Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The forest is silent. It should never, under any circumstances, be silent. It makes Edgeworth pause.

Worrying, he thinks to himself. I really hope this isn’t a sign of what’s to come. 

The thing about the Woods- the expansive forested wilderness that separates settled, safe land from the whims of fae folk- is that it is brimming with magic. The very soil beneath Edgeworth’s feet is seeping with the foul disease, although it isn’t noticeable here. But it can be. The trees quite literally sing with the wind. The animals grow two or three more eyes than one would typically assume they should have. Plants bend and twist in odd ways to make home for the tiny pixies. Edgeworth hates pixies. They swarm your legs and crawl over your chest and try to seduce you, even though they’re only two inches tall and Edgeworth is not interested in their types at all. Just the thought of them makes him shudder. 

The point is, this place should not be deafeningly quiet. Especially not here, not so deep in the Woods that it would take Edgeworth several days to escape in any direction. Yet they are. The trees are still. The sky is overcast, a gentle grayish-blue. The sun has not yet sunken over the horizon. Edgeworth adjusts the cloak wrapped around his armor and pushes on. 

When he had received the command, he was quite confused. Phoenixes didn’t actually exist, as far as Edgeworth knew. Most magical creatures had plenty of stories and folktales looming around them, yes. But phoenixes were a breed of their own. Every story that phoenixes featured in were outlandish and wrong. But that hadn’t stopped the man who had come to von Karma manor a few weeks ago. He’d presented Edgeworth with a large leather tome brimming with every last off-handed mention or allusion that existed and seemed so proud of his work, glasses gleaming and smirk etched across his face. But Edgeworth could see the truth behind the book.

Fairy tales, in the most false sense of the phrase. Phoenixes who saved villages or healed the sick just did not exist. No good magical creature did.  

And then the strange man demanded not only that Edgeworth find what didn’t exist, but to bring it out of the forest and back to the manor for the man to keep. As if that was what Edgeworth did.

Yes, fine, Edgeworth was a bounty hunter. That was hard to argue against. But he wasn’t just a help-for-hire. He killed monsters. He didn’t seek them out and drag them to places they shouldn’t ever see.

But von Karma had seemed pleased. The cold glare he had given Edgeworth from across the table that told him all he needed to know. You will take this job, it said. End of discussion. That was the end of that.

So he’d followed the book, that absolute farce of an “anthology” if he’d ever seen one, and traveled for weeks just to come to this one spot. Edgeworth comes across a looming tree, its branches hanging low to the earth. They brush the ground in gentle droves. At least the book had gotten something right. However, as Edgeworth touches its bark, it doesn’t even hum back. Something is definitely wrong, he thinks, where has the magic gone?

Something dives at his head from above. He only just barely misses it, ducking his head mere moments before it swoops up and away out of sight. Definitely bird-like. And this is the grove. This is the tree. Edgeworth unsheathes a dagger he keeps in his pocket and creeps along the forest floor.

That is when the viper sneaks out from the brush. 

Not a basilisk, Edgeworth checks as he’s running away. Which, thank the heavens and all that is real. If it were a basilisk, Edgeworth would most certainly be dead. He might still be yet, the thing is huge. Maybe twelve feet long and a couple wide. But it’s missing the chicken’s head and feathered tail and holy shit Miles, move out of the way or it's going to eat you- 

Edgeworth dodges, but only barely. One of the creature’s spines cuts his cheek. When he pulls away a hand, it comes with blood. He grimaces. Well, then. Edgeworth didn’t wake up this morning thinking that he would be killing any magical creatures today. But he’ll consider it a bonus.

Tossing the dagger aside, Edgeworth instead draws his sword. Mitsurugi, it had been named so long ago. But in the midst of battle, the name of the weapon isn’t important so much as being able to swing and decapitate the viper. 

The first swing misses. The second does not. 

It pierces just below the thing’s jaw. But it does not die- no, that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? Edgeworth frowns, his brow furrowing as the viper continues to move its large body towards him. 

Right, is the very stupid and poorly timed thought that goes through his mind. I guess this is it then. Good try, I suppose. And that would be a rather pathetic last thought to have, wouldn’t it?

Its jaw is open and it's almost on top of Edgeworth before something red and orange bursts from the sky and shoots itself through the viper’s eye. The viper makes a sound not unlike the scream Edgeworth is currently making as he scoots back further into the glade.

It is the bird. A phoenix. 

Edgeworth takes a moment to note the luck of the situation. Then he rushes forward to grip his sword with two hands, pull it out just a bit, and jam it back into the viper’s jaw.

The thing’s eyes widen, then fade. The viper is dead. The bird, which is covered in blood and bits of eye, crawls out of the viper’s eye socket with a sound that’s adjacent to a tired sigh. Edgeworth takes the moment to grab for the bird’s leg. It burns a bit through the gloves.

He swears the little bird rolls its eyes. 

It would be cliché to say the phoenix is as light as a feather, but. Well. Sometimes clichés are true. The bird hangs loosely from where Edgeworth is holding it, wings spread without purpose. It almost seems bored. Edgeworth hates those types of creatures the most. The ones with attitudes. But at the very least they’re challenging. 

Like von Karma said to do, Edgeworth searches for the tiny set of magically imbued chains and secures them around the bird’s legs. At least that makes it squirm, letting out chirps and trills. Edgeworth places a finger along its chest, pressing down lightly. It’s a reminder. I am much bigger and stronger than you. And weigh one hundred and sixty pounds more. One wrong move and that is it for you, little bird . It stops fidgeting. 

With his other hand, Edgeworth checks along the bird’s wing. A single black feather on either underside, said the book. Tucked underneath the coverts. Hidden. 

And there it is. Dark, small and condemning.

Edgeworth glances back at the bird’s little black eyes. They are closed. It’s breathing far too heavy for such a creature, only the size of a decently fed falcon. Such a timid creature is the famed phoenix? A myth among magic?

It’s pathetic. The viper took more work.  

Edgeworth ponders back to the silence of the Woods. He can hear the faint humming returning now. Where had it gone? He glances at the viper again, narrowing his eyes as he gets a better grasp on the bird, wrapping his hands around it’s folded wings. Did the viper cause the lull in the magic? Was it the phoenix? It’s body is still rising and body in quick succession. The fear is finally setting in.

The thing should be grateful, though. Edgeworth has been specifically asked not to kill the bird. To bring it home alive. Whatever happens after Edgeworth returns is not his business, but the bird has a couple more weeks at the very least.

Edgeworth secures the bird against his side and walks out of the glade, his legs sore and bruised. The phoenix squirms lightly but it’s clearly disheartened. Edgeworth has a feeling that by the time he gets back to his camp this bird will have completely given up.

…

Edgeworth is, for the most part, correct. There’s not much activity once they make it far enough from the tree and back towards where he’s made camp. The phoenix seems almost… sated. It sits limp in his hand, its head resting lightly on his thumb. Impulsively, he wants to touch its feathers. Bird’s feathers are soft, aren’t they? But Edgeworth knows better. Already his gloves are starting to smoke and his mind screams move, you’re getting burned. He pushes through it. This is not all that much pain, he tells himself. You have dealt with far worse.

Edgeworth holds back a shiver. Bad thought. He banishes it to the back of his mind and takes a breath.

The phoenix ever so suddenly shrieks, impaling its tiny and serrated beak into Edgeworth’s hand. Edgeworth, in a moment of weakness, lets go. More blood, he thinks. His hand and cheek are wet with it. The little bird rights its wings and scrambles out of his hand.

And right into his dog’s mouth.

Thank the heavens for Pess.

Her beautiful white snout caught the bird’s wing in what looks like a very uncomfortable position. The phoenix cries insistently. But Pess is careful to not bite down. She simply holds him in her mouth, sitting down on the ground. As she lays her long head on her paws, Edgeworth gives her a smile.

“Good girl,” he whispers, bending down to give her the affection she so rightfully deserves. Her tail thumps on the grass. The bird trills and Pess growls around it.

She isn’t much of a hunting dog- she’s far too sweet. Edgeworth is surprised she even had the thought to catch the phoenix before it dove away. But he would never take her into the true fray of the Woods- gentle Pess, fighting off vipers and nymphs? Edgeworth will leave that to himself and Mitsurugi. Pess, meanwhile, will stay here in the camp and guard his things. Still in the woods- still in danger- but it’s the least he can do.

Pess traps the bird in her paws and licks its little head. Even though it must be hot, Pess makes no mention of the temperature of the feathers.

With his head practically buried in the warm surface of Pess’ fur, Edgeworth notices the wing that Pess caught is definitely bent in a bad, bad way. But he supposes a damaged bird is better than a dead bird.

He is sure to keep a careful eye on the two animals as he sheds his armor and checks for wounds. Nothing too bad. A few bruises, some cuts that are already starting to heal over. He’s certainly thankful for his strong constitution. It’s been the deciding factor between life or death several times. 

When he glances over, Pess is grooming the bird’s wings like an apology. Edgeworth rolls his eyes and slides his gloves back on.

It takes but a moment to snatch the bird up and shove it into the little cage he had bought at the barren market in the last town before the Woods had begun. Pess whines a little. Edgeworth chains the phoenix’s leg to the cage regardless.

“Pess,” he says quietly. “Watch this beast for me. And I’ll give you all the best treats in the morning, darling.” He holds her head in his hands. Her tongue lolls out.

Then Edgeworth lays down and is greeted by the sensation of the earth shaking beneath him, the image of a blade pierced through his kind father’s heart.

…

Waking the next morning, Edgeworth finds the cage intact and the bird still inside. Pess has her nose pressed against the bars and her head resting on the ground between her paws. Honestly, Edgeworth is the most disheveled thing in the Woods this morning. He sits up with a sigh.

The nightmares are constant. It could be considered the only consistent thing in his life- he may be going from forest to forest, village to village, but he will always be followed by the plague of visions when his eyes close.

Edgeworth wipes at his face. There is still a layer of sweat on his forehead and he’s sure there are bags under his eyes. But he still fixes his armor to his body and begins the day.

The phoenix is quiet still. Edgeworth has never seen a creature so unshakable from slumber. Perhaps that’s how it avoided human contact for so long, Edgeworth snarks to himself. It sleeps right through it. 

Edgeworth grabs a small treat from his bag and feeds it to Pess, his wonderful girl, and picks up the cage. It’s ice-cold. Impulsively, Edgeworth teaches a hand into the cage and touches the bird with his bare hands. 

It is soft, is the first thought. So, so soft. Like silk and velvet under his fingers. But it is freezing. Where did the warmth go…?

He retracts his hand and begins to worry. Edgeworth knows next to nothing about phoenixes. No one really does. He’s still convinced that half of the mythos surrounding this tiny bird is incorrect. But is this lack of body heat something that comes with sleep? Or is the bird dying? Is it some sort of trick?

Not wanting to risk it, Edgeworth reaches in and secures the bird to his hand, wrapping the chain around his wrist. It’s limp. Is it dead…?

No. A slow, slow heartbeat thuds against his fingertips. Carefully, Edgeworth spreads the injured wing out. He might as well.

Edgeworth spends his morning wrapping a makeshift splint around the wing of a phoenix, a creature that rightfully should not exist. A creature that Edgeworth should not be helping in any form or fashion. Pess tries to nose her way to her new best friend- not that Edgeworth is jealous of a bird - but Edgeworth pushes her away.

Suddenly, without any warning, the feathers start to burn against his skin and the bird darts into the air. It doesn’t get too far, though- the chain wrapped around its leg connecting back to Edgeworth is one thing, but the splinted wing doesn’t help either.

Edgeworth tsks in disapproval. “You’re not getting very far, sorry.” And then he realizes he is talking to a bird, and frowns to himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You don’t talk to these creatures, Miles Edgeworth. They are not worth your time, intones his sister’s voice in his head. It’s a good reminder of what he should be doing, which is pulling down the bird and shoving it back in the cage.

But- mystically- the phoenix seems to understand. It awkwardly rounds back around to Edgeworth with an angry look in its dark eyes, and lets out a sound that’s a bit more admirable than the chirps it was mostly making yesterday. Pess barks back.

Acting against his own advice, Edgeworth continues, “You’re not going anywhere. So I wouldn’t even try, beast. You’re coming with me and that’s the end of it. So stop it with your racket.”

The phoenix- the stupid bird- rolls its eyes. Actually. Physically. As the bird goes to open its beak to inevitably squawk obscenities at him, Edgeworth pulls on the chain and the bird stumbles in the air. That makes him smirk a bit. Prideful bird. He has no room to have sass-

He. Edgeworth shakes his head. This bird is messing with his mind. He can’t wait to be rid of the beast.

Eventually the bird gets tired of barely maintaining a hover and settles on Edgeworth’s wrist. The talons dig in just a bit, burning his skin. Edgeworth winces. The bird seems triumphant.

Edgeworth packs up camp and drags the bird along. The thing never stops moving, always squirming and making things difficult. Already, Edgeworth is tired of this job.

…

He and Pess have a steady rhythm to their walking. After years of companionship, it’s a given. They walk at the same pace and stop on the same beat. Pess nudges his leg with her nose and Edgeworth knows she’s heard something. Edgeworth puts a hand on her head and she looks to see what he wants her to investigate.

The bird messes it up near instantly.

It hums and trills and flaps its broken wing. And because it’s broken, the phoenix cries in pain and looks in agony at Edgeworth. This, of course, distresses Pess, who whines at the bird. She feels bad, Edgeworth realizes. But the bird turns away and refuses to acknowledge the poor dog, resting in the crook of Edgeworth’s arm. And then the cycle begins again. Stupid bird, stupid bird, stupid bird, Edgeworth thinks on repeat. 

Edgeworth dumps the phoenix at Pess’ feet when they stop to eat. Pess, pounding her tail up and down, licks the bird’s head. The phoenix looks up at him with betrayal. As if there had ever been any trust to begin with. He smirks from several feet away as Pess grooms the bird. Feathers stick every which direction. Steam rises off her tongue.

When Edgeworth takes the bird back, it breathes out a sigh of relief. So human-like. Magical creatures are usually… different, but this is beyond that.

Edgeworth nods at the bird. It nods back. He winks, the bird copies. He holds one of Pess’ treats in the air, sets it down, and says, “Wait.” The bird does not listen. But it’s purposeful. Deliberate. It waits a long three moments, looking up at Edgeworth with large eyes, then swoops down and eats it.

It understands him. But it’s a bird, he thinks incredulously. A bird… who winks and glares and sings a tune that sounds oddly similar to Greensleeves. What the hell.

Edgeworth wishes that it was Franziska who had taken this job. She wouldn’t be fazed by this. But then he’d be stuck in the manor with von Karma. So Edgeworth decides, alright, yes , a strange bird is just fine.

…

Most mornings, Edgeworth lays still on his bedspread and pretends to sleep. In reality, he’s actually been awake for hours. He’s exhausted. But there’s no rush to move and maybe, just maybe, if he rests for a little while longer he’ll feel a little less drained.

