about what’s next for the Tantalus? Gotta say, might be tough leaving these fancy digs and the royal treatment.”

“Could get used to this kinda life, huh?” Jesse nudges him good-naturedly before sobering. “But nah, we’re meant for freedom, not being tied down in service.”

Hokuto and Shintaro enter next, shoulders brushing affectionately. After they settle around the table with their own food, Jesse clears his throat.

“So here’s the deal. His Majesty King Kento paid us the agreed sum for delivering Prince Taiga safely.” Jesse produces a jingling sack of coins from beneath his vest and upends it onto the table.

Juri’s jaw drops at the small fortune spilling out, glinting in the sunlight. His wide eyes dart between the pile and Jesse’s satisfied grin. “No way …” he breathes. “This is ours? For one job?”

“All ours, split five ways as usual.” Jesse doles out five equal shares.

Juri runs his fingers through the heap of coins reverently. Enough for months of leisurely living if he spends thriftily. His dreams of escaping thievery inch closer to reality.

“The King also had another request,” Jesse continues, drawing Juri’s focus back. “He wants us to fetch Sakura’s parents from Cleyra and bring them here. Thinks their skills could help the prince learn to control his powers.”

Sakura’s usual detachment cracks subtly with surprise and fragile hope. Hokuto lays a comforting hand over hers where they knot together. “It’s not far,” she says thickly. “A short flight beyond the eastern wastelands. I can point the location on the map.”

“Sounds good to me!” Shintaro enthuses. “Nice easy mission.” He turns an adoring look on Hokuto. “Be nice having time to ourselves too, just the two of us.”

Hokuto smiles indulgently, brushing his knuckles along Shintaro’s cheek. “I’ll prepare our route and supplies today. We can leave at first light.”

They share a soft look that makes Juri glance away, throat oddly tight. Sometimes their easy affection pains him for want of something similar.

“Great, it’s settled then.” Jesse claps his hands decisively. “While those two are off on their quest, the rest of us can figure our own next moves.” He levels his gaze seriously on each of them. “Way I see it, war between Alexandria and Lindblum is coming one way or another now. Where do we stand in all this?”

Sakura sits forward, resolve steeling her posture. “I’m staying to help my brother in his battle. I want to avenge our tribe’s decimation.”

Jesse nods before looking to the lovers. Hokuto and Shintaro share a speaking glance, having clearly discussed this already.

“We’d prefer to avoid choosing sides,” Hokuto says diplomatically. “The Tantalus have always remained separate from political conflicts.”

“Yeah, don’t really care who rules where,” Shintaro adds with a careless shrug. “Just wanna take care of us.”

Jesse smiles wryly. “Can’t blame you there. What about you, Juri?”

All eyes turn to him expectantly. Juri shifts in his seat, conflicted emotions at war within him. His people suffered greatly under Alexandrian rule in the Cleyran offensive. And he wants to help Taiga and Lindblum, to avenge his father’s death.

But Juri’s a thief, not a person to be placed in a battlefield.

“I …” Juri blows out a sharp breath, scrubbing both hands roughly through his hair.
“I don’t know, honestly.” He meets Jesse’s stare beseechingly. “But there’s gotta be some way to resolve this without bloodshed, right?”

Jesse just shakes his head regretfully. “Men like King Masaki don't stop their conquests through pretty words alone. If Taiga can’t make his old man see reason, war is inevitable.”

Hokuto studies him across the table, an uncomfortably knowing gleam in his eyes. “You fear what will happen next with the prince,” he says simply. Not accusing, but the observation hits its mark all the same.

Juri’s breath catches sharply. “I …” His throat bobs helplessly, unable to deny the charge.

Hokuto’s expression softens. “Your feelings do you credit. But be careful where your heart leads. The life of royalty is not one you’d welcome, I think.”

Shame burns Juri’s cheeks at having his inner turmoil read so plainly. He knows Hokuto speaks wisdom, though. As much as Juri may wish to remain at Taiga’s side, he chafes at the stifling confines of courtly life. If Taiga returns to claim the Alexandrian throne …

Jesse’s hand settles heavily on Juri’s shoulder, steadying him amidst the dizzying possibilities. “No need to decide anything now. Let’s just get comfortable for now, then we can revisit this once Hokuto and Shin return.”

Juri nods jerkily, shooting Jesse a grateful look. The others murmur agreement, tensions dissipating.

“We’ll figure it all out,” Jesse says firmly.

His confidence heartens Juri enough to breathe freely again. No matter what may come, they have each other's backs.

For now, that’s enough.

A day has passed after they see off Hokuto and Shintaro aboard the Prima Vista. Juri stretches leisurely as he wakes, pleasantly relaxed after a restful night’s sleep in the lavish guest quarters. He washes and dresses at a leisurely pace, still marveling at the luxury of having his own spacious chambers and massive feather bed all to himself.

Footsteps echo down the passageway outside, followed by Jesse’s familiar drawling voice. “Morning, sleeping beauty. Figured I’d find you still snoring away in here.”

Juri grins and opens the door to find his friend leaning casually against the opposite wall. “What can I say, a guy could get used to these fancy royal digs.”

Jesse claps him on the back. “Want the full tour then? This place is like a damn maze.”

They meander side by side through sunlit corridors and cavernous chambers, chatting and joking easily. Lindblum Castle’s grandeur amazes Juri despite seeing Alexandria’s comparable opulence.

Soon, their idle wanderings lead them to a vast courtyard. The ring of steel on steel draws Juri’s gaze to two distant figures amidst training equipment on the far side. Even at a distance, Taiga’s delicate features stand out as he watches his sister intently.

Juri’s steps slow, feet moving toward the training area as if compelled by some external force. Jesse smirks knowingly and nudges him along.

“Go on, I know you’re dying to see your prince charming.”

Heat flares in Juri’s cheeks, but he doesn't bother denying it. They pick their way across the open space until Taiga’s voice drifts clearer on the morning air.

“… just focus everything through your fingertips?” He mimics the motion hesitantly.

Across from him, Sakura nods. “Exactly. Imagine gathering all your energy into a single point, then releasing it outwards.” She holds out her palm. “Like so.”

A controlled jet of water bursts from her hand, arcing gracefully to splash across white stone. Taiga watches avidly, clearly captivated by this casual display of magic. The summoner gift woven into his lineage as well, though still untapped fully.

Sakura flicks her wrist, dispersing the liquid back into mist. “Now you try. Start small and build up.”

At her encouraging look, Taiga furrows his brow in concentration. He extends one slender hand, eyes slipping shut.

For endless moments, nothing happens. Then a single tongue of flame sputters weakly across his palm. Just as swiftly, it gutters out. 

Taiga’s eyes fly open, crestfallen. “I don’t understand how you make it look so simple.”

“You’ll get there, just takes practice,” Sakura says bracingly. She goes utterly still then, head cocking slightly. In a blur, she spins and unleashes a controlled burst of water.

Juri yelps as the sudden deluge hits him square in the chest, knocking him flat on his back. Sputtering, he glares up at Sakura through dripping bangs. “Hey! What was that for?”

Sakura just smirks, arms crossed. “Maybe don’t sneak around spying next time.”

Jesse cackles nearby, equally soaked.

Taiga hurries over apologetically. “Forgive us, we did not mean to intrude.” He extends a hand to help Juri up.

Pulse skittering at the contact, Juri allows himself to be pulled back upright. Their faces stand mere inches apart now, Taiga's concerned eyes searching his.

Quickly, Juri steps back and plasters on a cocky grin. “No harm done, Your Highness. Jesse and I were just exploring the fancy castle.” He gestures airily. “Carry on with the magic lesson, don’t mind us.”

Taiga still looks contrite, but returns to his exercises.

Jesse saunters closer, wringing water from his shirt. “Hey, looks fun. Mind if we join in?” He snags two blunted practice swords and tosses one to Juri.

Sakura just shrugs and resumes coaching her brother.

Taking that as assent, Jesse squares off opposite Juri. “Let’s teach His Highness proper sword work once he takes a break, yeah?”

Juri salutes cheekily before falling into a ready stance. Out the corner of his eye, he notes Yugo leaning against a column, scanning their antics critically.

Jesse lunges swiftly, forcing Juri’s attention back to their duel.

They trade blows, falling into familiar rhythm honed by years sparring together. Jesse lands a sharp rap to Juri’s thigh that will surely leave a bruise.

“Getting slow, partner,” Jesse teases, dancing back.

Juri narrows his eyes. He feints left then pivots, sweeping Jesse neatly off his feet to land in an indignant sprawl. “You were saying?”

Their mock battle intensifies, blurred strikes and panting breaths underscored by playful taunts. Jesse manages another stinging blow to Juri’s shoulder before unexpectedly freezing, blade lowered.

“Hang on, need a breather,” he gasps out.

Juri blinks, torn from their intense focus. He glances around in time to see Sakura withdrawing a bucket of water from nowhere. Impressive.

Taiga sags down beside him, weariness bowing his slender frame. “I fear this magic shall forever elude my grasp,” he sighs.

Juri settles next to him on the low stone wall. “Hey, you heard your sister. Takes time and practice.” Unable to resist, he nudges Taiga's shoulder. “I know patience isn’t a princely virtue, but have faith in yourself.”

Taiga huffs a soft laugh. “You speak truthfully. I shall persevere.”

Their eyes catch and hold, the moment stretching. Before Juri loses himself, a commotion draws their attention.

Yugo stands over Jesse’s sprawled form, practice sword leveled at his breast. “Do you yield?”

Grumbling, Jesse holds up his hands. “Yeah, yeah, I yield! Now let me up, you brute.”

Yugo smirks and extends a hand to tug Jesse upright. “I win our wager then. You’re at my service starting today.”

“Ugh, fine,” Jesse grumbles. “Shouldn’t have taken that bet.”

Taiga muffles laughter in his sleeve beside Juri. Their eyes meet again, bright with shared mirth over their friends’ antics.

Taiga gifts him a smile so radiant it steals Juri’s breath away.

🩷

Taiga paces back and forth along the expansive Lindblum airship dock, unable to contain his nervous energy. The late morning sun beats down on him, warm against his face despite the breeze sweeping in from the nearby ocean. Overhead, fluffy white clouds scud swiftly across the brilliant blue sky.

It’s a perfect day for flying. And soon, if all goes well, the Prima Vista will come gliding in with two very precious passengers aboard — Sakura’s parents, Hideki and Junko.

And Taiga’s biological parents.

The thought makes Taiga’s heart race all over again. He glances distractedly around the dock, desperate for any distraction from his churning thoughts.

Yugo leans casually against a stack of crates, keeping one watchful eye on Taiga while scanning the skies. His stance appears relaxed, but Taiga knows him well enough to detect the subtle tension lingering in his frame.

Nearby, Kento and Fuma lounge on a bench beneath the shade of the dock’s high wooden awning. Kento smiles indulgently every time Taiga’s restless pacing brings him back into view.

“No need to wear a hole in the boards, my friend,” Kento calls lightly. “I’m sure they’ll arrive shortly.”

Taiga just shakes his head, throat too tight to manage more than a terse hum of acknowledgment. He quickens his steps, gaze darting skyward again compulsively. Wisps of cloud sail by, none coalescing into familiar airship silhouettes.

