Chapter Text
His crown rested heavily atop his head.
Prince Miles Edgeworth often found himself tired. Tired of the pressures weighing on his mind, of King Von Karma ostensibly pressing down on his back until he broke. With him pitting Princess Franziska against him at every turn, both siblings fighting for the title of ruler they both knew had already been written to one by fate, migraines became a permanent form of infliction upon his weary mind. He recalled how he had initially tried to protest, to refuse to become a pawn in his cruel game.
The lashes slashed across his back spoke otherwise.
He stared into the fog surrounding the castle, eyes drifting down to the enchanted roses lining the gates. They had been his late father’s favorite; bouquets of red, blossoming blooms were often brought back to him whenever Gregory returned from his travels. He’d been an advisor to the king, steadfast and devoted until the bitter end. Until the only thing left of him was his blood splattered on withering roses, crimson blending into the matted, forgotten petals of a love tarnished and destroyed.
Edgeworth, taken in when he was young, had quickly learned that his opinions were not to be voiced. That lesson was taught to him again and again, beat into him in more ways than one. He recalled pets going missing, nights spent without sustenance, and books being overturned with no hint of privacy. The only thing he had left were those roses- he’d spoken to the king about his adoration of them once, and he had let them be despite his aversion to all things alive.
His thoughts vanished momentarily as his gaze fell upon the sight of them, eyes widening at the vague silhouette of a person tampering with the bushes. Fear spiked in his chest, anxiety and the notion that something of his would no longer be such once more. On instinct, he found himself rushing down to the garden, professional façade all but abandoned in favor of righteous indignation.
The fog made it difficult to see, illustrious in its domain, causing him to pause as he searched for the figure. Hearing the telltale snip of a plant, he followed the sound, thick smog in his way. In his haste, he roughly collided with someone, letting out an improper “Oof!” as he did. Standing up to his full height, dusting off nonexistent lint, he stood up self-righteously, crying, “How dare you besmirch-”
The words died on his lips as storm clouds met cobalt blue. The gaze of the other man utterly froze him in one spot, the ghosts of his words hanging between them. Those eyes. They looked shocked, confused, but so utterly kind that he couldn’t help but get lost in them for a moment.
The other man was first to recover. “Y-Your Highness!” he cried, bowing in an effort to not have his head taken clean off of his shoulders. “I didn’t see you there… my dearest apologies-“ In his haste, he failed to note his bleeding nose, injury slight but nonetheless there.
Edgeworth bristled. “Take this.” He fumbled with his handkerchief, eloquently holding it out to the other man. Phoenix’s eyes were round as dinner plates as he took in the silk-embroidered emblem of the kingdom. “A-Ah no, sir, I couldn’t possibly-”
“Nonsense.” And that was how Phoenix found himself clutching the scrap of cloth for dear life, trying to ignore the spark that lit his heart aflame with the brush of the prince’s fingers along his own. Nimble, steady, manicured hands handed it to him. They were unlike his own rough, coarse ones, but beautiful in their own right. What was he thinking?
Now that he’d had a moment to process it, Edgeworth took in the sight in front of him. A gardener, obviously. He was wearing a shabby uniform fitted by the castle, awkwardly holding some pruning shears and looking out-of-place. And yet, what intrigued him most were those spiky locks. He surmised they were softer than they looked- ahem.
“Your name?”
“P-Phoenix, sir.”
Phoenix. An uncommon name, to be sure, but a worthy one nonetheless.
“A pleasure. I am His Highness Prince Miles Gregory E-”
“Oh, I know who you are, sir!” Phoenix cut in unexpectedly, practically bouncing on the heels of his feet before he slapped a hand over his own mouth, eyes widened in fear. Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. He ought to punish the man for the disruption. Von Karma always believed in setting a precedent. And yet…
“…Phoenix. Why are you cutting the rosebushes? I was under the impression that all of the royal gardeners were to trim the main gardens only.” Upon his reflection of the man, Edgeworth had deduced that his initial impression was incorrect- it was unlikely that Phoenix had meant any harm. If anything, he seemed a bit too eager to please. The only mystery that remained was his presence in the area at all.
“I was hired specifically to do this task- I don’t work for the Royal Gardens. But I couldn’t bring myself to throw these roses away, s-so I’ve been collecting them.” He spoke sheepishly, as if unsure of the legality of his actions, yet quietly held up the basket of roses, as many unpotted as possible and tucked safely away. Edgeworth gasped.
“You mean… you kept them alive?” A look of awe overtook him as he examined the basket. Perfect condition. Not a single petal wilted.
“O-Of course, Your Highness. They’re living things, after all. They don’t deserve to die just because the person who hired me doesn’t like them.”
Edgeworth paused. “Who hired you, exactly?”
Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck, trying to recall. “I believe his name was… Yanni Yogi? I remember finding it silly…”
He froze. That was the name of one of the king’s top advisors, meaning this had been an act of spite against him. Von Karma knew how much he adored those roses, how they were the only thing he had left of his father, and yet he-
He sank to his knees, faintly registering Phoenix’s voice as it faded from his mind, the world spinning around him.
***
A soft hand rested atop his forehead, brushing his hair back and pressing an ice pack there instead. His eyes blearily drifted open.
Groaning softly, he mumbled, “What happened?” He looked up and paused as he found those pretty blue eyes staring back at him, concern overwhelming them.
“You passed out, Your Highness,” Phoenix murmured gently. “I carried you back here so you could rest. Don’t worry, no one found out.” Somehow, he had read his mind.
He checked on the covers lining his bed, a bowl of soup steaming next to him, practically nursing him back to health. Edgeworth blushed at the thought, quickly staring down at the lines adorning his palms. “Y-You carried me?”
“I did, sir. If I may… it was not too difficult.” And oh, did the thought of that make him see stars. He quickly changed the subject, trying not to focus on the subtle way Phoenix’s arms flexed as he held the bowl of soup up to his lips.
The two spent a few minutes discussing the incident, Edgeworth agreeing that he needed to take better care of himself. When all was said and done, he sighed.
“I really can’t thank you enough. For helping me when I was indisposed, and… for saving those roses.” He couldn’t bring himself to explain why it mattered so much, but somehow, he didn’t need to, if the tender gaze that fell upon him was anything to go by. The soft welcome he received in return was all he needed to know that he was in the presence of sincerity, something unknown to him, and yet not unwelcome.
“I have a request,” Edgeworth spoke, taking in the way the evening’s rays glittered on the other man’s face.
“Yes, Your Hi-” Phoenix’s eyes widened as Edgeworth’s finger brushed against his lips, a crimson hue adorning his cheeks. “Miles,” he murmured. “Just call me Miles.” He nodded, eyes glittering with the faintest hint of adoration.
And with that, a new friendship began.