Any sense of the peace he longs for disappears when he hears a voice.

“I know, I know. I get it. He’s your master. But he’s also a giant dick, so. I think this is warranted,” says a hushed voice. Edgeworth stills, listens.

Pess- Pess? - shuffles a few feet away and whines. “This has been a lot of fun. Mr. Edgeworth sure is… interesting, yeah. But I have plenty of places to be, girl. I can’t stay. And I’m starting to get worried…”

They know his name. They know my name. Abandoning the wait and see mindset, Edgeworth makes a grab for Mitsurugi and thrusts it forward. But it hits nothing. 

No one. There is no one there. Just Pess, smiling with her sharp canines and her tongue hanging over her teeth. Just Pess and…

The phoenix, head sticking out of the cage. It has wide eyes and its beak is ajar, staring at Edgeworth with fear. As if he had caught the phoenix speaking. No. No, no no no no no. No. Edgeworth lets out a wheezy laugh. No way. That would be impossi-

“Uh,” says the bird. The bird. “You’re dreaming.”

Edgeworth almost listens to it. He almost turns over and closes his eyes to resume his false sleep. But he doesn’t. Because this isn’t a dream. It couldn’t be. But- what is-

“What?!”

The bird grins sheepishly. “You must’ve eaten something really, really gross. Actually, the past few days have all been a dream. A big old fever dream. So when you wake up and I’m not here…”

“How do you know my name?!” Edgeworth practically spits out.

“It’s a dream. Duh.” The bird shrugs, bending down to preen under its wings. “I’m part of your brain. In fact, phoenixes don’t exist. I’m just a figment of your imagination. Stay away from the liquor next time, big guy. Now uh… could you loosen this chain a bit? Since we’re dream pals? And none of this matters. Cause you’re gonna wake up and-”

Edgeworth narrows his eyes. “No. You bit my hand. I know you’re real.”

“I didn’t bite you. Birds can’t bite. We don’t have teeth. Well, most of us, anyways, it’s the weird ones that have teeth…”

“Yes they can- ngogh! No, stop trying to-“ Edgeworth groans, shooting up from his cot and stomping over to the bird. It tries to hide behind Pess, who’s happy mood hasn’t waned. “I know you’re real. Stop your incessant chatter.”

“Rude.”

“You’re a bird! I don’t care!” He snatches the chain from where it’s wrapped in the cage, pulling the bird to him. 

“Oh my gosh be careful with that,” it squeals, diving in and out of the air. “It hurts when you pull it too hard, asshole.”

“Good.”

It stops its never-ending movement to huff at him. “You know, I wouldn’t be trying to escape if you were a tad less bitchy. ”

Edgeworth tugs again and frowns. “Such a vulgar creature. Aren’t you supposed to represent life and purity?”

“I didn’t come up with what I ‘represent’. That was all you guys. I am definitely not pure, thank you.”

His brain is about to explode. He wants to strangle this bird and throw himself in a lake. “Stop. Talking.”

“No,” the bird shakes his head. “Now that I can talk, that’s all I want to do! I hated being silent but I was hoping you’d just move on and let me go. Because I was just a normal bird? But no . Of course not. You’re actually quite stubborn, did you know that, Edgeworth?”

“How do you know my name?” Edgeworth pulls the phoenix even closer.

“Uh,” it blinks. “Your dog told me. She’s a real sweetheart but she slobbers a bit too much.”

“My Pess does not slobber, ” Edgeworth growls, then does a double take. He is arguing… with a bird. A talking bird. Taking a deep breath, he starts again. “You can talk to my dog?”

“All animals. It’s a magic thing.”

“Yes,” Edgeworth says, voice light and breathy. “A magic thing. Obviously.”

“So… could you let me go?”

“No,” he snaps. His brow is so furrowed it’s beginning to hurt. “You are not going anywhere, foul creature. I don’t care if you can talk or sing or know my name because you can talk to my bloody dog. Any monster like you will not be leaving my sights now that you’ve entered them.”

The phoenix huffs. “Yikes. That’s… yikes.“

Enough of this, Edgeworth thinks to himself. This is… grating. It was bad enough before. But now that the beast speaks, Edgeworth will never be at peace again. He takes the bird and puts it back in the cage where it belongs, this stupid bird, stupid bird, even though it makes as much goddamn noise as it possibly can. He locks it tight even though it will upset Pess and sits back down on his cot.

“Edgeworth! Edgeworth! Did I upset you? Look, you upset me first with the whole kidnapping thing-“

Regret starts to seep into his body, trailing up his legs and spilling into his brain. This bird was going to kill him.

Chapter Text

He should have known the phoenix would bring trouble. Was it too much to ask for some sort of warning? His obsessive client could have told him that phoenixes were awful, awful luck and only brought suffering anywhere they went. The fact that they talked your ear off might’ve been helpful too. But any information regarding the phoenix beside where to find it and what it looked like was few and far between.

Edgeworth stands over the bloody remains of a chimera, the fourth one in three days that he’s had to draw Mitsurugi for. The overused sword hasn’t had a proper washing either, since last night when Edgeworth tried to clean the sword and a swarm of pixies nearly lit his cot on fire. Stupid hell-spawn. Foolish, beastly-

“At least this one was smaller than the last two. I think you’re getting better, Edgeworth,” the bird chirps from his shoulder. “Your blade is a fine piece of steel, huh? Does it work against chains wrapped around innocent birds?”

Damn that bird. “Why would I ever tell you that?”

Without teeth, the bird grins. “So it’s a yes?”

“Do you want me to use this sword on you?” The phoenix curls back on his shoulder, shifting the chain against Edgeworth’s arm. It sits there most hours of the day, quipping its little heart out. Edgeworth figures it doesn’t have much else to do but do so in sad silence. It still gossips with Pess over lunch, but all other hours of Edgeworth’s waking life are spent with it perching beside his ear. Edgeworth thinks the act is intentional. A ploy. “You will not annoy me into submission,” he mutters in response to nothing. The bird adjusts its talons on his shoulder. Then the cycle begins.

Almost every day it begs, “Please let me go, I want to fly again.” As if its broken wing isn’t still a liability. Edgeworth has been watching it hold the wing still for the past few days. “I want to go home.” Like it has a home that isn’t a pile of sticks in a tree. Like Edgeworth isn’t the one with a real bed to go home to and even that is barely worth the trouble-

Edgeworth takes a few calming breaths. He’s been doing that a lot lately. The bird is just trying to manipulate him. It’s probably got a magic tongue that allows it to trick the smartest of men. Not me, thinks Edgeworth. I will not fall to your whims.

Because he needs a distraction, Edgeworth stops to clean his goddamn sword. The last artifact remaining of his father deserves that much. The phoenix seems to notice Edgeworth’s sour mood and for once decides to leave him to his own thoughts. Good riddance. 

He sits in the cool grass and remembers that the warm weather is coming to a close. A horrible time to be out here, really. All the creatures are beginning to remember what it means to starve. It scares Edgeworth deep down. But now all he feels is a numb sensation in his chest and mind. He doesn’t feel anything at all. All he can feel is the sword in his hands and his thoughts racing so fast, so fast-

Thank the heavens. I needed a moment to myself. All this chatter, I haven’t had a second to breathe. But he can’t breathe, he realizes. He can’t seem to take a breath in- I hate this. I hate von Karma and I hate this job. And I hate these creatures, these awful, awful creatures fueled by hate and death and suffering-

The trees sing so loud that his ears start to ring. They sway back and forth and back and forth in the breeze-less sky. Edgeworth’s vision begins to swim.

I don’t care, he realizes with bordering hysteria. Kill me now, all you terrible, horrible creatures, so I may be put out of my misery-

The phoenix nips at his ear. The contact stings. His mind goes quiet. In a fury, Edgeworth swats at it and knocks the bird off his shoulder. It tumbles to the ground with its wings splayed. Edgeworth doesn’t care as he drags the bird along the ground behind him even though Pess whines and whines. He doesn’t stop moving. Edgeworth just… walks.

They finally stop after Edgeworth realizes he doesn’t know where he is anymore. He glances up and the sky is dark. His legs are sore. He doesn’t even have the strength to fish out his supplies, practically falling to the earth. Then Pess lays her head between his legs and the ability to think comes back to him. How much time did he lose?

Frustrated, Edgeworth unhooks the cage and shoves the bird inside. Except it's less of a shove and more like a gentle push because all of him is exhausted. And he can’t bring himself to care. It fixes itself in the cage, covered in dirt and mud from when Edgeworth dragged it across the forest floor for what must’ve been hours. Yet the bird opens its small mouth and sings a gentle tune that calms the tree’s loud screaming to a hum. And that’s the only noise it makes. It doesn’t berate him. It doesn’t talk at all. Does it understand what Edgeworth just experienced? Can it understand?

This should worry him. But his eyes are fluttering shut and then Edgeworth can’t think much of anything.

…

As expected, the nightmare is worse that night. Despite the fact that Edgeworth twisted and turned for hours, his sleep is still plagued by terrors and awful, awful memories his mind won’t let him forget. 

He wakes up screaming in a cold sweat. No matter how many times he blinks his eyes and claws at his face, the images won’t fade. His father, his poor father. Dead on the ground. Murdered. His eyes still open. Slumped against their overturned cart. Fifteen years and he is still- still-

Miles curls in on himself and tries not to throw up. He can feel the bile churning in his stomach. He is pathetic. Weak. He needs to stop.

The bird is staring from its cage.

Somehow, Edgeworth manages to speak from his sore throat. “What,” he rasps. “Are you going to laugh at me, beast?” The bird says nothing. “Go ahead, laugh. Laugh! You might as well. But expect to be rewarded for it later.” He refuses to acknowledge that he is bluffing. He’ll likely do nothing. Honestly, part of Edgeworth actually does want the bird to laugh at him. Maybe, somehow, it’ll convince the foolish part of him that lets Edgeworth have nightmares to grow up.

“Are you alright?” says the tiny creature that Edgeworth has chained up in a metal cage. It's almost… sincere. The same voice that jests at Edgeworth’s every remark and talks bad about him to his dog can be gentle and soft. Comforting. Or, it would be. If things were different.

“What do you care?” Edgeworth’s own voice is strained. Broken. Even to his own ears, it’s unrecognizable.

“I just want to know. That looked… bad.”

Edgeworth cackles at himself. At the situation. At the fool of a creature. “I’m not going to let a bird console me! I’m not that desperate.” His fingers dig into the ground. The pounding in his chest has not ceased.

But the bird continues. “Do you have nightmares every night?”

He pauses. He could just roll over and pretend this never happened. Maybe Pess would walk over and settle at his side. In a perfect world, at least. No. In a perfect world, my father would be alive.

Edgeworth nods slowly. The bird adjusts its wings with a little trill. “Ah. I guessed that. You don’t sleep well. They must be bad.”

“Do you sleep at all?” Edgeworth manages to spit out.

“Actually, no, not really. It’s too cold. Internal body temperature and all that. It sort of sucks to run at furnace temperature most of the time.”

For some reason, Edgeworth keeps talking. “What about that first night? You were definitely asleep then.”

“Oh, ha, that,” the phoenix laughs. “I really only do that when I’m exhausted. Or when I know it’s safe to. I sort of had to… shut down, if you get what I mean.”

“You were rather cold…” Edgeworth recollects. “You must have stopped regulating body heat in order to build up energy.”

“Oh, yeah, pretty much. You’re pretty smart, Edgeworth.”

“I wish I could do that.”

“Huh?”

“Shut down.”

A silence hangs over the two of them. Edgeworth wonders if the bird truly understands what that means. He turns his head to stare at it directly, his eyes half open. His body feels drained. It’s a struggle to breathe.

“Do you want to talk about it?” the bird asks quietly.

“Not especially,” replies Edgeworth. He doesn’t take his eyes off the bird. I’m watching my cargo. I’m going to have to take him home eventually, aren’t I? But he wonders where home even is. After his episode today… how long is it going to take Edgeworth to get back on track? 

“You were screaming for your father.”

Curse himself and his stupid night terrors. “Ah. Then you already know more than you should.” 

The bird shrugs. “Then why not tell me the rest? I mean, who am I gonna tell? What am I gonna do? Tormenting you wouldn’t do me any good. And hey, maybe you need someone to-“

“Stop. Talking. I’ll tell you. You’ve proven your stupid point.” The bird shuts itself up and stares intently. This is an awful idea. But Edgeworth doesn’t care anymore. Not about most things. “My father is dead. He has been for a very long time. The memory simply likes to revisit me in my sleep. I’m told it’s a traumatic response. I’m also told that I’m possessed by demons. You can decide which you believe.”

“Demons are much more violent with their possessions,” the bird says seriously. “So I think you’re good. Well. Not good, but- you know. Not possessed by demons. Or by anything, I think.”

“No,” Edgeworth chuckles humorlessly. “Just insane.”

“No. Just… upset,” the bird murmurs. It’s so quiet. They stare at each other in the dark even though Edgeworth can’t make out its face clearly. But he can practically see the pity in its eyes. Edgeworth has seen it many times before. Practically his whole life. It’s not like me, he has to remind himself. The voice is throwing him off. Usually his targets don’t talk to him. Usually, they’re dead within minutes. But this bird…

“It’s weak,” Edgeworth mumbles into the cold air. “It was so long ago. And yet I can’t move on. I refuse to.”

He can hear the light tapping of the bird’s talons on the cage. “That’s not a bad thing.”

Edgeworth closes his eyes. “Stop talking to me.”

“Why?”

His chest feels like it’s about to burst. There’s so much pain, he knows that. There always has been. But Edgeworth has also always been so good at containing it. So why can’t he now? “I hate you. I hate you, you stupid bird. Things like you are what did this to me. He was taken from me by creatures like you. And here I am entertaining you, aren’t I? Do you find joy in this? Are you celebrating the triumph of your brethren for murdering my father? He wasn’t even able to fight back. He didn’t even hate you. But he should have. If he had known that all of his kindness towards you things would end with his cold, dead corpse on the side of the-“

“Edgeworth,” the phoenix is stern but somehow also gentle. Like a calming hand reaching out to Edgeworth’s shaking body. How long has he been shaking? Since he started yelling? Since he woke up? The bird continues, “Pull my cage closer. Please.”

“Why?” he spits. “Do you think I’m that much of an idiot?”

“Please,” it begs. “Please.”

Edgeworth pulls himself up on sore arms and reaches out to the cage, the air freezing. When he wraps his hand around one of the bars, however, his bare fingers press against the soft down of the phoenix's chest.

Immediately, his cold fingers warm. It doesn’t burn like he had feared, but had it not before? Did the phoenix have control over this power? He braves a look into its dark eyes. They’re much closer now, so much so that Edgeworth can watch the pity seep into its expression. And something else. But Edgeworth can’t decipher what it is. 

“Thank you,” the phoenix says, barely more than a whisper. “Is that helping?”

“What?”