A gentle hand catching his elbow makes Taiga pause mid-stride. He turns to find Juri regarding him solemnly, a crease of understanding furrowing his brow.

“Hey, deep breaths,” Juri murmurs. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Taiga tries for a wan smile, but it wobbles perilously. He presses both palms over his thudding heart. “Forgive me. It seems all my lessons on maintaining courtly decorum vanish in the face of …” His breath shudders out. “Gods, I’m about to meet my true family for the first time.”

Juri’s hand remains a steadying pressure on his arm, touch feather-light but comforting. “I know it’s scary,” he says gently. "But they already love you, Taiga. This just makes it officially real."

At Juri’s reassuring smile, some of the panicked tension leeches from Taiga’s frame. He sighs unsteadily, leaning into that subtle contact. “Thank you for remaining a voice of reason through my flights of folly.”

“Hey, that’s what I’m here for.” Juri’s teasing grin warms his eyes, making Taiga’s own lips quirk helplessly in return.

The tender moment stretches, neither inclined to step away. But then Yugo makes a low noise in his throat, shaking Taiga abruptly from the shared reverie. He turns to find Yugo watching them both with an inscrutable expression.

Heat floods Taiga’s cheeks at having this unguarded moment witnessed. He fumbles for some harmless remark to explain away the intimacy, but further excuses stick in his throat.

Mercifully, Sakura chooses that moment to emerge onto the airship dock, features schooled into her usual stoic mask. But Taiga notes the subtle way her fingers twist together where arms cross tightly over her chest. Nerves plague her as well, it seems.

Taiga moves to offer some meaningless platitude, but the words transform into a choked gasp. There, cresting the distant hills fringed by swaying trees, twin plumes of smoke herald the Prima Vista weaving towards them through the vivid autumn foliage.

“Here they come,” Jesse calls needlessly, grin apparent in his voice.

The airship cruises closer with stately grace, hull glinting beneath the high sun. Taiga’s knees wobble dangerously as the Prima Vista maneuvers expertly into its waiting berth. He sways on his feet, lightheaded, until Juri’s hand settles discreetly at his back bolstering him upright.

After agonizing minutes, the gangplank lowers at last. Hokuto and Shintaro descend first, the latter eagerly waving a cheerful greeting. Taiga notes Hokuto’s indulgent smile as their joined hands swing lightly between them.

But when Hideki leads Junko carefully down the ramp, all else fades for Taiga. His breath stalls at the sight of this woman who gave him life, entrancing features so like Sakura’s own. Hideki keeps one supportive arm around his wife as they descend to the solid dock.

Sakura forgets composure entirely, voice cracking on a broken “Mother!” as she rushes into Junko’s open embrace. Taiga hangs back hesitantly as they cling together, Hideki’s broad hand covering both their shoulders. His own eyes burn fiercely at this profound reunion playing out before him.

Then Junko turns, gaze unerringly finding Taiga’s own. A wealth of tender emotion shines openly across her face. She beckons him close with one outstretched hand. “Oh, my son …”

Taiga’s vision blurs alarmingly. He takes one faltering step, then another, until momentum carries him the remaining distance into his mother’s achingly familiar arms.

She cradles the back of his head, just like in fragmented dreams. Her next hushed words undo him entirely. “My sweet little Maya, you’ve come back to us.”

Taiga’s breath leaves him in a single fractured sob. He buries his face against her shoulder, finally allowing himself to break down in this haven of unconditional love. Junko simply holds him close, one hand rubbing gentle circles between his shoulders just like when he was still small enough to tuck against her heart.

Gradually, Taiga becomes aware of Hideki embracing his other side, completing the family circle. Sakura’s slender hand grips Taiga’s where it clutches desperately at Junko’s shawl, anchoring him amidst the overwhelming torrent.

At last, Taiga draws a quavering breath and lifts his head, dashing the lingering moisture from his cheeks in embarrassment. But tender joy shines through.

“I can scarcely believe this miracle,” he whispers hoarsely, gaze traveling wonderingly between both his parents’ faces. “After so long adrift … finally I am found.”

Junko cups his cheek, tattooed eyes shining with immeasurable love. “You were never truly lost, my son. Each precious moment of your journey has led you right where you were always meant to be.”

Her hand lifts, fingers brushing something at Taiga’s chest. He glances down to see the crystal pendant resting over his heart, glinting softly in the sunlight.

Junko gasps softly. “This necklace … I placed it around my darling boy before setting you adrift that terrible night.” Her fingers curl around the crystal pendant, eyes squeezing shut against the painful memories. “I cannot believe you still wear it, all these years later.”

Taiga covers Junko’s hand with his own, heart overflowing. “My mother … The late Queen of Alexandria … gave it to me. I thought it was her gift, but now I understand that it was a memento of a family I almost lost,” he rasps thickly.

Junko pulls Taiga fiercely close again, his sister and father wrapping them both in a shared embrace. Taiga sighs in profound contentment, the last missing piece of his spirit finally settling into place.

Whatever trials still await on the path ahead, at long last he is no longer alone.

Over the next few days, Taiga focuses intently on learning to control his fledgling summoner powers. Each morning as the sun peers over the horizon, he makes his way to the silent training grounds with his family to practice calling forth and channeling the fiery magic dwelling within him.

Hideki and Junko prove invaluable mentors, their decades of experience mastering elemental magic perfectly supplementing Sakura’s more recent training. Under their collective guidance, Taiga slowly progresses from wispy tongues of flame sputtering across his palm to conjuring a steady fireball that rests in hovering equilibrium just above his outstretched hands.

The first time Taiga sustains the flickering orb for a full minute without issue, exhilaration surges through him. He exchanges a wondering grin with Sakura.

“Well done, my son.” Hideki clasps Taiga’s shoulder, pride gleaming in his eyes. “You have admirable focus and control for one so new to his gifts.”

Junko smiles indulgently, brushing a few windswept strands of hair back from Taiga’s forehead. “He gets it from his father’s side, clearly.”

Sakura huffs a surprised laugh as Hideki flushes modestly beneath the praise. Taiga delights in this playful family dynamic, still scarcely believing he gets to be part of it now.

After two weeks of intense magical training, Taiga can summon and manipulate a fireball for an extended period with relative ease. He cannot help grinning fiercely when he extinguishes the hovering flames with a simple flick of his wrist.

Junko pulls him into a fierce embrace, smiling radiantly. “Well done, my brave boy! I always knew you possessed such wondrous gifts.”

Taiga returns the hug fiercely, her unconditional pride kindling warmth beneath his breastbone. “I could not have unlocked them without your guidance, Mother.” He glances between his family’s smiling faces, his heart overflowing. “Truly, I can never fully express my gratitude for the love and wisdom you selflessly provide.”

Sakura bumps his shoulder affectionately. “Just promise to use your power only for good, and that’s all the thanks we need.” Her eyes shine with sincerity despite the teasing lilt.

“You have my word.” Taiga inclines his head solemnly, picturing the lasting peace he hopes to broker between kingdoms rather than the mindless destruction his father envisions.

Hideki regards him intently, pride tempered by solemnity. “A summoner’s magic grows in tandem with their emotional maturity and wisdom. Resting within you still are embers which may yet ignite even greater gifts.” He smiles gently, squeezing Taiga’s shoulder. “But focus for now on mastery of fire. That shall suffice to light your way forward.”

Taiga nods, humbled by the trust placed in him. He swears silently to never betray that faith.

In the days that follow, Taiga’s training continues, but leaves ample time to simply enjoy his family's company. He delights in long talks with Hideki and Junko, learning more about life in their small village before it burned. Their peaceful community centered around knowledge, creativity, and reverence for the natural world. Taiga’s heart aches imagining the destruction of something so lovingly built.

His resolve firms daily to stop his father’s mindless campaign of bloodshed. King Masaki will only sow misery throughout Gaia if left unchecked. Taiga must help Kento and their allies make him see reason, one way or another.

One quiet afternoon as they recline together near the training grounds, Taiga shares his hopes with Junko. Her expression grows conflicted, clearly wrestling with maternal concern. But she takes Taiga’s hand gently in both of hers.

“You possess such compassion and wisdom, my son. If anyone can make the King of Alexandria understand the error of his ways, it may be you.” Junko sighs softly, eyes faraway and sad. “But think carefully on what future you envision for yourself once this conflict ends. Your family and your own happiness must come before duty.”

Taiga nods slowly, turning her advice over. In truth, he cannot fathom relinquishing the throne now, not when he knows the rot festering in Alexandria’s halls. But neither can he bear the thought of abandoning his newly regained family.

Junko seems to read his inner turmoil. She smooths his hair back and presses a kiss to his forehead. “You needn’t decide anything now. Just remember, wherever your path leads, we shall support you always.”

Reassured, Taiga gifts her a tremulous smile. He lays his head on her shoulder, the simplest touch still infusing him with profound belonging.

The murky future can wait a while longer. For now, Taiga focuses only on cherishing this time with the family he thought lost forever. Their love guides him steadily through wrestling with the immense power slowly awakening in his blood and spirit.

After bidding his family goodnight, Taiga makes his way back to the guest quarters in pensive silence. His thoughts churn with all Hideki and Junko imparted about summoner heritage and the immense power now awoken within him.

So distracted, he nearly walks straight into Jesse emerging from Yugo’s private chambers.

“Whoa, easy there!” Jesse catches Taiga’s shoulders, steadying them both. His casual grin falters noting Taiga’s obvious distraction. “Everything okay there, Your Highness?”

Taiga blinks, shaking himself back to the present. “Yes, apologies. My thoughts were elsewhere.” He offers an apologetic smile. “I did not expect to see you here so late.”

Jesse hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “Was just chatting with your pal Yugo. We get on well enough these days when there’s no prince to fight over.” He winks playfully. “I’ll leave you two be. Got my own rest to chase down.”

With an easy wave, Jesse ambles off down the corridor. Taiga watches him go, surprise and amusement welling unexpectedly. Perhaps Yugo and Jesse’s relationship has shifted without him noticing, preoccupied as he was with magical training.

Taiga steps inside to find Yugo peering contemplatively out the expansive window into night-shrouded gardens below. His profile, limned in silvery moonlight, appears weary but peaceful.

“Should I ask what brought Jesse here to entertain you this evening?” Taiga keeps his tone light, though curiosity burns within him.

Yugo turns, one eyebrow quirking upward. “Merely discussing adjustments to the guards’ patrols. Can’t be too cautious.” At Taiga’s knowing look, he huffs softly. “That rapscallion is not terrible company when given proper tasks to occupy him.”

“High praise indeed.” Taiga bites back a grin. “I should have Kento thank Jesse sometime for bolstering Lindblum’s defenses so dutifully.”

Yugo rolls his eyes with fond exasperation. “Yes, yes, very amusing. Now come tell me of your magical training progress.” He settles comfortably into an embroidered armchair, gaze attentive. “I regret being too hampered by injuries to witness your skills directly.”

Taiga joins him by the hearth, warmth kindling in his chest at Yugo’s interest. He summarizes the exhausting yet exhilarating work, feeling himself relax properly for the first time all day under his friend’s steadfast focus. They used to chat like this nightly back in Alexandria’s halls, burdens shared halving their heft.

When Taiga finishes recounting his accomplishments, comfortable silence lingers between them awhile. Then Yugo regards him solemnly, though not unkindly.

“And have you given more thought to your course once Lindblum marches on your father’s forces?”

Taiga sobers, smile fading. “Some. I still cannot envision relinquishing the throne, not when I’ve seen the rot festering within Alexandria's hall. But nor can I abandon my family now that they are found.” He drops his gaze, turmoil churning anew. “I know not how to reconcile both duties.”

Yugo makes a thoughtful noise. “You know, despite your lineage, none could contest your abdication now if you wish it. The Kyomoto name grants you no rights beyond King Masaki’s decree.”

Taiga blinks in surprise, turning the revelation over. As ever, Yugo’s practicality cuts through his aimless fretting.

“You make a fair point,” Taiga acknowledges. “I need not chain my fate to the throne merely by virtue of an adopted name.” Cautious hope swells in his chest. “Do you believe my goals for Alexandria could still be accomplished in an advisory role?”

“I’ve no doubt you could guide the kingdom toward reconciliation even without a crown,” Yugo affirms. His knowing look turns gently teasing. “Speaking of forging new paths ... I see the way you look at a certain roguish thief.”

Taiga flushes, ducking his head self-consciously. Of course, Yugo’s keen eye would note his growing regard for Juri. “You believe affection could bloom between classes so disparate as a prince and a thief?” he asks uncertainly.

Yugo’s stare sharpens. “Juri is no courtier content to linger in gilded cages. Take care your fondness does not bind him when the battle ends.”

The gentle warning pierces Taiga’s heart. He never considered Juri might slip beyond his reach once their shared duties expire. The thought leaves him unaccountably bereft.

Yugo's expression softens with sympathy. He clasps Taiga’s shoulder. “Just remember, you must forge your own path first in this new life. All else follows after.”

Taiga sighs past the tightness in his throat but nods in understanding. “You speak wisdom as ever, my friend.” He forces a weary smile. “Come now, enough solemn talk. Ought we seek some distraction from burdens of the coming days?”

Yugo’s answering grin promises mischief. “Shall we raid the kitchens like truant youths once more?”

Taiga laughs, buoyed by nostalgia. Together they slip off in search of adventure within the castle walls, leaving talk of destinies and futures for another time.

Tonight, Taiga focuses only on treasuring the uncomplicated joy of having his closest companion by his side to share troubles or simple camaraderie.

But Yugo’s quiet words linger in Taiga’s thoughts as they weave their way along moonlit corridors. However entwined their fates seem now, he must accept matters of the heart remain ever uncertain.

💙

Juri wakes to rays of morning sun filtering through the expansive window of his lavish quarters in Lindblum Castle. He stretches leisurely beneath the plush blankets, muscles pleasantly loose after a restful night’s sleep. The grandeur of his royal accommodations still amazes him even after several weeks staying as guests of King Kento.

After washing up in the adjoined bathing chamber, Juri dresses and makes his way to the solar they have claimed as their meeting spot. Voices echo up the corridor as he approaches the doorway. Inside, Jesse sits solemnly at the large table while Hokuto and Shintaro lounge close together on an embroidered settee, speaking in hushed tones.

Jesse looks up and beckons Juri over with a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Grab some breakfast. We got things to discuss.”

Unease prickles down Juri’s spine, but he snags a flaky pastry and sprawls into a cushioned chair near his friends. “So, what's going on? You look serious for once.”

Jesse sighs, scrubbing a hand roughly through his hair. “King Masaki sent a letter demanding Lindblum surrender Prince Taiga and Yugo, to be tried as traitors of Alexandria, or else.” His mouth twists bitterly. “Says he’ll ‘mercifully’ spare the kingdom if we hand over the supposed traitors. As if he wouldn’t seize any excuse to invade.”

Juri blows out a sharp breath, dismayed but unsurprised by this development. “Let me guess, Kento has some crazy plan brewing to get us out of this mess?”

“You know him well.” Jesse shakes his head wryly before sobering again. “The King wants our help getting Taiga and Yugo back to Alexandria. Says he’ll use the hand-off as chance for us and some of his best soldiers to sneak in and disable their forces from inside.”

He looks between the three thieves solemnly. “It’s risky business playing decoy to distract while they sabotage things. But King Kento wants to avoid outright war if possible. He asked for our decision — opt out gracefully, or join up to help end this without bloodshed.”

Jesse levels his gaze seriously. “I know sticking our necks out don’t come easy. But way I figure, we got something personal stake in this, seeing as we’re the reason the prince and his pal got dragged here in the first place.”

A tense pause hangs over the room. Hokuto and Shintaro exchange a silent look rich with meaning.

Eventually Hokuto sighs, mouth pinching unhappily. “I would prefer we avoid open conflict. This war is not ours to wage.” He squeezes Shintaro’s hand lightly where they rest entwined together. “We should depart gracefully, as you said.”

Shintaro nods, for once subdued. “Yeah, don’t really want to fight against a whole army. Let’s just get our share of treasure and fly off on the Prima Vista. We always said stealing keeps life exciting enough, right?”

Jesse hums noncommittally, clearly wrestling some internal debate. Then his eyes flick expectantly to Juri. “What say you then? Opt out, or sign on to help our royal friends for possibly the craziest caper yet?”

All eyes turn to Juri, awaiting his stance. He shifts under the combined weight of their stares, emotions at war within him. His people suffered greatly beneath Alexandrian tyranny, including his own father. Part of Juri burns to stand with Taiga and Lindblum, to oppose King Masaki’s warmongering.

But open war terrifies him. Since when did their merry band of thieves become embroiled in deadly political conflicts?

“I …” Juri scrubs both hands roughly through his hair, conflicted loyalties gnawing at him. “I want to help Taiga however I can. But this fight might become more than we bargained for.” He looks entreatingly at Jesse. “There’s really no way to fix things without violence?”

Jesse just shakes his head regretfully. “Men like King Masaki don’t stop their conquests through pretty words diplomacy alone. If the prince can’t make his old man see reason, war is inevitable.”

Hokuto studies Juri across the table, eyes sharp and assessing. “You fear what will happen to you and the prince once this conflict ends.” He states it plainly as fact, though not unkindly.

Juri’s breath hitches, the observation piercing his heart. He looks away, throat working helplessly. Hokuto’s uncanny insight exposes vulnerabilities he’d rather keep hidden, even from himself.

Across from him, understanding dawns on Jesse’s face. He sighs, regarding Juri sympathetically. “Yeah, figured there might be some, uh, personal stakes making this choice tougher for you.”

Juri flushes, hackles rising at having his inner turmoil read so plainly. But he forces a careless shrug, aiming for nonchalance. “I mean, the guy’s nice enough for a prince, but we’re still just his kidnappers turned bodyguards, nothing more.”

The excuse sounds hollow and unconvincing even to his own ears. Jesse clearly doesn’t buy it either, one brow quirking upward skeptically.

Hokuto’s stare remains far too knowing for Juri’s comfort. “Be mindful where your heart leads, Juri,” he cautions sagely. “If you choose to stand by the prince after the war, the life of royalty is not one you would welcome, I think.”

Shame burns in Juri’s cheeks at the gentle warning. He knows Hokuto speaks the truth — as much as Juri may wish to remain at Taiga’s side, he chafes at the stifling demands of courtly life. And after this conflict ends, Taiga will likely ascend his rightful throne. Juri can scarcely envision a stable future between a prince and a roguish peasant thief.

But even comprehending the futility of his affection cannot fully quell the tender feelings Taiga inspires within him.

Juri forces a careless laugh, aiming to diffuse the uncomfortable insight hovering over the table. “Yeah, yeah, you know me. Could never handle being tied down by all those stuffy royal rules.”

Hokuto simply arches one brow, seeing straight through the bluster. Juri feels his cheeks heat further but barrels doggedly ahead.

“But hey, helping take down a warmongering tyrant sounds like a worthwhile cause in my book. At least we’d get a hell of a story out of it, right?” He infuses the words with false bravado, hoping the weak jesting covers his conflicted heart.

Hokuto’s stare remains uncomfortably shrewd, but he merely inclines his head. “If you feel this crusade worth the risk, we shall stand united.”

Shintaro perks up beside him. “Yeah! Could be fun stirring up some real trouble in old man Kyomoto’s palace.” His grin turns sly. “And I bet we’ll get first pick of treasure when we’re done bringing that place down.” Despite Juri’s misgivings, excitement kindles in Shintaro’s eyes at the prospect of imminent chaos.

Hokuto indulges him with a fond pat atop his messy head. “I suppose my skills may prove useful if we aim to infiltrate discreetly.” His solemn stare settles on Juri again, understanding and concern equally mixed. “Just be mindful where your heart leads once this conflict ends.”

Chastened, Juri simply nods. Hokuto speaks wisdom as ever. He cannot lose himself recklessly to tender feelings doomed to expire once their shared crusade concludes.

Jesse claps his hands decisively, dispelling the pensive mood. “Right, it’s settled then. We throw our lot in with Lindblum against Alexandria for now. Whatever comes next, we face together as always.”

His steady confidence heartens Juri enough to offer a genuine smile. United with his found family, they can weather any coming storm. He repeats Jesse’s words like a mantra — whatever comes next, we face together.

For now, that truth must sustain him.

Later that day, King Kento calls everyone together to announce the contents of the threatening letter he received from King Masaki. Just as Jesse had warned, Masaki demands that Kento surrender Taiga and Yugo as alleged traitors, or else Lindblum would face violent retribution from Alexandria's forces.

“While I doubt agreeing to this farce of justice would truly spare Lindblum from his armies, perhaps it presents an opportunity,” Kento says solemnly. “If you and Yugo are willing, we can use the hand off as distraction for a covert team to infiltrate the palace and disable their forces from within.” He looks to Taiga beseechingly. “It is a desperate gambit, I know. But if it spares my people — and the innocent ones in Alexandria — outright war, I must try.”

As expected, Taiga inclines his head without hesitation. “I swore I would stand with Lindblum against tyranny. If playing decoy furthers that cause, I shall do so willingly.”

Yugo grumbles but nods, not about to let his prince march into peril alone.

The rest of the evening passes swiftly as they finalize strategies for the infiltration team — comprised of the Tantalus thieves, including Sakura, and a few of Lindblum’s top soldiers. Taiga, Yugo, and Hokuto pore over secret passageways into the sprawling palace, planning entry points and routes through its maze-like halls.

Hideki and Junko listen with furrowed brows, maternal concern plain on Junko’s face as she watches her newly reunited son prepare to deliver himself straight into peril. Eventually, she can remain silent no longer.

“This plan courts grave danger,” she says sharply. “True peace is not won through guile and trickery.”

Hideki lays a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Yet open war would sow only further suffering.” His eyes shine with sympathy. “If we must fight, let it be through cunning that spares innocent blood.”

Junko presses her lips together tightly, clearly wrestling maternal concern. But she relents with a terse nod.