“The warmth.” The phoenix huddles closer to Edgeworth’s hand. It… it does help, not that Edgeworth would admit it. The heat against his skin grounds him to that moment. It pushes away the images of his father to the back of his brain. Still present, if he thinks hard enough. But it’s an improvement.

“How did you know that would work?”

The phoenix shrugs against Edgeworth. He can feel the tiny bones in its body move, the feathers sliding against his skin. “Eh. I really didn’t. A lot of people say that I’m a little too comfortable with the whole bluffing thing.”

“Clearly. What if you had burned me?”

The phoenix shakes its head. “I can control that.”

“Knew it,” Edgeworth murmurs. His eyes are closing, slowly clouding his already poor view of the bird.

“Did you? You’re awful smart. You know- for a kidnapping dick.”

“I almost let myself believe that was a compliment.”

Despite the fact that it is a bird and Edgeworth’s eyes have long since shut, he can tell that the bird is smiling. “Well, I’m best friends with people who free me from cages. I give all kinds of compliments to them.”

Edgeworth yawns. “Tempting.”

“Really?”

“No,” he manages to reply. He had almost forgotten to. Edgeworth can feel his consciousness start to fade. It’s the coastal tide, ebbing in and out. He tries to keep his eyes open, he doesn’t want to fall back asleep. To go back to the nightmares and screaming that rings in his ears when he lets himself go. But Edgeworth can feel it taking him over. If he wasn’t so exhausted, he’d be terrified.

“Worth a try,” replies the phoenix, voice distant to Edgeworth’s ears. And then Edgeworth succumbs to sleep.

…

He wakes slowly. Edgeworth’s eyes flutter open and the sky is above him, just beyond the trees. His hand still rests on the phoenix. Maybe his fingers had dug in during the night, because the feathers stick out every which way. His hand pulls away.

The bird is cold. Had it really been that tired? Edgeworth remembers their brief conversation the night before. It probably wouldn’t wake for a long time, if it had ‘shut itself down’. Edgeworth sits up and decides to use this time for himself.

When he pulls his sword from under his supplies, he realizes. No nightmares. They didn’t return. As he polishes Mitsurugi, the reflection that stares back at Edgeworth looks well-rested. The bags under his eyes have dwindled. He almost looks… normal.

Pess crosses over the camp to lay her head in his lap and he pets her soothingly. Was it the bird? Edgeworth snaps his head around to glance at it. Still asleep. Deathly still. Does it have some sort of power over me? Is it getting into my mind, trying to manipulate me? 

But that’s hard to believe, looking at the phoenix. It seemed so genuine. It didn’t have to do anything for Edgeworth. It could have ignored him. Maybe it was annoyed with my screaming, he suggests to himself. Perhaps it hoped that helping me would allow it to sleep peacefully? But Edgeworth knows that’s faulty logic at best. The beast can clearly sleep through anything.

The thought of whether or not the phoenix has a name crosses his mind as he packs up his camp. It’s a bad thought. A wrong thought. Would it let me call it by its name? An even worse one.

“Good morning,” says the bird once he’s finished packing. “What’s the plan for today?”

Edgeworth approaches the cage. “Walking. A lot of walking.”

“Any freeing of birds chained to grumpy old men?”

Edgeworth smirks as he opens the cage and reaches his hand inside. The phoenix hops on as Edgeworth secures the chain to his wrist. “Absolutely not.”

He knows that something has gone wrong, if he's joking with this monstrous creature. Letting it rest on his shoulder and talk to him as he walks alongside Pess? Has he come to expect it? Is this his new normal?

“I’ll help you with your nightmares again if you want.” A kind offer. Too kind. The bird even sounds reluctant, like it’s worried the offer will offend Edgeworth. And it should, shouldn’t it?

“If you never mention it again, fine.”

“Alrighty!”

What happens when I give him to von Karma? His step falters. What then? But Edgeworth does not ponder that thought further, letting himself get lost in the music of the Woods. Because he doesn’t have an answer.

Chapter Text

Nights- now that the bird is aware - are easier. As pathetic as that is to admit. The nightmares haven’t gone away. Edgeworth has been plagued by them for over fifteen years- as if they would just disappear. But the images aren’t quite as horrifying, not nearly as lingering. He wakes to the rising sun and there’s the bird, just under the touch of his hand. So warm.

Some mornings, Edgeworth snaps his hand away and sneers at the monster. He hates it. He hates it with every fiber of his being. Maybe it’s petty, but Edgeworth does his best to be mean to the bird at all waking hours of the day. The phoenix is not his friend. And it never will be. Some might call it self-sabotage. Being cruel to the thing that’s brought him a change that was… good? 

But that doesn’t discourage the bird. Perhaps because of those other mornings, the ones where Edgeworth doesn’t rip his fingers from those delicate feathers. Because spirits, it’s so comforting. Edgeworth hasn’t shared a bed with anyone since his father passed. It’s probably been just as long since Edgeworth has touched anyone with any intention aside from inflicting violence. So this warped, disgusting obscenity is the closest thing to physical affection he’s received from anyone besides Pess. He should hate it. He should be revolted.

Instead, the phoenix makes him laugh.

He’d almost forgotten what that was even like- that bubbling in his chest that explodes like stars into laughter. Pess startles, she must have forgotten too. 

“What did I say? What did I say?” The phoenix sways on Edgeworth’s shoulder because he just can’t stay still. His whole chest is moving and he can’t make it stop. Breathing is a pain- but not in the bad way. Edgeworth can even feel tears prick in the corners of his eyes.

Edgeworth can’t even remember what the bird said anymore. All he can feel is that light, airy feeling making his whole body float up towards the sky.

He hates this bird. But the sound of its laughter- high and sweet yet entirely imperfect like a song- well, it’s not exactly unpleasant.

It should be. Yes, a lot of things should be, these days. But those thoughts fly away as quickly as they came when the laughter makes him topple over from pain. It hurts to laugh. It has truly been too long.

That morning, as the sun rises in the distance, Edgeworth is reduced to his knees, giggling like a teenage girl. Pess jumps up and down in glee, the phoenix flapping its wings in the cool air. He’s… Edgeworth is happy.

He stops laughing. Then the only sound is of his breathing and the muffled movement of feathers. Edgeworth almost wants to lash out, to hurt again. But that feels wrong.

“…time to pack up camp?” The phoenix knows his schedule. That should concern him.

“Yes. We have to move. We’re several days off track.” The bird makes itself small and untroubling as Edgeworth takes down his cot. That should concern him too.

But that’s the thing- it doesn’t.

…

“Edgeworth?”

The sun beats down on the back of his neck but the chill still creeps under his cloak and into his bones. Winter is coming on too fast and Edgeworth is still too far from the edge of the Woods to be considered safe…

“Hello…? Earth to Edgeworth.” When a pointed beak knocks on the side of Edgeworth’s head, he startles. “Anyone in there? I’m seeking counsel and I need your oh-so heavenly advice.”

“Stop buttering me up. I’m not letting you go.”

“Not about that, dumbass,” the phoenix drawls out, rolling its eyes. “I mean about the thing following us.”

Instinctively, Edgeworth whips around with Mitsurugi already in hand. But there’s no one there. “Funny trick, beast.”

“Not a trick. Look up.”

Edgeworth shoots the phoenix a confused look, then does as it says. Straining his neck, he looks straight up in the sky to see the bird is right. A dark shadow is circling them. And from the looks of it…

“Would you look at that. It seems as if your friends have come to help you, beast. One measly bird won’t do you much good, I’m afraid. What is that, a vulture? Scare tactics won’t-“

The phoenix pecks him on the head and dodges the swing Edgeworth sends his way. “Edgeworth,” it says, serious this time. “I don’t know what that is. It’s not magical.”

Dread creeps into Edgeworth’s head. Everything is magical here. Except Edgeworth. And… something else. What is he forgetting? Something important- but what?

The dark shape in the sky- definitely a bird by the way it’s moving, but the type isn’t yet clear- moves closer to them. And it’s not a coincidence. No, it’s definitely circling them. A spy? A hunting bird? 

Pess growls at the sky. Edgeworth’s stance drops into the defensive. “Well,” Edgeworth says lowly, “we’re about to find out.”

“Wait-“

The phoenix doesn’t get to finish that thought, though. Because the bird in the sky- a hawk, by the looks of it- swoops down at an impossible speed to hit Edgeworth over the back of the head.

Pess and the phoenix both jump as Edgeworth is knocked to the ground. His forehead thuds against the earth and for a moment all he can feel is a dull pain in the front of his skull. With a groan, Edgeworth tries to sit up but doesn’t make it far, the hawk swooping back around for a second go. Lesson learned, then. Stay on the ground. He checks the back of his head. No blood. That’s a small blessing.

Pess- wonderful Pess- jumps at the attacker in the air. Edgeworth can just barely see Pess’ legs leave the ground and come back down from his position, but her growls are loud enough for anyone to hear.

The phoenix hops up on Edgeworth’s shoulder. “Pess!” it screeches. “Pess, he’s dangerous! You have to be quiet!!” But that’s the phoenix’s mistake- the hawk doesn’t focus on Pess’s barking, instead turning around to dive at the phoenix.

Edgeworth only knows this because one second the bird is on his shoulder and the next it’s gone.

Panic sets in as soon as that weight is missing, then doubles when the chain wrapped around his wrist is yanked. Oh, thinks Edgeworth. The bird is attached to that chain. Then the Woods erupt in chaotic noise.

Finally able to sit up without threat of being rushed by a hawk, Edgeworth looks to see the phoenix suspended in the air by a pair of vicious black talons. It’s yelling, screaming, clearly in an abundance of pain. That injured wing flaps in full force despite the fact that it really shouldn’t be using it at all. The way it moves is definitely a bad sign. But it’s clear that the phoenix is hysterical, crying out like that. And Pess is no quieter. Edgeworth might even describe the sound as feral. He’s never heard her so distressed before. Not to mention the added horror of the trees- it’s not particularly windy, yet they sway and groan and scream right in Edgeworth’s ear.

Maybe in the future, Edgeworth would describe the next moment as a miracle. As he lives it, it can only be described as terrifying. In a split second, he yanks on the chain hard, knowing it’s going to hurt his wrist and fling the pair of birds at his chest. Talons, beaks and all. The adrenaline pushes him through that, though, bracing against the mess of feathers that collide with him. It’s a swarm of gold and brown. Edgeworth just barely manages to grab the right bird before he takes off towards the tree cover.

Edgeworth can see the hawk’s bright yellow eyes widen as he flings it into a tree.

“Pess!” He yells so loud his voice gives out. “Pess, come on!” He’s never been so grateful that she’s so loyal and follows after him into the forest.

In his hands, Edgeworth can feel the phoenix go cold. Bad. Very bad. Is it just knocked out? Or did the other bird get too close… But he can’t stop to check, not even to glance and see if the hawk is following. All his body can manage is running as fast as he can. His mind isn’t much different.

A bird. Not magic- a bounty hunter? Did Gavin hire someone else to catch the phoenix for him? But Edgeworth has the only map- the book is the only of its kind. Then maybe, he suddenly realizes, maybe it’s not here for the phoenix. Edgeworth runs down the list of enemies he’s made in his head. It’s not a short list. But bird should narrow that down a bit.

He’s almost made a connection when he runs full-body into a pole. Although pole isn’t the right term- it’s a staff. A weapon.

Edgeworth crumples to the ground, pain seeping through his stomach where he was hit. He has barely enough mental capacity to remember to shield the phoenix as he falls. There’s a rustle on the ground and Pess won’t stop barking and the trees are screaming. 

He groans and turns over. The phoenix is alright, maybe a little crushed. It must have passed out in the skirmish. Out of the corner of his eye he can see someone approach.

Above him is a tall giant of a man cloaked in leather and furs that looks down on him with fervor. But there’s a hint of something else too.

It only takes a moment for Edgeworth’s brain to understand what’s in front of him. The huge man, aggressive bird, annoying wooden staff.

“Simon Blackquill,” croaks Edgeworth.

“I forgot you were this much of a bloody idiot, Edgeworth-dono,” Blackquill’s low voice cuts through the air. The barking stops as a high whistle pitches through the air. Taka flies to land on Simon’s gloved arm.

A few things about Simon Blackquill:

He is the only man Edgeworth has ever seen in the forest. The trees do not sing in harmony with him because he doesn’t hum at all. That’s a trait all non-magical beings share. He’s also stagnant, a rock on the shore. Most men are not stupid enough to come out this far, or at all. Simon Blackquill is the sole exception, aside from Edgeworth and the von Karmas. 

But that comes to point two: Simon Blackquill is no hunter like Edgeworth. He doesn’t come out here with intent to kill, even if his demeanor suggests otherwise. Edgeworth actually has no idea what the man- boy, really, it’s obvious in his still-soft face but not much else- does out here. He’s an enigma. A wild spirit. Cocky and a bit brutish at times but whip-smart. And Blackquill knows it.

Third: Taka. The hawk. Blackquill keeps him at his shoulder at all times. Almost like what Pess is to Edgeworth but vicious and tempered. Edgeworth turns his head to look at his sweet girl and finds her staring Taka down. Taka, who is trained to be a killer. Still, he commends his girl for trying.

But point number four: Simon Blackquill is not an enemy. He is perhaps the closest thing to an ally that Edgeworth has ever come across in his line of work. Taka is the only way that he can communicate with the von Karmas while he’s away. The hawk often flies messages back and forth when the two men happen upon each other. The Woods are expansive, yet Simon Blackquill is always there when you need him. Dependable. Almost… a friend, if Edgeworth had any. So the question is: why did Taka attack him?

“You don’t usually sic your bird on me, Blackquill,” Edgeworth grunts as he stands back up. He can see Taka’s pupils dilate, watching him even now. “Although honestly, I shouldn’t be surprised. You are known for your-"

“Quiet,” snaps Blackquill. “You threw my bird into a tree. I think some aggression is warranted.” 

“Oh.” His throat is hoarse from the running and yelling. “Yes, I did do that…”

Blackquill doesn't waste any more time, grabbing Edgeworth by the lapel and pulling him close. For being such a large man, Blackquill is still just a child. But he certainly doesn’t act like it. “We need to talk, Edgeworth-dono.”

…

“I require your help. I’ll provide you with whatever you need, I just need your promise of aid.”

Short, concise and blunt. Not only that, but he might also be the only civilized being that Edgeworth has ever come across in these woods. He’s always liked Simon Blackquill.  

“What sort of help?” Edgeworth asks as he checks for the pulse of the phoenix for the umpteenth time. Now that they’ve been able to relax underneath a large oak tree, Edgeworth is free to worry as much as he wants. It’s maddening. Shouldn’t it be awake by now? But after the injuries it sustained- Edgeworth takes a moment to glare at Taka. Then he realizes he’s also shooting a glare at Simon Blackquill and promptly stops.

“Something has been stolen from me. Something I find to be very important.” Blackquill’s eyes are dark. He’s never been a happy man, no, but never so upset. That irks Edgeworth. “And the fae were the ones who did it.”