Taiga takes her hands gently within his own. “Worry not, I shall take no unnecessary risks. With luck, we end this tyranny without lives lost on either side.” His voice rings with conviction despite the enormous weight of expectations suddenly upon his young shoulders.

Sakura lays a bracing hand on her mother’s shoulder. “I will guard my brother with my life,” she vows fiercely.

Junko sighs in reluctant acquiescence, clearly wrestling profound disquiet. But she pulls both her children into a fierce embrace, pride shining through her worry.

Juri aches at the unfair burden, wishing he could spirit Taiga away somewhere untouched by brewing war. But he knows Taiga’s compassionate heart would never allow it.

As the strategy meeting adjourns, Taiga’s gaze finds Juri’s, holding it meaningfully. A silent promise passes between them — we protect each other, come what may.

Later, as sunset gilds the white towers of Lindblum in molten gold, Juri wanders the open corridors restlessly. His thoughts churn too violently to settle tonight. As he passes an arched balcony, movement catches his eye. Taiga stands silhouetted against the vivid sky, features limned in fire as he gazes pensively outward.

Juri joins him wordlessly at the railing, contenting himself with quiet companionship. But he notes the pensive pinch between Taiga’s brows, the rigid set of his shoulders beneath elegant robes.

“Heavy thoughts?” Juri asks gently.

Taiga sighs, a bone-deep weariness seeming to weigh upon him. “I confess, part of me remains confounded that my adoptive father could disavow me so completely.” His mouth twists bitterly. “And yet, another part acknowledges I should feel relief at shedding duty to his tarnished lineage.”

Juri’s breath catches at the conflicted grief in Taiga's voice. He remembers their moonlit conversation after Taiga first learned the shocking truth of his origins. The revelation had shattered the prince’s identity, unmooring him from all he once understood as immutable fact.

On impulse, Juri touches Taiga’s shoulder. “What if … you didn’t have to return at all? You could see the world instead, free of courtly chains.”

Taiga turns sharply, surprise flashing across his delicate features. “Abdicate completely, you mean?” At Juri’s hesitant nod, something dangerously akin to hope kindles in his eyes. “A compelling notion, though I scarcely know anything beyond palace walls.”

Excitement flares in Juri’s chest. “All the more reason to experience life firsthand! We’re in Lindblum already — I could show you the markets, the people, everything!”

Taiga blinks, clearly wrestling the unexpected prospect. But then he gifts Juri a smile of dawning delight. “Why not? I should like to glimpse how people live beyond courtly trappings.”

They both startle at a derisive snort behind them. Jesse leans against a pillar, lips quirked in a knowing grin. “Sounds like you two are fixin’ to sneak out. Good thing you got me to chaperone this little excursion.”

Taiga presses lips together, poorly smothering a laugh. “Indeed, we shall require Lindblum’s finest guide to explore its perils.” Mischief glints in his eyes. “Please fetch Yugo. His knowledge of disguises will prove useful for slipping away unnoticed.”

Soon they’ve acquired suitable attire to help Taiga and Yugo blend into the city crowds. Taiga’s simple peasant clothes make him breathtakingly lovely and unexpectedly approachable. As they pick their way discreetly down vine-covered trellises and empty servants’ stairways, Juri thrills at the feeling of Taiga’s slender frame pressed against his back for guidance.

Once beyond the castle walls, Taiga looks around with naked awe, drinking in the lively sights and sounds. His innocent wonder strikes a tender chord in Juri’s heart. They stroll the busy market stalls together, Taiga asking endless eager questions that Juri answers indulgently.  When Taiga impulsively buys hot dumplings for a group of street urchins, Juri falls a little harder for this prince so unlike all the rest.

As if sensing his stare, Taiga glances over with a radiant smile just for him. Juri’s breath catches, the moment stretching honey-slow.

As the sun dips low, village musicians strike up a lively tune in the central square. Taiga’s eyes shine with delight as he takes in the swirling dancers. Impulsively, Juri tugs him into the throng, laughing breathlessly as he spins the willing prince through the steps. Taiga’s radiant joy illuminates his beauty even further, leaving Juri captivated.

The music swells dizzyingly around them as they whirl together beneath the dusky sky. Taiga’s crystal pendant bounces softly against his throat, pulling Juri’s gaze to the tempting skin just above his open collar. They sway closer, carried by momentum and giddy exhilaration.

The dance climaxes, their faces bare inches apart. Taiga’s lips part softly, eyes slipping shut.

Juri sways forward, helpless against the gravity of the moment —

A shout precedes Jesse crashing into them, toppling everyone into an ungraceful pile. Yugo snarls in offense beneath Jesse’s sprawled form. The tense spell breaks as laughter and good-natured scolding chase away the charged atmosphere.

Reluctantly, they make their way back through shadowed streets toward the looming palace. Taiga’s hand brushes Juri’s as they walk, sending sparks skittering across his skin. Neither pull away, fingers tangling together heedless of propriety.

Outside Taiga’s chamber, their joined hands finally register. Taiga stills, throat bobbing uncertainly.

Impulse overtakes reason, and Juri leans in to brush the softest kiss across Taiga’s parted lips before doubt can take root.

Taiga inhales sharply, hand coming up to cradle Juri’s jaw. For one quavering heartbeat, he hesitates. Then Taiga kisses back with tender fervor, their joined breaths and racing pulses drowning out the world around them.

When they finally part just enough to meet each other’s dazed eyes, understanding passes between them. Wordlessly, Taiga tugs Juri into his bedchamber, the door clicking shut behind them.

Inside the plush quarters, Taiga leads Juri over to the massive canopied bed, their joined hands clinging tightly together. Moonlight spills through the open balcony doors, lining Taiga’s features in ethereal silver as he sits gingerly atop the embroidered coverlet.

Juri stands before him, heart lodged in his throat. The full import of what they’re about to share steals his breath away. With utmost care, he settles beside Taiga, searching his face for any hesitance. But Taiga only gifts him a tremulous smile brimming with trust.

Unable to resist, Juri leans in again, capturing Taiga’s lips in a kiss that begins feather-light but swiftly deepens. Taiga’s arms creep around his shoulders, fingers tangling desperately in his hair as their mouths move together with tender urgency.

When they finally part to gulp lungfuls of air, both are smiling unguardedly. Taiga’s next awed whisper fans across Juri’s heated skin. “Is it always this wondrous?”

The innocent yearning in his voice makes something fiercely protective unfurl within Juri’s chest. He sweeps one thumb over Taiga’s kiss-swollen bottom lip. “I’ll make sure this first time is perfect for you,” he vows solemnly.

Taiga surges forward, kissing him fiercely. “It already is,” he insists breathlessly between ardently seeking lips. “Because it’s you here with me.”

Emotion swells thickly in Juri’s throat. He tangles both hands into Taiga’s silken hair, overcome by profound tenderness. They trade passionate kisses until Taiga arches desperately against him, lips parting on a fractured gasp.

“Please, Juri … I need to feel you.”

The raw plea shatters the last of Juri’s restraint. With utmost care, he lowers Taiga back onto the plush bedding. Their clothing vanishes piece by piece between hungry kisses until nothing separates their feverish skin.

Taiga clings to him, gasps turning to overwhelmed sobs beneath Juri’s worshipful exploration. He takes his time preparing Taiga thoroughly, determined to bring only pleasure to one so precious.

At last they join fully, Taiga’s breathy cries urging Juri deeper. He moves slowly despite primal instinct demanding more, letting Taiga adjust around him. The world beyond ceases to exist. Nothing else matters except chasing that ultimate shared rapture.

When ecstasy finally crests and breaks over them both, Taiga’s shout of completion resonates through Juri’s spirit. He collapses atop his prince, their hearts thundering in tandem.

As sweat cools on bare skin, Juri shifts just enough to avoid crushing Taiga’s slighter frame beneath him. Their legs remain tangled together, neither willing to lose the intimate connection yet.

Taiga drapes himself half across Juri’s chest, cheek pillowed over his heart. “Promise you’ll never leave my side,” he whispers.

Juri presses a fierce kiss to Taiga's tousled hair. “I’m yours in whatever way you’ll have me. Now and always.”

He knows harsh realities wait to intrude come morning’s light, but cannot bring himself to voice the warnings. Not when Taiga clings to him so trustingly, serenity smoothing both their faces as sleep’s veil descends.

This perfect stolen moment belongs only to them.

Whatever comes next, they face together, war be damned.

🩷

The early morning sun filters through the sheer curtains, rousing Taiga slowly from sleep. For a blissful moment, memories of the passionate night before remain pleasantly fuzzy in his mind. Then awareness filters in along with a fierce blush as he takes in Juri's slumbering form beside him, features softened charmingly by sleep.

Unable to resist, Taiga brushes feather-light fingers through Juri’s mussed hair. The intimate contact stirs Juri awake. He grins up at Taiga, eyes warm with leftover tenderness that makes Taiga's heart stutter unexpectedly.

“Hey you,” Juri murmurs, voice rough from sleep. He trails lazy fingers down Taiga’s arm. “For a second I thought last night was just a really good dream.”

Taiga smiles and leans in to kiss him softly. “It was like a dream,” he agrees, “but wonderfully real.”

They trade languid kisses as hands wander slowly, relearning each other’s bodies in the golden morning light. Desire simmers beneath Taiga’s skin, not the frantic urgency of their first joining, but something gentler yet no less profound.

Juri seems to sense it too. He caresses Taiga reverently, drawing out tender sighs and breathy gasps until they are both shaking, suspended on the precipice.

When at last they crest the wave together, Taiga cries out brokenly, the sound muffled in Juri’s shoulder. After, they remain wrapped up in each other, trading soft kisses as their heartbeats gradually calm.

Fingers trailing idly across Juri's chest, Taiga gathers his courage before whispering, “Juri, will you wait for me?”

Juri stills, regarding Taiga curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Once this conflict with my father ends, I … I cannot simply abandon my duties in Alexandria.” Taiga bites his lip, anxiety creeping in. “But I will not claim the throne myself either. At least, not forever. There must be another fitter to rule, someone I can advise and guide into dismantling the rot within the court.”

Hopeful eyes seek out Juri’s tender gaze. “It may take time to enact such change. But if your heart remains true, I wish for you to stay by my side through it all.” He swallows hard, laying himself bare. “Will you wait for me?”

Juri is silent for so long that Taiga despairs his answer. But then Juri frames his face in both hands, a smile dawning radiant across his face.

“Didn’t I already promise you always?” Juri asks gently. He kisses Taiga until they’re both breathless. “Wherever this journey leads, know my heart is yours. I’ll wait as long as it takes for us to find our way back together.”

Joyful tears slip down Taiga’s cheeks. He kisses Juri fiercely, trying to convey overwhelming gratitude and love through the contact alone.

They lose themselves for a time, wrapped up in each other. But then the bedchamber door crashes open without warning.

“Taiga, I thought we could breakfast together, so should I have a tray brought here or — Oh!”

Yugo’s shocked exclamation makes Taiga jump. He scrambles to clutch the silken bedsheets over his bare torso in a vain attempt at modesty. Beside him, an equally undressed Juri winces at the rude interruption.

Yugo stands frozen, features cycling comically through stark surprise and building outrage. “Unhand him this instant!” he bellows, reflexively reaching for a sword usually belted at his hip but notably absent now.

Mortified, Taiga stands hurriedly, keeping the sheet wrapped around himself. “Yugo, please, everything is fine!” he exclaims. “Juri cares for me deeply, we only —"

“Hey, heard shouting, everything oka—whoa!” Jesse appears behind Yugo then, taking in the scene with obvious glee. He waggles his eyebrows at Juri before grabbing the sputtering guard’s arm. “C’mon pal, let’s give the lovebirds some privacy, eh?”

Over Yugo’s continued protests, Jesse forcibly drags him from the room and shuts the door.

In the ensuing silence, Taiga meets Juri’s eyes. After a startled beat, they both dissolve into mortified but relieved laughter.

“Well, that’s one way to announce things,” Juri quips, tugging Taiga back down beside him.

Taiga sighs, nuzzling into Juri’s shoulder. “I suppose subtlety is lost on my dearest friend.” He smiles ruefully against Juri’s skin. “Though now I must make him understand my affection for you remains unshaken.”

Juri kisses Taiga’s hair. “We’ll face it together. But first …” He captures Taiga’s lips again, previous passion reigniting swiftly.

Eventually and reluctantly, they untangle themselves to dress for breakfast, trading occasional playful touches and stolen kisses. Taiga’s heart feels full to bursting. Whatever awaits them outside this room, Juri’s steadfast devotion fortifies his spirit.

With Juri beside him, he is ready for anything.

The airship glides smoothly through clouded skies toward Alexandria City, twin plumes of smoke streaming behind its gleaming hull. On the observation deck, Taiga stands with hands braced on the railing, watching the distant spires of his former kingdom inch ever closer. Apprehension and resolve war within him, but his face remains an impassive mask honed by long years navigating courtly intrigue.

Within the hour, he and Yugo will offer themselves up as scapegoats to buy time for Kento’s covert team to sneak into Alexandria castle and disable its forces from within. A desperate gambit to avoid outright war, but one Taiga prays may sway his father from this destructive path.

Booted footsteps sound behind him, too light to be Yugo's familiar tread. Taiga’s lips quirk when Juri joins him at the railing, shoulder bumping his companionably.

“No second thoughts, right?” Juri asks, eyeing him sidelong. Beneath the teasing tone, concern lurks plain as day.

Taiga’s smile turns wry. “On the contrary, second, third, and fourth thoughts abound.” He sighs, leaning into Juri’s steadying presence. “But this is the course my conscience compels me toward, come what may.”

Juri shakes his head, grin fondly exasperated. “You and that princely conscience. Most guys would just say ‘to hell with him’ and never look back.”

Despite Juri’s joking manner, Taiga senses the subtle invitation to simply turn away from his father's toxic legacy. Part of him yearns to accept, to abandon the duties trammeling his spirit. But the earnest entreaty in Kento’s eyes roots Taiga firm in his decision.

He lays a hand over Juri’s where it rests on the railing. “You know I cannot stand idly by when placed to do good for my people.” At Juri's indulgent huff, Taiga turns serious. “And I confess, regardless of grievances between us, he is the only father I have known up until a few days ago.”

Juri sobers at the conflict in Taiga’s voice. His thumb strokes soothingly over Taiga’s knuckles. “Yeah, figured there were still some complicated feelings there.”

Gratitude wells in Taiga’s chest. He rests his head on Juri’s shoulder with a tired sigh. “I suppose my final act of love is to save him from himself before he becomes a monster beyond redemption.”

They stand awhile in pensive silence as white towers mar the distant horizon ahead. But anxieties soon give way to restlessness, and Juri nudges Taiga playfully. “Well, since we got time to kill, how ‘bout taking in the sights of our luxurious quarters aboard this fine vessel?”

A surprised laugh escapes Taiga’s throat. Trust Juri to lift his spirits amidst the gloom. “By all means, lead the tour,” he replies, smile growing coy.

Allowing himself to be tugged along by their joined hands awakens a giddy spark of spontaneity within Taiga. For these precious stolen hours, he focuses only on memorizing Juri’s devilish grin, the warmth of his arms, the passion in his kiss …

Afterward, they lie tangled together atop rough linen sheets, listening to the thrum of engines and each other’s slowing heartbeats. Fingers trailing idly across Juri’s bare chest, Taiga voices the thoughts plaguing him.

“What will you do … after?” He keeps his tone light despite the sudden vise around his heart.

Juri yawns luxuriously. “Oh, mooch around with the Tantalus I guess. Plenty of odd jobs need doing that don’t involve thievery.” He rolls up onto one elbow, studying Taiga’s pensive face. “Why, think you'll miss me or something?”

Taiga bites his lip. “Perhaps …” He forces a teasing lilt to mask the genuineness beneath. “Surely some lovely rogue will catch your eye one day, more available than a prince bound by duty.”

Juri silences him with a fierce kiss. “Never gonna happen,” he vows vehemently once they part. “You’re stuck with me, Your Highness.”

Overwhelmed, Taiga pulls Juri down again, pouring all he cannot yet say into searing kisses as their joined bodies convey promises no words can encapsulate.

For now, wrapped securely in Juri’s embrace, Taiga lets his anxieties drift away on the horizon’s distant haze. Together they have weathered betrayal, revelation, upheaval … and together they shall face whatever comes next.

The airship glides smoothly over Alexandria’s outer forests towards the looming palace complex. Onboard, Taiga stands rigid beside Yugo as they await arrival, heart pounding in his throat.

They exchange a tense look as the vessel nears the palace’s crown of gleaming towers. So long ago since Taiga last glimpsed these familiar spires, though they now carry an air of foreboding rather than homecoming.

Yugo grasps Taiga’s shoulder firmly. “Stay strong,” he murmurs. “Do not lose faith in yourself.”

Taiga swallows thickly and nods. Yugo’s steady reassurance bolsters his fraying courage.

Jesse and Juri return from the upper deck dressed in false Lindblum armor to maintain the ruse. They set to work binding Taiga and Yugo’s wrists loosely with ropes.

“Gotta make this look convincing,” Jesse quips, though his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

Yugo endures the indignity with a scowl. “Yes, do take care to not enjoy this too much, rogue.”

Jesse smirks while tugging the ropes firmer. “I’ll try to restrain myself.”

Taiga hides a smile at their banter, the familiar back-and-forth easing his nerves somewhat. He meets Juri’s gaze as the thief finishes securing the knotted ropes around his wrists.

“Almost there,” Juri murmurs, lips quirking. “Just remember to act defeated.”

Despite his anxiety, Taiga lets slip a soft huff of laughter. Leave it to Juri to diffuse the tension with his charm. He offers a small, grateful smile before schooling his features into resigned nobility befitting a shamed prisoner.

At last, the rumbling engines still as the airship settles into its waiting berth. Taiga steels himself as the exit ramp lowers. Showtime.

Flanked by Jesse and Juri, Taiga descends with grace still befitting a prince, Yugo trailing behind wearing a glower meant to intimidate.

As expected, Lieutenant Yuma awaits them on the bustling docks. His scarred face twists into cruel satisfaction seeing Taiga and Yugo bound like criminals. To their relief, he doesn’t seem to recognize Jesse and Juri, helmets secured to ensure that they weren’t recognized from their clash with Yuma in Burmecia.

“The traitors arrive at last,” he intones. “I will take it from here. I shall bring them to face the king’s justice.”

Juri straightens sharply. “Our orders are to deliver the prisoners directly to King Masaki.” He levels Yuma with a challenging stare. “For their immediate sentencing.”

Yuma bristles, but acquiesces after a silent battle of wills. He gestures for them to follow, malice smoldering in his glare.

Flanked by their false captors, Taiga and Yugo march between familiar opulent corridors now shrouded in gloom. Dread pools in Taiga’s stomach nearing the throne room that once felt like a second home. So much changed in a few short weeks …

At last, the massive gilded doors loom before them. Yuma shoves them open, clearly relishing this supposed victory delivering the shamed prince home in ropes.

Squaring his shoulders, Taiga strides down the long crimson carpet bisecting rows of petitioners and assembled nobility. He keeps his stare aimed straight ahead at the throne’s occupant.

King Masaki looks upon Taiga as a stranger, no trace of paternal affection in his flinty gaze. Unease needles Taiga’s heart. Was there ever any real bond between them?

“My wayward son returns at last,” Masaki intones coldly. “You stand accused of treason most grave. What defense do you offer before receiving your sentence?”

The courtiers titter and jeer at the bold challenge. Taiga ignores them, clinging to the fraying shreds of his composure. This is his last chance to make the father who raised him see reason.

“The only treason was believing myself heir to a legacy built on lies and blood,” Taiga replies evenly. He meets Masaki’s hard stare beseechingly. “But it is not too late. Abandon this destructive path, Father. Let us forge a new era of —"

Masaki’s derisive laugh cuts Taiga off harshly.

“Still you cling to childish ideals of unity in the face of your betrayal. I have no son.” He slams a fist down. “You will serve only as the weapon I crafted you to be in my conquest.”

Shouts rise up from the assembled nobility, demanding Taiga's head. He stares up at this stranger wearing his father's face, despair flooding in.

The kind man who raised him is gone, consumed fully at last by tyrannical ambition. No words exist to bring Masaki back from this brink.

Taiga’s shoulders slump in defeat. War is now truly their only recourse.

💙

Juri watches helplessly as Taiga’s expression falls, the prince clearly crestfallen that his impassioned plea for peace has fallen on deaf ears. King Masaki sits aloof upon his imposing gilded throne atop the grand dais, the grandeur of his fur-lined silken robes and jewel-encrusted crown turned grotesque now by the evident cruelty and tyrannical ambition warping his once kind features. He sneers down imperiously at the adopted son who dared question his relentless warmongering, eyes cold and calculating.

“I offered you mercy in return for loyalty, yet still you cling to foolish childish ideals of unity.” Masaki’s lip curls derisively as he regards the shamed prince. “You are no true son of mine. The only use someone of your corrupted weak spirit offers now is as a weapon against those who defy my divine will!”

Anguished shouts rise up from the assembled mass of nobles and knights crowded along the crimson-carpeted throne room. They demand swift vengeance upon the treasonous prince and his traitorous royal guardian.

Juri tenses, fingers twitching toward the daggers strapped beneath his suit of armor. Beside him on the expansive dais, Taiga’s slender shoulders slump beneath the crushing weight of his failure to sway the profoundly corrupted king from this destructive path.

He scans the vast ornate throne room desperately, gaze darting across scornful faces for any sign of his disguised companions among the jeering crowds.

There! Half-obscured in shadows behind a soaring marble column, he finally spots Hokuto’s lithe form tucked strategically out of sight thanks to his nondescript servant’s garb.

Their eyes meet across the churning opulent space. Hokuto’s nearly imperceptible nod confirms the exterior royal guards now lie disabled and distracted courtesy of the combined efforts of the Tantalus thieves and Lindblum soldiers. 

It is time to make their move.

Juri nudges Taiga subtly with his elbow, spurring the distraught prince into action.