Edgeworth’s hands curl into a fist. The fae are one of the more populous creatures in the Woods, more or less depending on where you were. Not quite as bothersome as pixies but still monsters that Edgeworth likes to avoid. They’re probably the most organized of any creature here- they’ve built villages and towering cities in the middle of the forest that no man has ever tried to enter. Edgeworth included. That’s their land. Edgeworth just doesn’t understand why they don’t stay there.

“What did they take?”

Blackquill shifts, startling Taka on his shoulder. The shade of the trees doesn’t hide his anger. “A child. They stole a child.”

Edgeworth takes a moment to process that, then rage starts to simmer deep inside him. A child. “Why would they do that?”

“She wasn’t the first,” Blackquill mutters, his voice softer now. Perhaps unconsciously, he begins to smooth down the fluffed up feathers on Taka’s back. “It’s been happening more and more recently. Children all throughout the Wood have been taken by raids of fae for the past few months, but the past few weeks have been devastating.”

Pess whines. “There are that many human children in the Woods?”

That makes Blackquill look uneasy. It’s barely noticeable, but Edgeworth’s whole life depends on picking up on those sorts of things. “No. They’re all magic, as far as I know.”

They both go quiet. Blackquill knows what Edgeworth does for a living. He’s even helped Edgeworth send letters back and forth to von Karma using Taka as a messenger. Blackquill has, in a way, helped Edgeworth kill many of the monsters that he hunts here. At the very least, he’s complicit.

So what does Blackquill have to do with a magical child?

“Your bird looks hurt,” Blackquill cuts back in. “Perhaps I should take a look.” It’s an obvious ploy to stop Edgeworth’s racing mind. A quid-pro-quo. And it sort of works- the phoenix is injured. It’s not clear how severe the damage is. And Blackquill is obviously more knowledgeable about this kind of thing than he is. The logical decision would be to accept the offer.

But Edgeworth does not like being led on. So he pushes.

“What reason do you have for saving a monster?”

Immediately, Edgeworth knows he’s made a mistake. Blackquill tenses, shoulders raised and brows furrowed. Somehow he makes himself seem even larger. It’s honestly terrifying. Edgeworth doesn’t doubt that Blackquill could be violent if he wanted. Not to mention the kid’s mind.

“You have no right to ask me that, Edgeworth-dono.” Blackquill makes a point to glance down at the phoenix then back up at the man across from him. “I’m not passing any judgment on you. I’m attempting to be civil. I certainly do not have to be.” His voice cuts daggers through the air.

He needed to diffuse the situation. “Blackquill,” he attempts. “I apologize. Clearly, this is important to you.”

But the anger doesn’t fade. Neither does the creeping desperation that Edgeworth is just starting to notice. “You can look past it, just this once. You save her now and then you’ll never see her again. I won’t even let you try, actually.”

It’s against what Edgeworth stands for. He doesn’t mess with the direct affairs of monsters. It’s not his job. The fae are far too magical and strong anyways. But still… Edgeworth thinks of himself, alone, stranded in the middle of a dirt road on a cold winter day. He was saved, then. And isn’t a child still a child, whether they’re magic or not?

What would von Karma do?

What would his father do?

His father would be kind. Gracious. He would save these people who have nothing to do with him simply because he could.

That does it for Edgeworth. He asks with a tired sigh, “You’ll fix the bird?”

Blackquill nods seriously. “Whatever you need, as long as we can leave by morning.” He moves closer to Edgeworth, holding out his hand. It takes Edgeworth a moment to realize it’s for the bird and he hands the phoenix over. A moment too late, Edgeworth remembers the chain.

Throughout all of this, the phoenix had been fixed to his wrist, never able to fly more than a foot or so away. Even while being attacked by Taka. But it would be necessary to take it off now, wouldn’t it? Realistically, Blackquill definitely couldn’t help the creature while it was restricted to his wrist.

This doesn’t matter, he reminds himself. Gavin just wants it alive. A broken wing shouldn’t matter. But it does. It does matter. So he undoes the chain from his own wrist and hands the phoenix over.

Unconscious fear rises in his throat at the sight of Taka leaning down to look closer at the phoenix. Even Pess sits up and growls. But Edgeworth puts a hand on her head and wills the both of them to calm down.

So Edgeworth watches Blackquill inspect the phoenix in focused silence. The man’s large hands are surprisingly gentle, scarred palms and deft fingers smoothly running over the broken form of the phoenix’s wing. Stretched out like it is, without anything else to look at, it’s painfully obvious how wrong it stretches and splays. Especially when Blackquill has Taka display his own wing for reference. Unwittingly, the image of a broken arm or leg flashes through Edgeworth’s mind.

“The splint you used originally wasn’t bad,” Blackquill starts. “But- it obviously didn’t last very long.” Blackquill sifts through his oversized cloak and takes out a roll of bandages. “This only appears slightly fractured. Perhaps a bit bruised, but- for most birds, a broken wing is a death sentence.”

Edgeworth contains the shock he’s feeling quite well, he’d say. “Really?”

“Flying is one of birds’ only lines of defense against predators. And broken wings don’t heal easily. Yet… this is actually coming along quite nicely. He’s lucky. It should be a quick recovery, if you don’t endanger his life again.”

“He?”

Blackquill nods. It occurs to Edgeworth that the boy may not even understand what he’s holding- how truly odd and extraordinary this moment is. For a moment, Edgeworth reels with the true weight of Blackquill attending to a phoenix, a creature that no one rightfully believed existed until a few days ago, in order to win Edgeworth over.

“-geworth-dono? Are you even listening?” Shaking his head, Edgeworth brings himself back into the present. Blackquill is staring at the phoenix intensely. Taka is as well. They’re so alike it’s frightening. “I said he’s a rather beautiful bird. I’ve never seen this coloring before.”

“It’s… not native to this area.”

Blackquill gives him an unimpressed look as he starts to wrap the bird’s wing to its body. “No, I suppose not.” As he finishes fixing the wing tightly against its side, he gives Edgeworth a sour look. “You’re not letting me fix him just so you can kill him later, are you?” Taka, too, wears an expression of near fury.

Edgeworth shakes his head, a little too eagerly. “No, no.” But he doesn’t mention the man who’s paying handsomely to have this bird found. Or that beyond bringing the bird home, Edgeworth has no idea as to what its fate will be. “It’ll be fine as long as it's in my hands.” At least that isn’t a lie.

The bird is warm when Blackquill hands it back to Edgeworth. It sits limply in his palms. At least the phoenix isn’t cold anymore, but to see it so lifeless… it’s wrong. His throat feels tight.

“What exactly am I getting myself into?” Edgeworth says in an attempt to get his mind off the image of this broken bird. 

“It’s not going to be easy,” Blackquill says with some hesitation. “Especially considering who’s involved.” Without a bird to bandage, Blackquill stands up to collect kindling for a fire. Yes, look at that, Edgeworth glances at the sky. It’s already getting dark.

As he takes out a small kettle to brew tea, sure to not awaken the bird, Edgeworth affirms, “The fae, yes.”

Blackquill won’t look up from the spark he’s trying to light as he talks. “No. Not just any fae.” The younger man takes a breath and sighs. He glances at Taka and mutters, “This isn’t just some rogue fae clan taking out their anger on the creatures of the forest. It’s organized. I… believe it to be the work of the Lady Hawthorne herself.”

Edgeworth grits his teeth. Lady Dahlia Hawthorne. She’d been a looming presence in the Woods for the past few years. Always lurking, ever-watching. Thankfully, Edgeworth has had the pleasure of never running into her. But he’s sure he’s been caught in her influence once or twice, even if he hasn’t noticed. She is, after all, the ruler of the faes in this forest. All the cities are hers to wield and control.

From what he’s heard, she’s vicious and unnecessarily cruel. The fae are mostly unassuming but she- she is something different entirely. They say she took power suddenly- and violently. Edgeworth wasn’t around back then. He’s only heard tales of genocide in the Woods. Another example of these people’s savagery.

“Hawthorne is kidnapping magical children? What-"

“I haven’t got a clue,” Blackquill growls.

“…Hawthorne?”

Surprised, Edgeworth looks down to see the phoenix twitch in his hands. Besides talking, it doesn’t move. Blackquill startles and freezes from across the fire pit. Edgeworth can faintly see him mouth the words ‘it can talk’? Edgeworth nods.

“You know about Lady Hawthorne?” Edgeworth asks.

“She’s here? Is she here?” Its little chest heaves, bursting forward and collapsing with every breath it takes. “Dahlia’s here?”

“No,” says Blackquill briskly. “She is far, far away. You’re safe, avian.”

The phoenix curls in on itself and breathes out in relief. Edgeworth can’t help the twinge of annoyance- the bird knows Hawthorne. And from the looks of it, personally. He hates being out of the loop for things like this.

“We’re going to have to confront her tomorrow,” Edgeworth slides in, feeling that irritation really take hold. It’s petty. He knows it is. But there’s still satisfaction when he sees the bird’s eyes widen with fear. 

“W-what? We can’t- we can’t do that! She’s the most vile person in the Woods- that is the worst fucking idea you’ve ever had- “

“Quiet, beast,” Edgeworth practically snarls. Blackquill’s gaze seems to harden but he turns away. Even Pess- so quiet and loyal- draws her ears back and whines. “Simon Blackquill needs our help. Though I suppose you wouldn’t care about whether or not you leave a child in the hands of the tyrant Lady Hawthorne?” That shuts the bird up. It tries to wiggle out of Edgeworth’s grasp but he won’t let it. He’s tired and sore and irritated. 

And terrified. He’s terrified of so many things that he can’t even tell what they all are. But he pushes past those feelings easily. It’s something he’s used to.

Blackquill finally lights the fire amid their silence. 

“I just… she’s not just another fae, Edgeworth,” the phoenix whispers. It’s voice just barely registers over the sound of the crackling flame. Pess and Taka have curled close to it. But Edgeworth- and he hates it - is kept perfectly warm by the gentle heat of the creature in his lap. “She’s a monster. She’s a tyrant. There’s no reason she should be allowed to rule anything, fae or otherwise. There are groups that are working against her- or, uh. So I’ve heard. If she’s taken a child… I don’t know what she has in store for them. But it can’t be good.”

“Then you know why we have to help.” Edgeworth pours water from his canteen into the kettle and puts it over the fire. A few minutes and it will be bubbling. But this quiet forest makes every minute stretch into hours.

The bird is silent for a long time. There’s simply the sounds of sparks shooting off the pit, the slow boiling of water. Then, “Yeah. I do.”

They sit among the quiet until the kettle screams and Edgeworth pulls it off the fire. He gives Blackquill a cup and then the group of them bask in the empty dark of the night.

Edgeworth lays on his back and stares up at the stars. He winds the chain back around his arm, snagging it tight as he counts off the tiny dots embedded in each memorized pattern. There’s a memory poking at the back of his mind- a night like this, accompanied by his father in the dark. Picking out constellations together, making their own, coming up with stories. It’s so distant now. But gazing up at the stars- it’s so easy to get lost in it. In fact, Edgeworth finds himself so caught up in the memories of his father, of tiny hands pointing at twinkling, living fairy tales, of a life that seems so long ago that it feels like a dream- in all of that- that his tea goes cold in his hands.

“Bird?” Edgeworth just barely utters.

“Yeah?”

“Wake me up if I start to have a nightmare. I don’t want to disturb Blackquill.” Edgeworth spares a glance at the sleeping boy, Taka still keeping watch while perched on his shoulder. Pess is curled up by the dying fire, resolutely asleep.

The phoenix shakes itself out, adjusting the wing that’s kept flush against its side by the bandages. Edgeworth has the sudden impulse to run his hand through its feathers when he hears the bird speak.

“…I’m scared, Edgeworth,” he says. “Lady Hawthorne. She’s- she’s not-“ He trembles against the man’s chest. Edgeworth gives into that impulse from before and plays with the smooth feathers on his back between his fingers.

“Be quiet, bird,” Edgeworth responds. But it’s soft. Gentler than he has ever heard his voice before. The phoenix tilts his head in confusion. Edgeworth is confused too. But he ignores it. He can’t possibly confront this. Not now. “Goodnight, bird.”

“‘Night,” he whispers back.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Edgeworth?”

Edgeworth doesn’t even look up to respond to the bird, too absorbed in his writing. “What do you want?”

“Well,” the phoenix says, peering over Edgeworth’s shoulder. “The scribbles you’re making on that paper. What’re those for?”

“I’m… writing a letter?” Edgeworth says and sets his pen down to look at the bird head on. His beak is tilted to the side, gazing inquisitively at Edgeworth. “Can you read, bird?”

“Oh, definitely not. Is that supposed to be words?”

Edgeworth scoffs. “Yes. You really can’t read?”

“Not your stupid little markings. They’re all… loopy and curvy. What is that… an ‘a’? No, no- that’s got to be an ‘o’!” The phoenix squints his dark eyes at the paper.

“It’s an ‘s’,” Edgeworth smirks. The poor thing looks crestfallen, being wrong. But it’s probably a good thing- this is a letter that Edgeworth would prefer the bird never to read. It is, after all, an update going to von Karma about his progress in capturing the phoenix. But that’s not even the worst part.

No, the worst part about all of this is that Edgeworth is lying. 

Sir, it begins. My quest is likely to continue to be quite an effort, considering I’ve yet to identify the whereabouts of the elusive creature. He- it, it, it- must be the most rare monster in the forest, because I’ve found no trace of it anywhere. But I promise to ensure it’s capture and return to the manor as quickly as I am physically able. You may reassure the client that he will receive the phoenix soon.

I hope Franziska is well. Tell her she would have found the phoenix by now if she was sent in my stead. She would appreciate the sentiment, if she ever cared for any sort of sentiments at all.

He’s lying to von Karma. And he can’t explain why. He can’t- fathom why. It’s a horrible idea. Quite possibly the worst he’s ever had. But Edgeworth needs a little more time if he wants to help Blackquill rescue his magical ward. And von Karma would never understand that. He’s never acted lightly towards monsters. There is only one verdict for such sinful creatures- guilty, punishable by death.

Edgeworth is the same way. Or, he used to be. He should be.

He finishes the letter and rolls the paper shut, tying it with a spare piece of string he happens to find. Taka takes the roll of parchment gladly and it’s easily secured to a tiny capsule attached to his body.

“That’ll take a few days to get to von Karma, won’t it?” Edgeworth asks.

Blackquill looks solemn as Taka lands on his wrist. “Yes, we’ll have to continue without him,” he says as he scratches underneath Taka’s throat. The hawk appreciates it, leaning into the touch of Blackquill’s hand. “Your bird… he’s magical, isn’t he?”

Edgeworth is a little hesitant to be so forthcoming about something so important but he supposes it couldn’t hurt. “Yes. He is.”