Taiga visibly composes himself, squaring his slender shoulders. He fixes King Masaki with one final beseeching stare, eyes pleading for a shred of compassion that they both know will not come. When Taiga speaks, his clear voice rings out commandingly over the agitated din filling the cavernous chamber.

“Father, I pray you reconsider this madness before it destroys us all.” Taiga’s regal tone echoes through the vast space, momentarily silencing the chaos. “For the good of all your subjects, for the future of both our kingdoms, please … stop this!”

For the good of all. The subtle code phrase, uttered convincingly as a final heartfelt appeal. 

Juri notes Hokuto slide seamlessly from the shadows in response, arm drawing back in preparation beneath his concealing robes.

Immediately, a volley of small metal orbs sails through the smoky air from Hokuto’s hidden position near the columns. They detonate in a rapid succession of deafening explosions that spew out thick plumes of disorienting smoke around the entirety of the expansive throne room.

Chaos instantly erupts as courtiers scream in alarm and royal knights fumble frantically for weapons through the artificial fog now cloaking the dais and surrounding mezzanines.

Using the cover of confusion and blinded violence, Juri grasps the ropes twisted around Taiga’s bound wrists and slashes through them swiftly. The severed ties fall away, freeing the prince’s hands.

Nearby, Jesse mirrors Juri’s actions, his own dagger cutting away Yugo’s bonds with practiced efficiency. Their weapons glint dangerously in the hazy gloom as both thieves press them urgently into the hands of the newly liberated royals. 

Beside Juri, Taiga’s delicate features set into a resolute mask, jaw clenched stubbornly as he grips the proffered sword tightly in one hand. Determination blazes in his eyes alongside grief for the man his corrupted father used to be.

Juri flourishes his own twin daggers, muscles thrumming with adrenaline and anticipation. Around them, armored royal guards wielding viciously pointed halberds and broadswords emblazoned with the Alexandria royal crest begin emerging from the smoke like specters of violence. Juri bares his teeth at the nearest knight in a ferocious battle-hungry grin, blades poised to strike.

Let them come. He and Taiga will cut through them all to end this tyranny.

Juri leaps with fluid feline grace to meet the first attacking knight, ducking smoothly beneath the brute’s wild overhanded sword slash. Juri’s left-hand dagger flashes out in retaliation, biting ruthlessly through gaps of the guard’s gleaming armor. A well-placed blow behind the knee crumples the armored giant with a strangled shout of pain, sending him collapsing to the blood-slick marble clutching futilely at the back of his leg.

Yugo’s voice rings out fiercely over the clamor. “Let us teach these traitorous knights the true meaning of regret!” He lunges into the chaotic fray without hesitation, shoulders set determinedly beneath his shredded formal jacket as he lays into the confused guards with skillful sweeping blows of his broadsword. 

Juri throws himself into motion once more, blades slicing through the smoke with deadly precision. More of the elite royal knights loom out of the dissipating haze, their reflexes still clumsy with surprise at this unprecedented betrayal within their own stronghold. But Juri dances fluidly around their enraged strikes, grin growing ever more feral and exhilarated.

One by one the knights fall swiftly beneath his whirling steel, collapsing to the ornate throne room floor with muffled shouts of pain and resounding clangs of armor against marble.

In the spreading tumult, King Masaki abruptly slips away from his besieged dais, disappearing like a phantom through a concealed side door behind the bulk of his ostentatious throne.

“No!” Taiga cries in dismay, sprinting heedlessly after his corrupted father into the hidden passageway.

Juri moves immediately to follow, but the hulking armored form of the deranged Lieutenant Yuma suddenly blocks his path, broadsword gleaming thirstily in the flickering torchlight.

Unadulterated hatred smolders in Yuma’s wild eyes. “Not so fast, you meddling treasonous whelps,” he growls menacingly through bared teeth, shifting into a ready combat stance.

Yugo and Jesse instantly flank Juri on either side, facing down the dangerous knight with their own weapons braced.

“Go, we’ll handle this snake!” Jesse calls tersely to Juri over the din, daggers twirling in anticipation.

Beside him, Yugo gives a fierce nod, sword gripped tightly in both hands.

Trusting completely in the skill of his loyal friends, Juri nimbly ducks beneath Yuma’s enraged diagonal slash and races swiftly after Taiga through the revealed doorway.

He emerges cautiously from the hidden passage into a narrow torch-lit servants’ corridor. Up ahead, just turning the distant corner, Juri catches sight of the unmistakable hem of King Masaki’s voluminous ermine-lined ceremonial cloak as it vanishes from view.

Taiga glances back over his shoulder, clear relief flashing across his grimy sweat-streaked face at Juri’s arrival. Without needing to exchange a word, the two sprint onwards side-by-side beneath the shadowy stone arches. Juri’s pulse thunders urgently in his ears, lungs burning with exertion. He can only pray now they reach the deranged tyrannical king in time before Masaki manages to carry out whatever deadly plans for conquest and destruction dwell festering in his corrupted mind.

Juri and Taiga sprint side by side through the grandiose palace hallways. Intricate tapestries lining the corridors whip past in a blur as they dodge the occasional intercepting palace guard. Juri’s blades flash, deftly disarming each opponent with non-lethal precision. Beside him, Taiga neatly sidesteps a guard’s wild overhead swing, the whoosh of the sword cutting air mere inches from his sweat-dampened hair.

“Where do you think the king is running off to?” Juri asks tersely during a brief lull. His lungs burn with exertion, but urgency propels him onward relentlessly.

Taiga’s brow furrows in thought as he neatly trips another armored guard, sending the man crashing to the polished floor in a cacophony of clanging metal. “The observatory atop the west tower, most likely,” he speculates, only slightly short of breath despite their breakneck pace. “My father spent many secluded hours up there these past months tinkering with some mysterious project. None dared question his solitary obsession.”

They round a corner adorned with elaborate sconces flickering wildly in their wake. Both skid to an abrupt halt, chests heaving, as a contingent of guards blocks their way down the crimson-carpeted hall. The Alexandria crest glints menacingly across breastplates already splattered with blood from the ongoing skirmish.

Taiga lifts one slender hand as a dozen knights advance with weapons gleaming thirstily in the firelight. The crystal pendant at his throat glints fiercely as he summons power from deep within. An orb of dancing flames coalesces above his upturned palm.

With a guttural cry, Taiga hurls the spinning fireball down the hallway. Guards scream and dive aside, tapestries igniting in whooshing bursts, as the magical flames explode outward with concussive force.

“Let’s go!” Juri tugs Taiga’s sleeve urgently once the flames dissipate. Trusting Juri to guard his back, Taiga sprints through the lingering haze and scattered opposition.

At last, they reach an ornate wooden door left cracked invitingly open at the top of a tight, winding stone stairwell. From below, echoed shouts warn of their encroaching enemies. But beyond the door, the observatory lies eerily silent and still, untouched by the chaos engulfing the rest of the castle.

Juri presses a finger to his lips as they creep inside, senses on high alert. His eyes rapidly adjust to the dim glow of wall-mounted lamps barely penetrating the vast domed room. Strange shapes loom in the shadows between bulky furniture and piles of books strewn haphazardly atop every surface. Star charts plaster the curved walls, half-obscured by cramped notes and chaotic diagrams inked over the faded constellations.

As Taiga skims a few crinkled parchment pages, outrage wars with grief across his delicate features. “Father was studying ancient summoner magic and history,” he whispers tightly, knuckles bone-white where they clutch the damning evidence. “Trying to decipher spells to extract and replicate their power artificially …”

An ominous mechanical hum fills the observatory, reverberating off the soaring arched ceilings. Taiga and Juri whirl in unison toward the sound.

At the room’s heart, King Masaki stands behind an enormous mounted crystal, its jagged glow intensifying as he manipulates unseen controls just out of view.

Without warning, a massive beam of crackling violet energy erupts from the heart of the crystal. Juri lunges swiftly, tackling Taiga out of the deadly path. The blistering laser sears past overhead, piercing a heavy wooden table stacked with star charts that instantly ignite in a burst of sparks and ash.

King Masaki’s eyes blaze with heedless ambition, features contorted fanatically. “None shall stop my destiny to conquer all!” His voice rasps wildly, echoing through the high chamber as he swivels the massive crystal toward the sprawled thieves. Already the enormous gem pulses with another deadly charge. “With the strongest primal magic purged from your body, no one left alive can oppose Alexandria’s supremacy!" “

Revulsion twists Juri’s gut, outrage on behalf of Taiga’s stolen innocence overtaking primal fear. As Masaki takes aim again, Juri and Taiga scramble behind the dubious shelter of an overturned antique desk. Another scorching beam spears forth, blackening the stone floor mere inches from Juri’s boot tips.

“That cursed machine is designed to extract your magic,” Juri growls, mind racing desperately through options even as fury wars with the primal urge to protect what is most precious. “I’ll draw his fire, wait for any opening.”

Before Taiga can argue, Juri darts out from cover, rolling beneath another blistering beam that etches a smoking furrow across ancient floorboards. He weaves and dodges along the circumference of the vast room, never slowing his erratic motions despite protesting lungs and limbs.

Masaki adjusts his creation's trajectory smoothly, face contorted with heedless fixation. “Wretched vermin! Be gone from my sight!” His spittle flecks the air as another deadly beam spears forth.

Juri throws himself recklessly aside, the crystal’s glow intense enough now to illuminate the room in hellish hues. He is tiring, movements fractionally slower despite desperate determination. Too late, Juri sees the massive barrel swivel to align directly with his trajectory.

The crystal gives an earsplitting shriek, pulsing violently. Juri skids to a halt, paralyzed briefly by the promise of oblivion barreling down upon him. From across the observatory, Taiga’s panicked scream of his name slices through the chaos.

“Juri!”

Then blistering, white-hot agony beyond comprehension shreds through Juri’s chest, flinging him back limply to crack against the unforgiving stone. His head ricochets off the floor, vision smearing dangerously before narrowing to a pulsing tunnel focused only on drawing another agonized breath.

Through the suffocating haze, as if from a great distance, Juri glimpses Taiga fling a roiling mass of iridescent flames, channeled into a tight column that somehow, miraculously, punches straight through the terrible crystal. It shatters in a concussive burst that knocks Masaki to his own knees, face lit by arcs of uncontrolled energy and the flames now claiming his life's deranged work.

The last sight branding itself into Juri’s fading vision is King Masaki abandoning his smoldering ruin of machinery, scrambling heedlessly for the balcony and presumed escape. Juri cannot muster the strength to hope the fall kills the tyrant, a small vindictive part of him wishing the king an eternity suffering this same torment. Then merciful darkness swallows his scattered mind, Taiga’s beloved face the last image flickering across his eyes.

Sensation returns by agonizing degrees to Juri's broken body. A tender hand cradles his head, tapered fingers carding desperately through his sweat-matted hair. With enormous effort, he forces bleary eyes open once more. Taiga’s beautiful face swims into focus from above, streaked with soot and tears.

“Juri, stay with me!” Taiga's frantic plea slices through the threatening fog, bringing awareness back to Juri’s sluggish mind. He feels the wet warmth still gushing from where the destructive laser pierced straight through his chest, the edges of the gaping wound charred and blistered.

Ah. So this, after everything, is how his story ends. The knowledge brings only dull acceptance, all his strength devoted now to drinking in these final glimpses of his beloved prince.

Juri summons the last dregs of his energy to lift one quivering, blood-slicked hand to brush feather-light fingers along Taiga’s wet cheek. He tries to convey everything left unspoken between them through tender contact.

“S-sorry …” Juri's cracked whisper tears through his ruined lungs, blackness swiftly narrowing his vision to mere pinpricks struggling to remain fixed on Taiga above him. “Guess … I won’t … keep our promise …”

He cannot shape the words to tell Taiga not to despair, to press on and claim the destiny Juri knows in his soul will one day come. But he clings to his prince’s hand with the last of his fading strength, hoping Taiga understands all the same.

“No, please!” The desperate edges of hysteria cracking Taiga’s agonized plea keep Juri tethered a few heartbeats longer. Taiga squeezes his hand so fiercely the pressure nearly breaks through the creeping numbness claiming Juri's body. “You’ll live, I swear it! Just stay with me!”

Warmth blossoms suddenly beneath their joined palms, spreading up Juri’s arm in soothing waves until the sensation trickles back into his oxygen-starved mind. The blistering pain ravaging his body ebbs, replaced by merciful floating detachment. Exhaustion drags Juri’s eyelids downward, too heavy now to resist. But somehow, impossibly, he senses death’s smothering hand retreating, if only by fractured degrees.

Taiga’s hitched sob by his ear is the last shred of sound penetrating the descending fog blanketing Juri's mind. “Rest now, my love. Your body needs time to heal …”

Taiga’s tender command grants Juri permission finally to let go of his fragile tether on awareness. He surrenders to the darker tides pulling him under, still clinging to Taiga’s hand like a lifeline even as unconsciousness drags him into fathomless depths.

🩷

The once grand palace of Alexandria now bears the scars of recent battle and upheaval. Scorch marks streak the opulent walls in places, tapestries torn and singed. Shattered shards of armor and broken weapons litter the polished floors alongside ominous dark stains. The silence hanging in the vast, echoing halls speaks of loss and sorrow, the grandeur diminished beneath a pall of grief.

In the ruined observatory, Taiga clings to Juri’s unconscious body, fingers twisted desperately in the thief’s blood-soaked tunic. The deadly wound torn through Juri’s chest by King Masaki’s cursed machine no longer seeps crimson, but Taiga still fears each ragged inhale will be Juri’s last.

Only the steady thrum of the heartbeat beneath Taiga’s splayed palm reassures him Juri yet clings to life, however tenuously. Taiga presses his forehead to Juri’s, fresh tears tracing through the blood and soot marring both their faces.

“Please, gods, let him endure this,” he rasps into the silence, a prayer wrenched from his weary soul.

A gentle hand touches Taiga’s shoulder, startling him from the helpless vigil. He lifts his head to find Sakura regarding him solemnly, empathy shining in her eyes.

“How is he?” she asks quietly.

Taiga smooths back sweat-damp hair from Juri’s fevered brow with quaking fingers. “My healing powers came at the last moment. But still …” His breath hitches wetly. “I fear losing him.”

Sakura kneels opposite Taiga, critically inspecting Juri's injury. After a tense moment, she lays her palm over the worst of the seared flesh.

A soft glow emanates from her hand as she concentrates, eyebrows pinching together beneath the effort. Long minutes trickle by until Sakura sags back on her heels, features drawn and pale.

“I’ve done what I can to mend torn flesh and restore his depleted energy,” she reports wearily. “But your magic saved him when mine would have come too late.” Her searching look bores into Taiga. “It seems we share the same second power. A very helpful one at that. Guard it and wield it wisely.”

Overwhelmed by the reminder of power still mystifying him, Taiga simply nods jerkily. But cold purpose firms his spine with Sakura’s next solemn words.

“The battle is done. King Masaki’s broken body was found in the gardens below this room.” Her stare smolders, fierce and sad all at once. “Alexandria won’t wage any war under your rule … brother.”

Though longed for bitterly these many weeks, the victory lands hollowly upon Taiga’s weary spirit. Still, grim necessity compels action, not rest.

He braces his palms on the cold floor, pushing unsteadily to his feet. “Then let me put my newfound powers into action. Let us tend the wounded who yet linger. My selfish grief can wait.”

Sakura rises fluidly beside him, emotions once more shuttered behind her stern visage. “Go. I’ll watch over Juri until I make sure he’s okay.”

Taiga squeezes her hand in wordless gratitude before steeling himself to confront the devastating aftermath. As he navigates debris-choked hallways now eerily subdued, each felled knight or weeping civilian hardens Taiga’s resolve further.

When he reaches the throne room, a movement draws his gaze. Yugo kneels beside Jesse’s prone form, sweat beading his brow as the guard captain wraps bandages around the ugly gash marring Jesse’s shoulder. His usual gruff demeanor softens with clear relief when Taiga approaches.

“Not deep, though the scoundrel nearly lost his arm shoving me from the blade’s reach.” Yugo shakes his head, fondness leaking through the brusque words. “Reckless idiot.”

Jesse stirs faintly, cracking one eye open to fix Yugo with a weakened smirk. “Maybe … looking for … thank you?” His voice scrapes thinly past gritted teeth, but humor glints still.

Yugo snorts. “Gratitude can wait until you’ve the strength to appreciate my magnanimity.” But his touch remains gentle securing the dressing in place.

Something warm and bittersweet swells in Taiga’s chest at this evidence of new camaraderie forged amidst violence. He settles on Jesse’s uninjured side, palm glowing faintly before he lays it over torn flesh. The magic comes sluggishly, but Taiga feels the thief’s ragged breathing steady and slow beneath his ministrations.

When he finishes, leaden silence hangs between them for several fraught heartbeats. Finally, Taiga drags a hand down his haggard face. “I thought victory would taste sweeter than this,” he admits quietly. “Instead, I find only … hollowness where my father’s love once dwelled.”

Yugo’s hand grips Taiga’s shoulder bracingly. “Your path stretches long ahead still. But we shall walk it beside you, one step at a time. My King.” His steady look brokers no doubt.

Taiga’s next inhale shudders out with profound relief. However arduous the journey, he does not brave it alone. He clasps Yugo’s offered hand and allows the strength in that grip to pull him upright once more.

“I’ll leave you for now. More wounded require care.” Taiga firms his weary voice with resolve. No time yet to lick their wounds while innocents still suffer.

With that, he moves towards the distant sounds of anguish and grief still echoing down Alexandria’s once grand halls. The work is grim, but necessity keeps Taiga moving between makeshift healing wards. Each patient saved bolsters his flagging spirit. Gradually, hope takes firmer root that future peace may yet rise from this devastation.

When Taiga pauses to drape a shroud gently over a slain knight’s face, a subtle motion catches his eye. Two soldiers crouched nearby dip their heads respectfully beneath his tired gaze.

“Your Majesty,” one rasps solemnly. “How may we aid Alexandria's resurrection?”

The address rings strange and ill-fitting in Taiga’s ears but kindles a fragile ember of hope nonetheless. With soft words of gratitude, he directs them toward others requiring comfort. Duty remains, calling Taiga back to weary work.

Step by step, the long road to recovery awaits. But with steadfast allies at his side, the future lies not in darkness but bathed in dawn’s rosy glow.

Alexandria yet stands, wounded but unbroken, destined to rise renewed beneath Taiga’s compassionate rule.

💙

Juri wakes slowly, consciousness filtering back one hazy degree at a time. He floats, suspended in muted gray fog, until awareness solidifies bit by bit.

First comes the vague notion that he’s lying in a bed, soft linens tucked around him.

Then sensation prickles across his limbs — the pleasant ache of muscles rested overlong.

Lastly, the persistent throb beneath his breastbone nudges fuller wakefulness upon him.

With effort, Juri pries his eyelids open. Sunlight, mellowed by sheer curtains, fills an opulent bedchamber. The grandeur strikes a discordant note after weeks spent in Lindblum’s more luxurious private quarters.

Where is he?

Scrambled memories surface sluggishly. The fight, King Masaki’s cursed machine, blinding pain …

Juri jolts upright, fingers flying reflexively to his chest. But only tender new skin meets his probing touch. No gaping mortal wound remains, not even a lingering scar marring his torso. Only a bone-deep exhaustion hints of fragility lingering within.

“Careful. Your body’s still weak.”

The soft admonishment draws Juri’s gaze to where Hokuto sits vigil near the expansive bed’s carved footboard. Relief creases the thief’s usually stoic features. He moves swiftly to prop pillows behind Juri’s slumped shoulders.

“Hokuto?” Juri slumps gratefully back against the plush headboard as scattered memories trickle back. “What happened? Where are we?”

“Still in Alexandria’s palace,” Hokuto supplies, claiming the chair beside him again. “You’ve been unconscious for over a week now, recovering from grievous injury. The late King Masaki’s machine took you out badly. But thanks to Sakura and King Taiga’s healing magic, you survived.”

King Taiga. Juri’s next breath shudders out, the full import hitting him squarely. He lifts a hand to his chest again, feeling only tender scar tissue beneath the soft linen shirt someone dressed him in while senseless.

“I could have died,” he rasps faintly. “Should have died from a blast like that. But Taiga somehow …” Overcome, he presses both palms hard over his face, grappling to accept his impossible survival.

Hokuto’s hand closes bracingly over his shoulder. “It was just like in Burmecia. His healing powers awakened fully when he saw you almost dying. You and King Taiga share a rare bond, no doubt about that.”

Despite the lingering shock, warmth kindles in Juri’s chest. Through the haze of pain and fear, he remembers Taiga clinging to him, raw desperation fueling magic beyond comprehension.

And beneath it all, the whispered plea for Juri to endure resonated through his weary spirit.

He drags in a steadying breath and lifts his head. “The battle. What happened after I blacked out? Is Taiga alright?”

Hokuto’s eyes crease reassuringly. “The late king perished when he jumped from the observatory, and his forces stand defeated. King Taiga even now negotiates fair reparations with captive nations. King Kento’s here to assist him.” His expression sobers. “Coronation looms a week away. He’s planning to find a leader to replace him once Alexandria is ready to stand on its own once again, but that would take some time. Years, perhaps.”

Relief wars with melancholy inside Juri. With Masaki dead and tyranny defeated, Taiga’s pure spirit will spread compassion throughout the kingdom.

But duty binds his prince once more, stealing the precious freedom they both craved together.

Perhaps sensing his conflicted heart, Hokuto asks gently, “What comes next for you, once fully healed? Will you remain at King Taiga’s side?”

Juri sighs, scrubbing both hands roughly through his mussed hair. “We made a promise to see each other through all this, whatever came next.” He stares at the empty air, seeing only Taiga’s tender smile in memory. “Can’t speak for him, but I won’t break my word.”

Even relegated only to friendship beyond royal halls, Juri knows he will gladly spend his years loving Taiga from any distance fate decrees.

Hokuto smiles, appearing genuinely relieved. “I am glad to hear that. Sakura said she will be staying in Alexandria for good, and we’d hate to lose one more Tantalus member.” He stands gracefully, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Shall I fetch the king? He’s been beside himself worrying over you this past week.”