“Then he will have to guide us into the Woods to find Hawthorne. He’ll be able to track such potent magic.” And with that, Taka takes off into the sky. In the corner of his vision, the phoenix looks solemnly- almost with jealousy- towards the hawk as he becomes a black dot against the white clouds. If Blackquill was right and a broken wing really was a death sentence- what would happen to the phoenix? Would he ever be able to fly again? 

Edgeworth was sure that he had some sort of accelerated healing, though. Of course he would fly again.

Stop that, says von Karma’s voice in his ear. That sort of thought is dangerous. It really is- it scares Edgeworth, he knows how much he’s changed. Maybe the bird’s altering his mind after all. But it must be powerful magic, because Edgeworth can’t find it in himself to fight like he used to.

The three of them watch Taka fly off in silence. Then they begin walking further into the Woods.

…

The phoenix begins to shake the closer they get to where Edgeworth figures Lady Hawthorne is hiding. The Woods have changed around them, too. Almost no light seeps in from the leaves and the branches hang low. There’s a sort of evil hanging in the air in this part of the forest. Even Blackquill, who can easily be compared to a stone wall on any given day, seems unnerved.

Edgeworth doesn’t take his hand off Mitsurugi’s hilt. The Woods are almost deathly silent.

“We’re definitely getting close,” whispers Blackquill. “It was like this the last time.”

“What happened last time?” The phoenix asks. Edgeworth can hear fear within his voice. 

Blackquill’s eyes go cold and distant. “It was an ambush. They must have sensed Athena’s presence. The trees began the tremble when they arrived. Then they were gone, and so was she.” A shiver runs up Edgeworth’s spine.

“Yes, we’re definitely in the right place,” he says as he turns his head to look at a mangled form of a pine. Its limbs are splayed out in every direction and its bark is so warped that it looks like it has a thousand faces. “Bird, what do you sense?”

“Nothing,” he mutters from Edgeworth’s shoulder. “It’s so quiet. It’s… wrong, here.” Edgeworth has to agree.

They walk a few more paces, then the bird screeches. “Wait!” The two men freeze to see the phoenix has gone rigid, staring at a shadow just a short distance ahead of them. Then they hear the hissing.

It’s so sudden that Edgeworth blinks and practically misses everything. He could only compare the sensation to that of a flash flood- one moment everything’s calm, then the next Edgeworth is barreled over and struggling to find his footing. And the worst thing- the water under his feet is alive , because it’s not water, it’s hundreds upon hundreds of snakes. The way they writhe around his legs and each other makes Edgeworth gag. And the whole of them really does look like water- like a single creature with a thousand limbs moving all at once, reaching out to grab at anything it can.

“Move, move!” The phoenix screeches from his shoulder. But the sound is distant, echoing quietly in Edgeworth’s ears. “They’re venomous!” In the corner of his vision, Simon Blackquill brings his staff down towards the ground and the snakes with a thud. Poor Pess- who has nothing protecting her from the mess below her feet- whines anxiously. 

Blackquill kicks a hoard of snakes into a tree with a grunt. “Where did they even come from?” It doesn’t take long for Edgeworth to figure that out as he swats a falling snake from his face.

The trees. They fell from above in the trees. 

In a quick moment, Edgeworth unsheathes his sword and brings its heel into the trunk of a tree. He can hear it’s scream but the hissing of raining snakes is louder. Honestly, that was a horrible idea. Even more snakes fall to the ground. But Edgeworth would rather know what he’s dealing with than be surprised later.

The phoenix isn’t having any of it. He cries out in fear, digging his talons into the armor on Edgeworth’s shoulder. It’s not painful but the metal does press closer into his clothes underneath. “Why are we still here?! Edgeworth, get us the hell out of here!”

In a panic, Edgeworth almost listens. But Blackquill stands firmly.

“She’s here. Athena has to be here.”

“Here?!” The phoenix screeches back. “I’m sorry, Mr. Blackquill, but if she’s here we probably can’t save her at this point-” The bird cuts off, probably at the sight of whatever look Blackquill is giving him.

But he’s right. There’s so many of them that Edgeworth can’t see his own feet. That poor girl, he thinks as he plunges his sword into the flailing mass. Even if she’s magic, does anything deserve to die this way? He can only imagine the suffocating feeling of being crushed by their sporadic bodies. But considering how hard it is to move, every step like trudging through mud, will he have to imagine much longer?

Pess is overwhelmed by the snakes in the time it takes for Edgeworth to rip his sword back into the air. He would scream, if the air wasn’t caught in his throat. It doesn’t matter if his feet are stuck, or the bird is screaming in his ears, or that despite all of this insanity, the Woods are still quieter than they should be. He’s going to save his goddamn dog.

The bird tries to take off with a single wing but Edgeworth pulls him along anyway, breaking through the horde. The snakes fly everywhere, squirming and wriggling in midair. Edgeworth can only see the faint white blur of Pess’ paw scrambling in the air. He thinks of dead bodies, of tiny girls and wonderful dogs, smothered and lost and all he can do is run.

He flings himself into the snakes and the bird shrieks behind him.

It’s a mass of unceasing bodies, his light armor being the only thing protecting Edgeworth from their venom. It was like sticking his hand in a bucket of worms- just an awful sensation. He could feel the hairs on his neck stand on edge. But it was all worth it when he felt the smooth, glossy fur of Pess. Without a moment of hesitation, he tugs.

“Edgeworth, Edgeworth please- “ the bird cries in his ears. He sounds absolutley petrified. “We have to leave, we can’t stay, it’s not safe here-“ Edgeworth tugs harder. Finally- finally- Pess’ long head emerges. Her eyes are wide and panicked and she’s yelping in terror, but she’s alive. But as he pulls her out completely, Edgeworth sees something else further down.

A hand. A child’s hand. Edgeworth tucks Pess under an arm, then scoops the snakes out of the way with the other.

Everything screams around him, all aside from the forest. Blackquill must notice because soon another pair of hands is digging along as well. There’s a sliver of bright red hair, then a foot, and then Blackquill pulls a tiny child into his arms.

She’s… young. So much younger than Edgeworth had feared her to be. Athena- that’s what Blackquill called her before, what he’s whispering into her hair now as he holds her close. She can’t be any older than seven or eight. A literal child.

But hanging limply in Blackquill’s arms, Athena looks relatively untouched. She’s scuffed up, sure, but there’s no bite wounds, or gashes, or bruises. Edgeworth looks down at Pess and sees his dog seems fine too. But if they weren’t attacking… what did these snakes want?

He almost doesn’t immediately see the snakes parting, slithering away into the shadows. But Edgeworth catches a glimpse- they move like a hive mind, dispersing all at once. And suddenly, they aren’t alone.

How did Edgeworth not notice? The forest had been so quiet but now it’s screaming. Something big is coming. Something powerful.

“We’re too late,” whispers the phoenix as he tries to hide himself in Edgeworth’s cloak. “She’s here.”

And she was. Lady Hawthorne.

She is surrounded by an entourage of other fae, all practically kneeling and worshiping at her feet. Her pale dress makes her stand out easily against the dark backdrop of the forest. A single snake slithers by her foot and she bends down to hold it in her hand.

“Blackquill,” says her sweet, saccharine voice. “You’re still here. And I gave you the chance to run away. Pity.” She offhandedly twists a strand of her bright red hair, looking disgusted. “I’m not inclined to be nice anymore.”

Blackquill stays still under her gaze. Edgeworth doesn’t blame him. Dahlia Hawthorne rules this forest.

“They’ll leave now,” Edgeworth calls out. A couple of fae gasp. Yes, he thinks smugly. I don’t care about your stupid queen or your customs. “Now that Blackquill has his ward back.”

Hawthorne smiles. But it’s vile, everything a smile shouldn’t be. “Thieves. All of you. There are punishments for thieves.” She runs a delicate finger over the crown on her head- gold, curled around her head like serpents, adorned with the tiny figures of butterflies. A symbol of power. She knows what she can do and she’s showing them blatantly. Edgeworth sneers.

“You’re the one who stole the child first.” He tries to take a step forward but the fae around Hawthorne don’t appreciate that much, moving forward to meet him. They’re loyal. Edgeworth hates that about magical people.

“Stole?” She laughs, shrill and dainty. “Blackquill’s human. She belongs to the forest. I was returning her.”

“She’s not even fae,” Blackquill growls back. He pulls the girl in closer to his chest.

We’re being surrounded, Edgeworth notes. The fae around them are moving in slowly, almost unnoticeably. She’s got us trapped. One of them places a hand on his shoulder and Edgeworth jumps. Their eyes are glazed over, their hands are cold. They look dead.

Panic starts to set in when Hawthorne glides forward. “I’ve already given you one chance. It’s not happening again.” She’s reaching out towards Athena, the snake on her wrist opening its jaws as she speaks. “I’m going to take her back now. And then we’re going to make sure I never have to see either of you again.” There’s a darkness to her eyes that Edgeworth just now sees- something horrible and nasty. He’s killed monsters, real monsters with fangs and spikes and huge, immovable bodies. But Dahlia Hawthorne’s eyes are crueler than any monster he’s ever faced. And she’s right there, in front of him-

The bird really has a wonderful sense of timing, because he chooses that moment to burst from underneath Edgeworth’s cloak and throws himself in Hawthorne’s face. It’s an explosion of feathers and red hair. Hawthorne screams, clawing at the phoenix. It’s a brilliant idea, spur of the moment and effective, but Edgeworth can see the terror take over the bird’s body. Edgeworth is quick to tug on the chain and pull him away from Lady Hawthorne. The phoenix must have used his talons, because the brief glimpse of Hawthorne’s face between her hands is dark, dull red.

Edgeworth takes the chaotic opportunity to turn and run. Thankfully, Blackquill gets the idea and follows after him. The fae are all in disarray as they bolt away from that clearing as quick as their legs will take them.

Distantly, he can hear Hawthorne screech. “ Phoenix! You can’t hide from me anyone, you foul creature!”

Edgeworth's heart thuds in his chest. She knows. She knows what he is, and she knows I have him. The phoenix must realize that too because his feathers flatten to his body and he trembles.

Somehow, they manage to escape. But Edgeworth knows that’s not the last time he’ll meet Dahlia Hawthorne.

…

They run silently until they can’t run anymore. Pess practically collapses out of exhaustion. Edgeworth wants to do the same. But instead he hobbles over to Blackquill and the little girl they saved.

She’s small. But now that she’s awake, Edgeworth can really see the damage that was done. Nothing physical, but the pain in her blue eyes is startling. No child should ever look that way. Even if they’re magical.

That’s the other thing- she doesn’t look magic in the slightest. But fae look human too. And all creatures, magic or not, bleed and hurt the same way. 

Blackquill and Athena hug each other tightly. It’s clear that they’re close- maybe like siblings. Edgeworth thinks of Franziska, who’s not that much older than Blackquill, and realizes he misses her. She’s a pain. An absolute pain- but Edgeworth misses her dearly and hopes she’s doing far better than the tiny girl in front of him.

“Are you hurt, Blackquill?” Edgeworth croaks. The man shakes his head. “Do you need anything?”

“Water. If you have any.”

So Edgeworth quietly takes out his canteen and hands it over. It’s nearly empty. But Athena drinks every last drop.

She looks into Edgeworth's eyes and he knows that she’s a telepath. There’s not many of them and it’s hard to tell, usually. But it’s all in her intense gaze- she must be trying to read what he’s feeling. She’s just a child, he tells himself and tries not to feel violated. But Athena must sense that because she turns away and buries herself in Blackquill’s furs. 

“Thank you,” mutters Blackquill. “I never would have got her back without you.”

Edgeworth has never liked compliments. He squirms a bit at the praise. “Thank the bird. He got us out of there.” Being mentioned, the phoenix pokes his little head out of Edgeworth’s cloak and gives a little nod. Athena lights up at the sight of him, reaching out her tiny hands to grab. 

Edgeworth blanks but the phoenix seems eager. It hops out and into Athena’s lap, the chain just long enough to reach her. Athena pets him gently on the head and smiles. It’s the first time she’s done that since Edgeworth’s met her.

“Well then, thank you, bird.” It sounds silly coming from Blackquill’s deep voice. But he talks the same way to his own hawk, doesn’t he? And he’s so genuine… Edgeworth can’t keep back a small smile. That is, until the thought of Lady Hawthorne returns.

The burning hunger in her eyes. The mob that followed her. It unnerved him. Hawthorne couldn’t continue to rule over this place. It was wrong for Edgeworth to allow otherwise.

Besides… if von Karma were here, he’d go after her too. She knew about the phoenix- Edgeworth’s prize. If she tried to follow him out of the forest… how far would she go? Of course he had to take down Lady Hawthorne. She was a menace. She would have to die.

Edgeworth glances over to Athena staring at him with fear. Right, a telepath- she could probably understand the anger he’s feeling right now, if not read every death wish he’s relaying in his mind. But she would understand. She of all people would understand.

Briefly, he doubts himself. The bird- he was terrified. I should leave the forest and all this behind me. But if the phoenix was so terrified, he would enjoy her death too, wouldn’t he? The bird is still in the hands of the little girl, who’s starting to doze off. He looks over and the bird hops out to sit next to Edgeworth again.

We have to go after her again, Edgeworth tries to say with just his eyes.

No. Too dangerous. No, the bird seems to reply back.

How they manage to understand each other is a mystery. He certainly can’t read Edgeworh’s mind. Although… could he?

Unnerving thought aside, Edgeworth tilts his head towards Athena and Blackquill. This can’t happen again. We have to stop this.

The phoenix looks away, his eyes distant. Then he looks Edgeworth square in the face and tugs the chain gently.

Will you let me go?

Edgeworth shakes his head.

The phoenix sighs, then hops on his shoulder to whisper in his ear. “There’s a festival in a few days. Every fae will be there. Even Dahlia. With so much chaos… she might not be expecting something direct.” He’s likely being quiet so Blackquill won’t overhear and volunteer to help. He seems like the type.

Edgeworth turns to stare at the phoenix, his eyes still as dark as they’ve always been. But there’s something more there, too. 

“Then that’s our play.”

“But I refuse to kill anyone. Not even her.”

Edgeworth is a liar. He has not always been, but ever since meeting this bird, he's changed. 

“Fine. We won’t.”

Athena, if she was awake, would glare at Edgeworth again. Not because he’s lying, but because for some inexplicable reason, there’s some sort of turmoil that his brain can’t shut off. And it’s all he can think about.

There’s a knot in his chest when he goes to sleep. And when he wakes up from a startling nightmare he’s seen a thousand times before to the solid heat of the phoenix on the bare skin of his shoulder. When Athena and Blackquill take their things and set off to someplace far, far away from here, that knot is still there. He wants to feel happy for them because they’re together and free, and he wants to feel angry that he’s let a magical being go, even if she’s just a child. But he feels a whole lot of nothing.

That knot only grows the closer he, Pess and the bird get towards the citadel of the faes. And he realizes that maybe he wants to die in this forest. Because after everything he’s done, after everything he’s merely thought , von Karma would never want to see his face again.

Chapter Text

Edgeworth might have been in over his head.

There’s a multitude of reasons why- he’s never been to the fae’s densely packed city, he’s hadn't been expecting the intense headache he gets from being around so many magical creatures at once. For the most part, he gets in undetected. Unlike the people on the edges of the Woods, the fae don’t seem to care who comes in and out of their city. They hadn’t even batted an eye at Pess. But there’s a lot of other animals here- if Edgeworth didn’t know that they can feel the magic around them, he’d probably guess that the magical people here thought she was some sort of talking dog.

The phoenix is tucked between Edgeworth’s armor and his cloak. He briefly wonders if the bird has ever been in this city before. Edgeworth surely hasn’t- everywhere he looks, he’s is startled by the sheer number and diversity of the creatures around him. Never has there been so many in one place before. But he can’t ask the bird for more details- that would be dangerous. That would risk him being found out. If Hawthorne knew about his existence already, would anyone else?

Was it dangerous to bring him here?

Should it matter?

Mitsurugi is hidden underneath his cloak as well, his other secret. Most of the people on these streets have weapons of some kind but none with such a bloody history like Edgeworth’s sword. It’s a burning presence at his side. 

The phoenix can probably feel his heart thudding out of control even through the metal plating on his chest. He’s not used to dealing with such high levels of anxiety. He desperately hopes he’s doing a good job at appearing aloof. 

At least there’s the warm, comforting presence of the bird, welcome against his shoulder. He’s usually cold anyways, and the fear that’s started to frost over his brain doesn’t help. Yet ever since the bird managed to wedge itself into a spot that his armor doesn’t cover, the contact has grounded him in a way his thoughts can’t.

I hate to admit it, Edgeworth thinks as he walks past what looks like a sentient pile of rocks, but I think I’m glad to have him here with me. The sentiment leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

Despite having never been here before, Edgeworth can tell the citadel is preparing for something important. Every street he walks past has strings of colorful paper and flowers hanging from signposts. Windows are open so that friends can say hello to one another. Freshly baked goods are sitting on stands ready to be eaten. It’s so happy. So human.

There’s a sense of something else, too, lurking behind those happy smiles of the magical creatures he passes on the streets. Edgeworth can recognize it, a feeling he knows all too well. The decorations, the jolly mood- for many of these creatures, it’s a ploy. A ruse to fool the guards with glassy eyes that are stationed at every corner. They’re trying to impress the rulers of this city into believing that everything is well.

The phoenix had said that there were groups working against Lady Hawthorne. Is everyone unhappy with her rule? Perhaps the want for change wasn’t so unpopular after all. 

Edgeworth adjusts his cloak as he steps over a horde of snakes making their way towards the center of the citadel. The movement is actually more of a disguise for the comforting hand he puts on the bird’s shoulder. Despite being so warm, it has begun to shiver. He must know they’re getting close.

Dahlia Hawthorne's tower rises much higher than any other building in the citadel, proving Edgeworth's assumption of her egotistical and vain nature. It must be newer, too, because while most of the houses and markets show signs of wear, Lady Hawthorne’s palace is pristine and white. Edgeworth can’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance. 

The monsters he hunts tend to be wanderers that stalk the outskirts of small towns. Lone wolves, evil creatures that have a base desire to maim and destroy. But swelling in Edgeworth's chest is a greater sense of righteousness about this quest. Taking down a beast is one thing- but a tyrant? A dictator who obviously cares more about herself than her people? It doesn’t even matter that they’re not human. He’s doing something… right. That goes beyond what von Karma taught him. 

I think… my father would be proud.

That’s not a thought he usually has, nor a thought he’d usually welcome. Comparing himself to his father is wrong because his father was so good. Edgeworth is pretty sure that his father never killed a thing in his painfully short life. Edgeworth has killed hundreds. Even if they deserved it.

But if his father could see him now- what would he say? 

…

Edgeworth stops just a short distance from the tower and pulls the bird out from underneath the cloak. Feathers are shaken, then flattened all within a moment. It allows Edgeworth to see a flash of iridescence that had previously been hidden away by dirt and grime.

The bird notices him staring. “Hey, if we’re going to take her down, I might as well look the part, right?” The joking tone doesn’t quite mesh well with the bird’s anxious disposition. Edgeworth appreciates the attempt regardless.

“Yes,” he replies back with a smirk. “You’ll want to look nice for the paintings and murals they make of us afterwards.”

“You could definitely use a brush or something. Do you want the folktales written about us to describe you with messy hair?”

Edgeworth runs a hand through his bangs, brushing a stray strand away from his eyes. “Shut up. It’s not like you’re not covered in dirt. Do we need to invest in a bird bath?”

The bird rolls his eyes and turns his head to stare up at the tower. “So. Do you have a plan?”

Edgeworth blanks. He was supposed to come up with one of those as he was walking, wasn’t he? He’d been so distracted by how crowded this place was… “I thought you’d have some information we could use.”

“You’re a really bad liar, but you almost got me there.” The phoenix preens his feathers as he gives the tower a once over. “If you could fly, we could go in through the top window.”

“Well, obviously, I can’t. So come up with a different plan. Are there any ground entrances? Secret passageways? Servant entrances?”

That seems to spark something in the phoenix’s memory, who jerks his head up so quickly that it scares Pess a little. “Yes! There is a servant entrance. Bottom floor. Only one problem- you don’t really scream servant. You definitely give I’m an assassin who’s been hired to kill you, this will be over quickly so don’t even try to escape vibes.”

“I do? I-” Edgeworth shakes his head. “That’s not the point, bird. How do I appear more convincing, then?”

The bird gives him a once over. “That's… hm. You’re going to have to ditch the armor, for one. Do you have anything work-casual?”

“I only bring one pair of clothes, bird.”

“Yeesh, we’re going to have to have a conversation about hygiene-”

“Be quiet! You’re going to get us found out.” Edgeworth puts a finger against his beak. The phoenix’s dark eyes stare right up at him apologetically. Edgeworth really doesn’t have the time for this. “Fine. I’ll ‘ditch the armor’, although I’ll need to find a way to bring in my sword.”

“I got it!” The phoenix whisper-yells. At least he listens. Sometimes. “We’ll get you an apron. Maybe you can pretend the sword’s a… rolling pin or something. Or a really large breadknife.”

“Funny. Where are we supposed to get an apron?”

The phoenix looks slightly amused. “I know it might offend your more knightly sensibilities, but we’re probably going to have to steal one.” He glances briefly at Pess. “Aw, do you think we can find Pess a chef hat? What do you say, Pess, are you more of a sous or pastry chef?”

Pess barks and happily pants in the bird’s direction. If he were any lower to the ground, Pess would probably jump on the chance to lick the top of his head. The damn bird is corrupting his sweet girl. 

“Sous chef. Now let’s find an apron, bird.”

…

They manage to snatch a apron hanging on a clothesline. It’s a joint effort- Pess as the lovable distraction, taking up all the attention of the street’s inhabitants. Edgeworth tries- and fails- to reach a clothesline for quite some time before the bird cuts in.

“I could fly up and get it,” he says, not without a hint of hope.

“Like you’d be able to get up there without injuring that wing anymore than you already have.” Edgeworth hopes the annoyed tone will mask the actual concern that he might be feeling. 

Whether the bird notices or not, he doesn’t point it out. “I’ll be fine. If you just hold your arm up and unwrap me, I should be able to make it that far up. Come on, Edgeworth. We need to get this disguise.”

Edgeworth rolls his eyes but he quickly undoes the series of bandages that Simon Blackquill had secured a few days earlier. The wing, as the phoenix splays it out, is unimaginably beautiful. Perhaps a bit unkempt, yes, but the startling colors shine in the light of a nearby window. And it’s certainly healed- Edgeworth notes accelerated recovery in the depths of his mind- because his form looks strong in a way that Edgeworth hasn’t seen since the first time they met and the phoenix plunged itself into the eye of a giant snake.

The bird quickly flies up and snatches the apron, then glides back down. It’s just a fleeting moment, but Edgeworth can swear he sees a glint of pure happiness in his eyes. Then they’re all running into an empty alley from a couple of angry magical citizens of the city, panting for breath the whole way. It’s all very silly and somewhat childish but Edgeworth can’t help a smile. 

It’s not long past midday when they walk up to the castle. Edgeworth feels bare without the metal plated armor, reduced down to a single, thin layer. He can’t send Pess inside with him, so Edgeworth sets his things in an empty alley and tells her to stay. She’s obviously disheartened but she’s always been such a good listener. Pess doesn’t move an inch as Edgeworth and the phoenix walk away.

The phoenix is now tucked under the apron, even closer to his skin. Even though he tries to refrain from burning Edgeworth, there’s an almost unpleasant amount of warmth pushed against his ribs. The phoenix, at least, seems just as uncomfortable as Edgeworth. They do what they can to hide Mitsurugi . Edgeworth resigns himself into hoping they move too quickly for anyone to call them out for an what's obviously a sharpened, battle-ready sword

For the most part, they walk in unnoticed. 

Every step is nerve racking. There are guards posted at every entranceway, every hallway. Even the kitchen, removed in almost every sense from the rest of the palace besides a single hallway, has three guards stationed inside. They, too, look less than half conscious. 

Mind control, Edgeworth decides. It must be. How powerful must Hawthorne be to control so many people in so many places at once? It sends a shudder down his spine- this must be how she has such a tight grip around a city that’s so terrified by her. 

Edgeworth only manages to escape the closed off kitchen by picking up a plate and bee-lining for the door. The guards follow him with their eyes as he exits but don’t make a move to tail him. Edgeworth counts it as a blessing.

As soon as he’s in a mostly empty hallway, he shoves the apron down and the bird bursts out from what must’ve been a very uncomfortable position. He even makes a show of hacking up a lung and looking at Edgeworth with a distraught expression. Edgeworth doesn’t buy it for a moment.

“Where to now?”

“Why do you think I know?”

Edgeworth puts a finger to his lips and speaks in a hushed tone. “You haven’t steered us wrong yet, have you?”

The bird sighs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Then- we need to go up. Dahlia is probably in that tower. So we’ll need to find some stairs.”

…

Edgeworth can only thank whatever gods must exist that the bird does know when to shut up when it’s important. All he does is nestle himself underneath Edgeworth’s stolen apron and peek out every once in a while to check for guards.

The whole palace is almost entirely vacant- compared to the kitchen teeming with guards, the stairwell is bare. As refreshing as it is to finally have something go right for a change, this sudden burst of luck makes Edgeworth uneasy.

Scaling the tower, Edgeworth finds that it pierces through the sky much higher than any other building in the citadel. He can see the tops of the Woods stretching on for miles. That, at least, was expected. This place was visible from nearly everywhere in the city. Vaguely, Edgeworth thinks of the vast stone castles and fortresses back home. The style and flagrant showcasing of wealth wrapped around the tower’s walls reminds him of the von Karma manor. Edgeworth unconsciously shivers.

When they exit from the spiraling stairwell, Edgeworth and the phoenix find themselves in a large, open room. Every wall is an open window framed by beautiful lace curtains. Gold and jewels are inset on every piece of furniture. But besides the expensive decorations, there is no one here. Including Dahlia Hawthorne.

Edgeworth puts a hand on Mitsurugi as the door slams behind him. A trap- he should have known better. If he was smart about this, he could still gain the upper hand.

The phoenix bursts his head out of the apron. “Edgeworth? She’s not here.”

“She will be,” he replies, running to one of the expansive windows. Having to make a drop from this height might just kill him. He’ll have to fight his way out instead. 

Edgeworth jerks away from the windows as they all close at once. Spirits, he hates magic. He whips around and draws Mitsurugi to meet the small yet imposing form of Dahlia Hawthorne. The bird makes itself scarce among the fabric.

She plays with a single strand of fire-red hair. “I see you’ve come to kill me.” The smile that adorns her face could be mistaken as sweet, maybe even kind, but the expression is marred by the still-healing scars that mar her cheekbones. The phoenix must have left from their last encounter. Any semblance of purity is ruined by the way that smile twists in horrible laughter. The sound echoes against the barren walls. “Hilarious. Watching you try is absolutely amusing.”

Edgeworth mouth twitches with contempt. “We made it this far, haven’t we?”

“Oh?” Hawthorne moves forward and with her follows that grotesque horde of snakes falling over one another to keep in time with her every step. “You only made it as far as I let you. Naïve fools.” 

While he’s frantically searching the room for an exit, Hawthorne continues to advance. “You think I would just let you in? I watched your every move- I guided you every step of the way!” And she’s right, isn’t she? The guards never moved an inch as they crept closer to their queen’s room- it was too easy. Far too easy. 

She glances down at Edgeworth’s chest and ferally grins. “After all, you have something I want.” As a last ditch effort to protect himself and the phoenix, Edgeworth draws his stance in defensively. Everything about this woman is predatory, like a monster on the hunt. There's not much for him to do but wait for her first blow. 

The snakes begin to curl and nip at Edgeworth’s boots. A few even start to climb his ankles, which shake far too much to hide. Terrified, he backs into a wall.

Dahlia Hawthorne continues to advance, her eyes like dark pits boring into Edgeworth’s mind. The hands he's wrapped around Mitsurugi tremble. “You will give me back what’s mine, whelp.” One of her dainty hands shoots forward to clutch at the front of the apron. Snakes pour in from all sides as she tears backward to reveal the frozen bird pressed against his chest.

His thoughts, even in his own head, sound distant, as if his mind is across a large open field. They’re screaming but barely legible over the sound of static creeping into his ears. Move. The bird. It’s over. Run.

The phoenix bursts out with unparalleled speed directly into Dahlia Hawthorne’s face. Despite all logic, despite the fact that Edgeworth knows that the bird barely weighs more than the feathers that adorn his body, the force sends her reeling backwards with an expression of complete disgust.

“ You-”  she hisses as she tries to regain her footing. Edgeworth grips Mitsurugi tighter. “You will pay for that, Feenie.” Dahlia Hawthorne rushes the both of them again but this time they’re prepared.

Everything about the way they fight together is uncoordinated and sloppy. Edgeworth and the phoenix are attached by an unrelenting metal chain that tugs them both in unwanted directions. But it’s easier than a few days before when they were ambushed by Taka and Blackquill. Edgeworth tries to use the chain to his advantage, pulling it whenever he sees the bird get too close to the fae. That’s her goal, after all. Edgeworth is barely relevant to what Dahlia Hawthorne wants. He’s secondary to her getting her hands on the phoenix. 

Something about that ignites rage in Edgeworth’s mind. She will not be taking this bird. Not today.

Edgeworth parries another attempted grab and finds himself in a much better position than he had been in before. But that doesn’t stop her from drawing a small knife, cutting it through the air and just barely scraping the edge against his cheek. It stings but doesn’t really hurt. Thank the spirts for adrenaline.