Longing pierces through Juri’s heart. Even hesitant to presume the right to Taiga’s time, he cannot deny this bone-deep yearning to see his beloved prince again. Juri nods wordlessly, not trusting his voice.

With an understanding dip of his chin, Hokuto slips quietly from the bedchamber.

Left alone, Juri forces his unsteady legs over the side of the massive bed. They wobble dangerously beneath his weight after days abed, but he braces both hands on a carved bedpost until balance steadies. Then, step by determined step, he limps across cold marble floor tiles toward the arched balcony doors thrown open to allow in fresh air.

There he pauses, knuckles white where they clutch the doorway. The sun-washed view of palace gardens and far-distant city could be lifted straight from Taiga’s wistful descriptions of his cloistered childhood. Juri’s heart twists, hating that this gilded cage could ever contain Taiga’s compassionate spirit.

Distracted by darker thoughts, he doesn’t hear the bedchamber door open swiftly behind him. But then lean arms wrap fiercely around Juri from behind, and he finds himself engulfed in Taiga’s tight embrace before he can startle.

“You’re awake!” Taiga’s relieved sob wrenches free against Juri’s shoulder, his slender frame shaking with emotion. “Gods be praised, I thought … I thought I’d lost you!”

Juri turns carefully in the circle of Taiga’s arms, own vision blurring dangerously at this tactile proofthat his prince — no, he’s king now — yet lives and stands strong. He crushes Taiga tight to his chest, ignoring the flare of pain along his healing ribcage.

“Takes more than that to stop me from keeping my promise,” Juri rasps hoarsely. He buries his face against Taiga’s hair and just breathes him in, letting the familiar scent settle his fractured spirit.

Too soon, the demands of kingship intrude. Footsteps echo down the outer passage followed by an apologetic knock at the open doors.

Taiga steps reluctantly back from their embrace but keeps clinging to Juri’s hands. His eyes shine with immeasurable gratitude and love. “We have time still to catch up before … the coronation,” he vows softly.

Juri lifts Taiga’s hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle reverently. “Anywhere you lead, I’ll follow gladly.”

Their shared smile brokers no doubts. War and loss battered their spirits, but compassion and devotion now fortify them for the long road ahead toward lasting peace.

Whatever fate awaits beyond this room, they will face it side by side, two hearts entwined by bonds beyond crown or duty.

🩷

The once grand palace of Alexandria slowly recovers in the days following the climactic battle against the tyranny of the late King Masaki. Taiga walks the echoing halls, features settled into an impassive mask that belies bone-deep exhaustion beneath. His days stretch endlessly caring for the wounded, meeting with advisors and generals, and beginning the monumental task of repairing ties with nations long subjugated beneath Alexandrian rule.

There is also the coronation to worry about. But Yugo and Sakura wave him of, promising that they will take care of the ceremonies. Taiga is grateful for their support.

Still, Taiga’s spirit frays beneath the relentless demands, but he schools his posture into regal confidence when petitioners line up to seek his wisdom and guidance. Their hopeful eyes steady his resolve.

But as the days blur together, Taiga yearns desperately for respite, for the chance to simply be himself beyond royal trappings.

In rare stolen moments, he finds solace in Juri’s arms. They cling together in shadowed alcoves between endless meetings, Taiga drawing strength from Juri’s steady presence as coronation looms ever nearer.

But such respite can only be fleeting with duties ever calling Taiga away too soon.

Late one moonless night after yet another endless day of petitions and audiences, Taiga startles from fitful attempts at paperwork as a familiar lilting voice whispers directly into his ear.

“Fancy a bit of night air, Your Majesty?”

Juri grins roguishly down at Taiga’s flustered expression, perched casually atop the ornate desk after sneaking soundlessly into the study.

Despite himself, Taiga huffs a surprised laugh, tension bleeding from his frame. “Did you scale the trellis and balcony again, you scoundrel?”

“Maybe so.” Juri’s grin softens as he strokes gentle fingers through Taiga’s disheveled hair. “You’ve been run ragged lately. Come sneak away with me before it kills that tender heart.”

Taiga wavers only a heartbeat before decisive longing firms his resolve. After hastily scrawling an excuse that some urgent matter called him from his chambers, Taiga allows himself to be tugged by the hand down shadowy servants’ passages and through discreet postern doors to emerge at last into moon-washed castle gardens.

Taiga and Juri walk hand-in-hand to the stables, their way lit only by moonlight. A refreshing breeze cools their skin as they pass rows of sleeping horses. At the back stall waits Taiga’s favorite mare, a beautiful chestnut who nuzzles his outstretched palm in greeting.

Juri saddles their mounts swiftly, anticipation glinting in his eyes. He holds out a hand to help Taiga into the saddle. “Shall we ride, my king?” he asks lightly, though his gaze holds Taiga’s own seriously.

With his royal attire shed, Taiga feels almost himself again. The familiar rituals soothe his weary spirit. “Lead the way,” he says, taking Juri’s hand and allowing himself to be guided atop the gentle steed.

They set off at an easy pace through garden paths and orchards, the clip-clop of hooves muted against grassy lanes. Overhead, stars spin dizzyingly across the moonless void. Taiga tips his face up, drinking in the boundless sky. Out here beyond palace walls, the stale taint of politics and bloodshed fades, leaving his senses clear.

At the edge of the palace grounds, the dense forest looms ahead. Taiga glances uncertainly at Juri, but the thief just grins and urges his mount onward into moon-dappled shadows. Trusting him implicitly, Taiga follows without hesitation.

Beneath the rustling canopy, weariness lifts its smothering veil. Taiga closes his eyes, letting the sighing boughs and his mare’s steady gait guide him.

When he opens them again, Juri has dismounted in a moonlit clearing beside a brook’s musical burble. He lifts Taiga down, hands lingering tenderly at his waist.

Wordlessly, they settle together at the base of an ancient tree, the gnarled roots offering a comfortable nest. Taiga leans gratefully into Juri’s side, inhaling his familiar scent.

Neither speaks as serenity washes over them, erasing lingering shadows from Taiga’s weary spirit.

Finally, Taiga whispers the fear plaguing him most. “Promise me you’ll never let me become a tyrant blinded by power as my father was.” He clings tighter to Juri’s hand. “Remind me always of who I truly am beneath the crown.”

Juri kisses his hair, voice solemn yet fond. “You could never be other than my Taiga. No gilded palace can change the kind heart within you.” He tilts Taiga’s chin up, thumb grazing his lips tenderly. “And I’ll be here to keep you humble, even if they call you King.”

Overwhelmed with gratitude, Taiga catches Juri's playful mouth in a searing kiss.

As passion ignites between them beneath the cradling branches, the wider world recedes, leaving only this cherished oasis where Taiga is simply himself. No burdens weigh upon his spirit wrapped securely in Juri’s embrace.

Eventually, they fall asleep cradled together as one, lulled by the brook’s whispering song.

As dawn’s rosy fingers caress the eastern horizon, they rouse and make the journey back to palace confines, spirits buoyed for trials yet to come.

💙

The grand throne room of Alexandria Palace shimmers beneath golden candlelight. Crimson banners emblazoned with the royal crest drape between stained glass windows, the fading sun filtering through in dazzling displays. Nobles fill the cavernous hall in their finest silks and satins, murmuring excitedly amongst themselves as they await the imminent coronation ceremony.

At the hall’s heart, the ornate throne gleams atop a raised dais, soon to welcome its new occupant. Beside it on a smaller gilt chair, the glittering crown rests atop a plush purple pillow, polished to an immaculate shine for this momentous occasion.

Juri shifts on his feet, tugging irritably at the stiff high collar of his formal jacket. Glancing around, he notes the other members of Tantalus looking equally uncomfortable in the posh attire Sakura insisted they don for King Taiga’s coronation.

Except maybe for Hokuto, who is affectionately reaching out to adjust Shintaro’s collar to get him to stop fidgeting.

Sakura also appears at ease, resplendent in an elegant gown as she converses with her parents and the summoner elders nearby. The tribe speaks in hushed, eager tones about the future, Sakura’s face alight with joy at finally finding her tribe a home after years of hiding.

Across the bustling room, Juri spots Jesse murmuring something to Yugo that makes the usually stoic guard flush and pointedly look away. But a hint of a pleased smile tugs Yugo’s lips regardless.

Juri hides a knowing grin. Perhaps Jesse’s relentless personality finally wore down Yugo’s restraint. He’ll have to tease his best friend for details later.

Fanfare echoes suddenly as massive doors at the hall’s rear swing open. Silence ripples through the gathered throng. All eyes turn towards the entrance, breaths held in anticipation.

There, framed by sunlight streaming through high arched windows, Taiga appears resplendent in flowing azure robes adorned with intricate silver tracery. The crystal pendant Juri knows so well glints softly at his throat. Taiga’s pace remains measured and calm beneath the collective weight of countless stares. But Juri notes the subtle tremor of his hands before they disappear into billowing silk sleeves.

As Taiga draws nearer on his steady path towards the dais, his dark eyes find Juri’s for the span of a single quavering heartbeat.

In that fleeting instant, a silent promise wings between them — Whatever comes, I will always be yours.

The smile Taiga gifts Juri then nearly buckles his knees, so full of naked love and trust it steals his breath away.

Then Taiga turns to climb the dais steps with innate grace. He kneels gracefully before the gleaming throne, crystal pendant pooling like liquid moonlight atop his bent neck. The bishop comes, gingerly placing the crown atop his head.

When the assembly’s thunderous cheers crown him Alexandria’s new king at last, Juri’s own voice rings loudest among them. Exultant joy for Taiga’s triumph temporarily overrides the melancholy in his heart.

Later, after feasting and revelry fade to bittersweet farewells, Juri stands hand-in-hand with Taiga atop the Prima Vista’s retracting gangplank. Behind them, laughter echoes up from belowdecks where Jesse regales the crew with exaggerated tales of their adventure.

Taiga’s eyes shine with immeasurable emotion as he pulls Juri into a fierce hug. “Thank you,” he whispers hoarsely, his breath rustling Juri's hair, “for everything.”

Juri clings back just as tightly, suddenly unwilling to let go. But he forces a cocky grin when they reluctantly step apart. “Hey, that’s what roguishly handsome thief rescues are for, right?”

Taiga huffs a surprised laugh, blinking away the sheen of tears. “You shall be welcome always in these halls, my love,” he vows solemnly. “However long we must wait.”

Heart overflowing, Juri cups Taiga’s beloved face in both hands and kisses him with aching tenderness.

When their lips finally part, he whispers the words engraved on his soul.

“I’m yours, Taiga. Now and always.”

Their hands cling a moment longer before reluctantly slipping free. Then Juri backs into the Prima Vista’s waiting embrace. He keeps his eyes locked on Taiga’s slender figure until long after the closing ramp obscures him from view.

Someday, fate will guide their paths back together. But for now, through duty and distance, their hearts remain entwined by bonds beyond crowns or borders.

Wherever adventure leads, Juri knows Taiga’s radiant smile awaits at the journey’s end to welcome him home.

THE END