Her magic starts to wane as the previously shut windows are starting to peek open again. Edgeworth realizes now he’s closer to the door than she is. He’ll be able to make a run for it if he can just-

His breath catches in his throat when he feels one of the snakes bite his hand, fangs becoming nestled deep into his palm. The pain starts sharp like a knife but both surprisingly and worryingly it numbs, the feeling in Edgeworth’s hand fading within seconds.

The phoenix screams.

Right. Venom. 

Edgeworth grits his teeth and looks up at the bird. He's still attached. Every flustered movement the bird makes tugs against the chain wrapped around his left hand. He can’t move. He can’t escape. Dahlia has guaranteed their capture. Perhaps something even worse awaits the both of them.

Edgeworth drops to a knee as the snakes circle in. The chain is taut. The phoenix is in a state of panic. Mitsurugi is still in his right hand.

The decision is near instantaneous. Edgeworth rears Mitsurugi back, laying his left arm on the ground, and using all the force he can muster with his right he brings it down into the center of the chain-link.

It breaks. Almost cleanly.

The phoenix is thrown across the room due to the built-up tension of the chain snapping so suddenly. Mitsurugi drops to the floor. Dahlia Hawthorne watches with wide, panic-ridden eyes. 

The bird’s dark eyes are hesitant, but there’s no time for that. “Go!” Edgeworth yells. “Leave! Get out of here!” 

Hawthorne screeches in horror as the bird pivots on its large and beautiful wings towards the open window. She tries to run after him, “Get back here, Feenie! Come back!”

Opalescent, brilliantly vermillion feathers spread further and further as he takes off into a clear blue sky.

He soars.

But Edgeworth is still there. 

He’s losing feeling in his left arm and blood is running down his face. He might be dying. How long does he have?

Betrayal starts to build up, simmering like the beginning of a fire. The bird is gone- but he had told the bird to go. Screamed at him to do so. So why does Edgeworth feel so upset? 

Dahlia turns back to sneer at Edgeworth’s body crumpled on the ground. “You insolent fool. How dare you!” She picks him off the ground by his lapel and glares directly into his eyes. He glances past her.

Edgeworth surges forward with more energy than he has and bolts, his eyes never leaving the baby blue sky beyond the window.

He can’t fly. Edgeworth is no bird. But the feeling of free fall is heavenly compared to whatever Dahlia plans for him. So he pushes himself out the window and into the open air.

Edgeworth is unconscious before he hits the ground.

Chapter Text

Edgeworth wakes up to a cold, wet feeling on his face.

He doesn’t open his eyes at first. There’s so much pain- it’s creeping up his spine and into his head. That fall must have broken something. But most worrying is the numb feeling spreading through his shoulder. How much longer until it reaches his heart? His brain? Edgeworth wouldn’t survive that. His death is inevitable.

Eventually though, the strange sensation on his cheek is too much to handle. He opens his eyes to a close up of Pess’ long white nose.

Pess. Edgeworth smiles. At least she’ll be here at the end…

On the ground, gasping for air, he struggles to lift his hand up to rest on Pess’ head. He can still feel her silky fur with his right hand, at least. Every breath is a labor. All he can do is stare soulfully at Pess’ sad eyes and focus on the sensation of her fur against his fingers.

“Uh, hey? You alive down there?”

Edgeworth groans, tilting his head to look around Pess at the unexpected form of a man approaching him. It’s hard to properly make him out but he doesn’t look like a guard or a snake at first glance.

The man also isn’t wearing a shirt. It’s not a bad view, either. Edgeworth quickly turns his head away. Not the time.

“Yes, I’m alive. But probably not for much longer.”

The man kneels down to look at Edgeworth closely. His chest is just… right there above Edgeworth, isn’t it? “You got bitten, didn’t you…? We need to get you out of here. Come on…” The man’s warm arms wrap around his body to carry him and Edgeworth is done for.

“Who the hell are you?” Edgeworth asks, maybe harsher than he intends to. He feels bad. He doesn’t want to scare the man away.

“Uh. You can call me Wright. Like- the uh, direction? I guess? But spelled differently.”

Oh good, he’s horribly awkward. If he wasn’t, Edgeworth would be truly out of luck. “Alright, Wright. If you have any wonderful ideas, I suggest you share them.”

“Yeah, yeah, got it,” Wright says as he struggles to lift Edgeworth off the ground. Realizing that he can still feel his legs, Edgeworth tries to twist himself out of the man’s reach to stand on his own. Wright doesn’t appreciate the movement. “Hey, woah! Calm down!”

Edgeworth places his feet on the ground, feeling sluggish. “I can walk just fine,” he says and ignores the bursting pain all throughout his legs. Now he can properly study Wright- the man’s shorter than he is, but not by much. Black, spiky hair frames matching dark eyes and there is absolutely no shirt in sight. Edgeworth grimaces. From the concerned look on Wright’s face, it passes as pain. “Just tell me where to go.”

Wright nods. “There’s a place not far from here. I have friends who will be able to help you. Dahlia won’t be able to find you there.”

Still trying to find his bearings, Edgeworth freezes. Of course. He should have known better. A strange man offering help in the middle of an enemy city? How else would he know about who Edgeworth’s escaping? He must be working for Dahlia Hawthorne. Edgeworth goes to draw Mitsurugi but finds the spot where its hilt usually rests empty.

Right. It’s still in the tower. He looks up at the distant window he fell out of, however long ago that was. How much longer until Hawthorne starts looking for his corpse?

Wright must sense Edgeworth’s sudden hesitation. “Oh- I’m not working with her. Seriously- I want to help you. I know you’re working against her. My friends will help with that, too.”

He seems genuine enough. But Edgeworth’s had a rough day- he’s not going to just buy it. “You’re fae, aren’t you? She controls you.”

“I’m human. Not magical at all.”

He was lying. This man was brimming with magic far beyond anything he had ever known before, a screaming pitch that drowns out the already loud surroundings he’s trying to ignore. It was different from the faes, which was closer to a gentle hum, while this roared like a wildfire in the dry season. A headache starts to pierce his skull with fervor. He’s an idiot, Edgeworth reminds himself. But why tell such a blatant lie? Did he think Edgeworth wouldn’t notice all that? Edgeworth’s lip curls with oncoming anger. What did this stranger want from him?

Pess noses at Edgeworth’s numb arm. He can’t feel it. There’s no choice, is there? If this man can save him- then he has to follow. At least there’s a chance he’ll survive. Even if he was highly suspicious.

“Please, Edgeworth. We have to get you out of here. You don’t have much time.” He seems… sincere.

“Fine,” Edgeworth grunts. “Might as well.”

Wright smiles brightly. It’s almost endearing. “Great! Then let’s get going- before your legs don’t work anymore.” Edgeworth glares as Wright chuckles to himself. He’s just met the man and he already cannot wait to get rid of him. Except that is more than a slight lie.

Suddenly a thought occurs to him. “My things,” Edgeworth mutters. If Pess is here, where are supplies?

Wright scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, uh, your dog actually-“ He stops and points sheepishly at what is, in fact, a pile of Edgeworth’s clothes and small arsenal of weapons. “She brought them. She must be… really smart.”

Even though it’s ludicrous, Edgeworth doesn’t push on it. What he does do is quickly sift through his things to grab the cloak he had hidden before in order to throw it at Wright. “Put this on. We don’t need any more attention than necessary.”

“What, am I distracting?” Wright grins.

“I do believe I’m dying, Wright,” Edgeworth grumbles as he takes off the bloodied apron he’s been wearing. It isn’t easy with one working arm. “So if you’d hurry along.” 

“Got it, got it.”  The man throws the cloak around his shoulders, covering what was most definitely distracting only slightly, and doesn’t wait to start running into a nearby alleyway. Edgeworth has no choice but to follow, searching the calm blue sky as he does. It’s empty.

…

The house they arrive at is small, tucked into the side of a narrow street. Hawthorne’s tower is still visible, high above the rest of the buildings, but it’s far enough away to not be a threat anymore. Edgeworth’s arm is dead on his side.

Wright walks up to the door and knocks, glancing back at Edgeworth. Wright must be the sentimental type who cares too much for people he’s just met. It’s a fool’s bargain. How he’s managed to get this far into the fae’s city alive is beyond Edgeworth.

The door peeks open slightly, just barely enough for the soft glow of light to shine through the gap. Edgeworth can make out the shadow of what must be someone’s face. Wright talks with them quietly, not that Edgeworth cares to listen. Running through the city’s back alleys have made his legs scream with pain. It’s hard to focus on anything else. 

“What are you wearing?” The woman says harshly. Edgeworth barely hears over the ringing in his ears.

Wright glances down at the cloak he’s haphazardly draped across his back. Edgeworth’s cloak. It looks nice on him, he thinks vaguely. “Well, not much,” Wright says with a sheepish grin.

After some soft whisper-yelling, Wright turns around to grab Edgeworth’s arm and pull him inside. He hadn’t realized how disoriented he was- his vision swims as he moves forward, every step sending his world spinning. Perhaps Wright was kind enough to take Edgeworth somewhere quiet to die with Pess by his side. Edgeworth can’t help but feel comforted by that thought.

Edgeworth practically falls limp against Wright’s shoulder as they stumble inside the warmly lit house. There’s a vague shape that Edgeworth guesses is a woman tucked in the corner of the room, watching them as they come in. She’s certainly magical- he can hear the faint hum of power. That scares Edgeworth. She must be more powerful than the other creatures in this city if he can feel it even now. And from the faint lines on her face, she appears to be frowning.

They move him together onto a low bed. Pess follows, laying her head across his legs. Everything feels hot- Edgeworth’s clothes are clinging to his body. And yet he’s shivering- awful, this is awful. Wright and the woman talk in hushed tones. Can’t they just leave him to die already?

It’s close to being bedridden with a fever. Edgeworth’s head is everywhere but where it should be- 

Seconds, minutes, hours later, Wright comes back with a small glass vial. Edgeworth takes it almost instantly, pressing it to his lips. His throat is so dry, how did he not notice it? Whatever’s in the bottle is somewhat salty. Yet the moment it hits the back of his throat, the buzzing in his ears clear. He blinks a few times and suddenly he isn’t dying.

What… was that?

“Magical, huh?” Wright chirps as he kneels next to the bed.

“What did you give me?” Edgeworth says, voice still hoarse.

Wright puts a finger to his lips with a wink. “Trade secret.” Edgeworth rolls his eyes. “But seriously- how are you doing? That should’ve helped the whole poisoning thing, but it’ll take some time to kick in completely.”

“I feel fine.” Edgeworth tries to sit up, his head still spinning. “What was that? Unicorn’s blood?”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you that was close?”

Edgeworth hopes the glare he's currently wearing is clearly the ‘hell no’ it’s meant to be.

It does, at least, make Wright seem a little remorseful. “I can’t tell you. Sorry. Mia was already mad I gave it to you in the first place.”

The name sounds familiar. “The fae woman. What, she doesn’t like humans?”

“No. Just you, I think. Do you know her?”

Edgeworth opens his mouth to answer but quickly shuts it and remembers where he is. Why he almost just died in a strange house in a strange city with no one but his dog. Wright may appear human but his crackling magic was terrifying and contradictory. Mia- whoever she may be- is no ally. He is alone out here. Finally, regrettably, alone.

He tries to stand. That fails- he’s on the ground in seconds.

Pess whines and bumps her head against his shoulder. At least he can feel it. At least he has her. That’s all he has.

“…okay, you don’t have to tell me. But you don’t have to run away, either.” Wright comes from behind Edgeworth and lifts him off the floor. “Especially because you physically can’t. You can rest here until you're better, though. Then you can help us.”

“Help you?” Edgeworth sneers at the man’s dopey expression. “No. I need to leave. I’m not sure if you’re aware, traitor, but I’m likely a wanted criminal now-“

“That’s great, actually, because you’ve managed to find the one house in the city that welcomes criminals with open arms,” calls a voice from across the room.

Edgeworth whips his head up to meet the eyes of Mia Fey. She’s never been especially menacing- that hasn’t changed in the four years since he last saw her- but she holds herself like someone pretending to be important. What has changed is the rugged clothing she wears, the hardened look in her eyes. From a far off glance, she appears peasantly. The loose, faded clothing that hangs off her body is a far cry from Hawthorne’s silk masterpieces and padded armor the fae woman used to wear.

“Miles Edgeworth. It’s been a little while, hasn’t it?” 

“You do know each other!”

Both Edgeworth and Mia glare at Wright. He takes the hint and shuts up.

“It hadn’t been long enough. I was hoping I’d never have to see your face again.” Edgeworth sees a burning village on the edge of a cliffside, a small group of fae hiding in a house they don’t belong in. Mia Fey, that’s what she called herself then and that clearly hasn’t changed. Such a stupid name. It made finding her and throwing her out of that town easy. “Finally went back to where you belong, didn’t you?”

Mia Fey barks out a cynical laugh. It’s a far cry from the hopeful, naive idiot she used to be. “You’re just as pleasant as I remember. I hate that I’m going to have to ask for your help.”

What’s with people wanting my help lately? Edgeworth thinks back to Simon Blackquill and Athena. At least he liked Blackquill. But then he’s reminded of the chain still wrapped around his wrist, severed, and he realizes he’s failed. The bird is gone and he’s alone.

“What do you need me to do?”

Mia Fey seems taken aback, like she wasn’t expecting it. But Wright can’t hold back a smile. He nudges her on the shoulder gently with a sly expression as if he’s saying, see? Didn’t I tell you? 

Fey clears her throat, obviously trying to clear the shock. “Do you know about the magical children Dahlia’s been kidnapping from the Woods?” 

Perhaps this is more connected to Blackquill than Edgeworth originally thought. He nods, “did she take one of yours?”

Mia shakes her head, almost relieved. “Thank the spirits, no. But she shouldn’t have taken any to begin with. She’s a tyrant. We want her gone and those children back home. Safe.”

“Isn’t she your queen?”

“No. Not mine.” There’s something more there- a hatred Edgeworth doesn’t understand. It’s personal. Edgeworth doesn’t ask. “We should sit down. What I’m about to tell you- it’s a secret. The kind we shouldn’t even know, let alone you.” She looks to Wright. “Help him downstairs?” Mia Fey then walks over to a mostly empty wall and opens it, revealing a winding staircase leading underground. She disappears as she walks down.

Edgeworth had forgotten that he was still being supported by Wright. The man looks worse for wear- was he injured? He seems to favor one of his arms over the other when holding Edgeworth up. Despite how he winces in pain, Wright grins happily.

“I knew you would help us. Mia was a little hesitant- but I knew.”

“How?” Edgeworth rolls his eyes. “We just met. You don’t know me at all.”

Wright chuckles lightly as he leads the both of them to the door. It’s a pleasant sound. “No, not really. But I uh- saw you fall from the tower. I have no idea how you survived that, by the way. But I’m glad you did. Not just anyone would go and face Dahlia alone.”

“I wasn’t alone,” says Edgeworth without thinking. Remembering just makes him sad. Wright blinks, obviously confused, so Edgeworth changes the subject. “I found it necessary, anyways. She’s abhorrent. Kidnapping children? And yet she still rules over these people. Foolish.”

“It’s not like they have a choice,” Wright whispers as they descend the stairs. Pess whines but Edgeworth doesn’t pay it any attention. She doesn’t follow. “They want to be free. But Dahlia’s too powerful.”

Edgeworth can’t help it. He thinks of the bird. He wanted to be free too, didn’t he? Did he have a home? A family, waiting for him? Edgeworth has been pushing these thoughts away since he woke up- but it crashes into him like a wave. Because he was just like Dahlia, wasn’t he? Kidnapping the phoenix, holding him against his will.

For a purpose, von Karma would say. For a client who wanted him dearly and was willing to pay for the efforts. Monsters like that bird deserve whatever fate it would receive.

But what did Gavin even want him for? The phoenix had been kind, as well- too kind to Edgeworth, who had only hurt him and planned to give him away as a trophy. Edgeworth’s mouth tastes bitter, his stomach churning. He’d never looked at it this way before. Why now? 

The phoenix had been right to leave, Edgeworth realizes. He hadn’t really abandoned Edgeworth. He’d escaped him.

“Edgeworth. You can’t stop in the middle of a staircase, come on,” Wright urges, pulling him along.

Edgeworth doesn’t know how to feel when he’s brought into a dark room at the bottom of the stairwell. So he settles on not feeling anything at all.

…

Mia Fey lays out a large map the size of the table it’s sitting on. Although difficult to see clearly in the dull lamplight, Edgeworth can tell it’s a map of the fae citadel. He hadn’t realized how cramped it was- streets were narrow and houses were all clustered together to fit in as many fae and other magical creatures at once. Hawthorne’s tower, however, sits clearly in the center, visible from all corners of the city.

“Here,” Mia Fey says, pointing to a tiny dot on the paper, “is where we are. If you didn’t notice, Edgeworth, we’re currently underground. That’s one of the many hidden secrets surrounding our city: the catacombs that lie beneath it. Most of the people who live here don’t know that these underground tunnels exist. And this old house is connected directly to them.”

Edgeworth nods. It’s a surprisingly well thought out city plan, for a bunch of fae. “So we'll use this to sneak into Hawthorne’s palace?”

“Not quite. Our first priority is to rescue the children that Dahlia’s taken. The good thing is, we know exactly where they are.”

Wright, who’s sitting at the only chair pulled up to the table and playing with a frayed edge of the map, frowns. “They’re all in the tunnels. There’s a row of cells down there. That’s where Dahlia’s keeping them.” His eyes are cold and distant. Edgeworth guesses that knowledge is first-hand .

“So our plan is to get them out first, then go for Dahlia once we know they’re safe,” Mia Fey says solemnly, putting a hand on Wright’s shoulder. It seems to calm him down. “We have some other friends who are going to help. But we need everyone we can get.”

“These… these children are none of my concern. Besides- I don’t believe I should have to remind you of this, but I’m still recovering from being bitten by a venomous snake. How am I going to be any help?”

The fae woman sighs, rubbing her temple gently. “You have until we strike tomorrow to recover. And no one is forcing you into this. I, personally, would prefer you be nowhere near my people.” She glances at Wright with undisguised exasperation.

“…I’m willing to help. But I’m not in it to help you. I just want Dahlia Hawthorne gone.”

“That’s fine.” Mia Fey seems a bit more hopeful, sighing with relief and leaning against the table. It’s closer to the naive revolutionary that Edgeworth remembers. That’s… oddly comforting. “You and… and Wright will take a tunnel almost directly underneath Dahlia’s palace. You don’t have to help with the first part, but I’d rather not have him go alone.”

Unbidden mental images of the snakes make Edgeworth shiver. “Is that such a good idea? Having me so close to Hawthorne?”

“To be completely honest with you, Edgeworth,” Mia Fey says as she rolls up the map, “I’d rather you than someone I actually care about.”

Before Edgeworth can snap back, Wright stands between the two of them. “Hey, hey! Edgeworth agreed to help. That’s what’s important. Right?”

Hm. Strange. Ever since they met- mere hours ago- Wright has been sticking his neck out for Edgeworth. He’s far too… charming and kind to not have an ulterior motive. He just wants me to dethrone Dahlia. Not that I could. Edgeworth rubs his left palm absently with his fingers. What does he know anyways?

The fae sighs, nodding. Wright was willing to look past loyalty and side with Edgeworth. That was good to know. “And then after?”

“Afterwards, you’re free to go for Dahlia all you want. It might be in your favor- she’ll be too distracted by everything else going on to be expecting another attack from you.” Then Fey’s face hardens, her eyes going cold and dark as she sizes Edgeworth up. “I don’t want you to touch a single one of those kids.”

Edgeworth crosses his arms. “What do you think I’ll do to them?”

Mia Fey says nothing. Wright looks desperately between them, as if that might help cool the tensions rising between them. 

“Kill them, I suppose that’s what you’re insinuating. Except they’re not exactly innocent, are they? Innocent monsters. Hah. I’ll try to hold myself back,” he sneers. This fae woman was getting on his nerves. All about this righteous savior complex, wasn’t she? Didn’t she see what the true problem was here? Who she was? “But I make no promises.”

She storms off. Edgeworth doesn’t care. He turns to Wright, who looks somewhere between upset and disappointed.

“You’re not going to actually… hurt those kids, are you?” Wright won’t look up from the floor.

“No. Now listen to me, Wright- I don’t know why you think you know who I am,” Wright at least has the sense to look ashamed, “but I’m not some blessed savior that’s going to help you tomorrow because I believe in the good of all creatures. I left something precious to me in that tower and I want it back. And you people bow to this tyrannical queen who will stop at nothing to inflict pain. I’m here for her. If I happen to save a couple of demonic children on the way in, it doesn’t matter. If you’ll excuse me.” Edgeworth turns on his heel and speeds back up the stairs, ignoring the slight headache that must be left over from the poison.

Pess waits for him right at the door. He stops to pat her smooth head lovingly. Even though they can’t talk, Edgeworth feels as though they share a thought just then. Her large eyes speak of longing.

She misses the bird. So does he.

He plays with the chain still wrapped around his wrist as he walks over to the cot he spent most of the day laying in, sick. Without his cloak- the one Wright is still wearing- he feels cold. It’s not because he misses the bird’s warmth he grew accustomed to during those long nights. He never got used to it, anyways. The bird was always a temporary companion.

When he falls asleep, he has a horribly vivid nightmare. Edgeworth watches his father die over and over, something he never actually saw but imagines down to the most minute detail. Then he wakes up alone.

Chapter Text

Edgeworth shoots awake and he cannot breathe.

His eyes open and suddenly he’s clawing at his throat, tears threatening to run down his face. He’s cold, so cold. The sound of Pess scuttling across the wooden floor is distant. She’s right next to him and she’s miles away.

Taking every last drop of effort he can muster, Edgeworth pushes himself out of the bed and onto the floor. The sound mixed with the dull pain of hitting the ground allows him to take a startling breath in.

I’m still alive, he reminds himself.

Pess pushes her nose in his hair as he sobs.

It’s a miracle that neither Wright nor that fae woman decide to intervene. But the loneliness is more than a little daunting. He’s so cold. The sheets he grabs from the cot to wrap himself in are thin and freezing. He only keeps them because he pretends they bring comfort.

In order to revive any semblance of a routine, Edgeworth grabs his piles of things- the ones Wright had found for him, somehow, how did he know - and stumbles into what he assumes is the washroom. A roughly cut mirror hangs on the wall. Edgeworth is greeted by the ghost-like reflection of his own face, adorned with fading bruises and new scars. He traces the faint ridge of what used to be the cut Hawthorne gave him. Whatever he was given to stop the poison from killing him must have also sped up the healing of his wounds. The scar on his cheek looks years old. He received it only yesterday.

As he sorts through the supplies he had gotten back from Wright, he finds the tightly bound black leather book he’d practically forgotten about. Gavin’s book.

Edgeworth picks it up with trembling fingers. He hadn’t really touched it after he had found the bird. There was no point- all the information in the book was nothing more than a loose collection of folklore. It mentioned nothing of the phoenix’s sharp wit, fear of tyrannical faes or dark, hesitant eyes. It was clear that its author had never met the phoenix -and never would, thanks to Edgeworth’s stupidity. Perhaps he should burn the book. Or maybe give it to someone more competent, someone like Franziska, who never questioned the job. Who never doubted.

But then- would Franziska have let the bird survive long enough to know him the way Edgeworth did? She wouldn’t have tolerated his endless jabbering and light taunts. Edgeworth smiles at the memory. Such an idiotic bird.

Edgeworth continues to flip through the pages, silently critiquing the hypotheticals Gavin left. The drawings were wrong. The beak was too short and the feathers too blunt. When he closes his eyes, Edgeworth can still see the hypnotizing silhouette of the phoenix spreading his wings into a clear blue sky. He suddenly wishes that he had the ability to sketch what he’d seen from memory. Regrettably, Edgeworth had never been artistically talented.

Edgeworth snaps the book shut at the sounds of footsteps. He turns to meet the eyes of Wright, dozing off on his feet.

“What are you doing awake?” Wright asks. His voice gives away just how tired he is.

Perhaps because he is exhausted as well, Edgeworth doesn’t try to be too harsh. “Can’t sleep. I might as well start the day.” He hopes Wright won’t point out the fact that the day hasn’t even begun, the sun still sunken beneath the horizon.

Just as Edgeworth tries to tuck it away, Wright’s eyes find the book. “What’s that?” 

“…a journal. Obviously.” He holds it close to his chest.

Wright’s interest only grows. “Is it about you? Do you record your adventures? Can I look in there and see all of the things you’ve done? Every place you’ve ever been?”

“No. It’s- it’s not about me,” Edgeworth mumbles, then scowls. This is embarrassing. But he looks up at Wright, into his oddly kind and searching eyes, and sees no malice. He’s… curious.

What harm could it do? The bird was gone. Wright could do nothing with the little information this book contained. But perhaps… if Wright knew anything…

Edgeworth slowly extends the book towards Wright. “It’s a collection of stories and information. Do you know what a phoenix is, Wright?”

The man stares vaguely at the book, then shakes his head and laughs. “Phoenixes don’t exist, Edgeworth. They’re just fairytales.”

Edgeworth isn’t convinced by his light tone, the way he glances out of the corner of his eye. “They do. Go ahead, read it.” Edgeworth waits until the man grasps it firmly between his two hands, then draws himself back. Wright looks at him, back down at the book, back up at him, and then finally opens the journal to a page full of writings and drawings. He stares down at it, taking mere moments to glance at each page. Then, abruptly, he slams it closed and shoves it back at Edgeworth.

“Can’t.”

“What?”

Wright looks almost ashamed. “Can’t read.”

Oh.

Edgeworth had forgotten- in the von Karma manor, nearly everyone knew how to read. Even the help were educated on a basic level- though mostly so they could be given written commands so von Karma would never have to speak to them directly. But outside of that life, being able to read wasn’t actually all that common. Most people had no use for it, or, that’s what von Karma would say. Edgeworth knew personally that many people on the outskirts of civilization simply never had the chance.

If Wright lived out here in the Woods, then Edgeworth could assume he grew up in one of those hidden-away villages where literacy was little more than a myth. Knowing all of that, Edgeworth gives a small nod and tries to smile in a reassuring way. “It’s alright,” he attempts to comfort, “that’s not a bad thing. The pictures aren’t half bad, you can look at them.”

Wright doesn’t seem amused by Edgeworth’s efforts. He simply stares at the floor.

“I could teach you,” Edgeworth says impulsively. That garners some attention- Wright immediately looks at him with something akin to hope.

“Are you sure? Mia tells me I’m a difficult student.”

“Nonsense- Fey must be a bad teacher if she blames this on you,” Edgeworth grumbles. That fae woman is starting to get on his nerves. “We can start with the basics. The man who wrote this certainly won’t make it easy on you- but you’ll master it in no time.”

Wright takes the book back with a slow and steady hand, turning it over several times. He traces the pattern carved into the leather with a single finger. “I can’t master something that quickly. It would take years to teach me that much. And I doubt you have the time for that.”

Right. Edgeworth was getting ahead of himself, wasn’t he? No one could learn over the course of a few days. But Edgeworth didn’t find himself deterred. “Then you’ll learn what you can in the time we have.”

That’s how Edgeworth finds himself sitting on the washroom floor beside Wright, painfully moving through each word. He was right- Gavin wrote in lavish and unnecessarily complicated sentences that even Edgeworth found grating. It isn’t kind to a learner like Wright. And yet Wright is persistent. Perhaps that is part of his charm. The behavior matches with what Edgeworth witnessed yesterday, when Edgeworth stubbornly kept poking the bear that is Mia Fey. Wright is patient in a loud and unforgiving kind of way. He decides repeatedly- and out loud, for Edgeworth to hear- that he won’t give up.

Maybe it’s because Wright holds a secret passion for the subject. For someone who doesn’t believe in phoenixes, he vehemently insists that Edgeworth explains every sentence he can’t quite understand. And he would stare openly at the pictures, even though they were very plainly wrong, as though he were studying the beast himself.

Edgeworth wishes the bird were here so he could show Wright. He thinks the two of them would be friends. Both snappy and crass, yet also kind. Edgeworth imagines letting the phoenix perch on Wright’s arm, showing Wright how the phoenix soars through the air with unparalleled grace. He imagines Wright’s face, open and smiling, gleefully, telling Edgeworth that the phoenix is a wonderful creature. The phoenix would say something snarky back and they would all laugh together.

Edgeworth has a feeling that if he ever found the phoenix again, that bird would fly freely the very same day, regardless of chains or Gavin or von Karma or his vendetta against magical creatures.

Because if something so bad could make Wright so happy and passionate, could it really be bad at all?

Edgeworth blinks, and pulls himself out of his head, back into reality. What was that?

He had met Wright yesterday. They knew absolutely nothing about each other- there was no basis for any sort of trust- Wright seemed to know more than he let on, which was unnerving- he had even lied about being human- how could he possibly trust him?

“What does this one say? I can read something about ‘feathers’, but…” Wright squints down at the paper. It’s endearing. It’s inane.

Edgeworth takes a breath. “It’s about the black feathers on the underside of a phoenix’s wings,” he says in the most impassive voice he can muster. “This claims it’s an easy identifier for the species, although they’re also rumored to have more magical properties. Gavin doesn’t go into any more detail than that.”

Next to him, Wright goes still. “That’s… hm. Well,” he says, looking thoughtful. Behind those dark eyes is something hidden- a thought that he doesn’t want Edgeworth to uncover. Before Edgeworth can call him out for it, Wright shrugs and moves on. “That’s neat.” Then he pauses, looking a bit hesitant, before he continues. “Hey Edgeworth?”

Edgeworth hums as a response. Wright takes that as a sign to continue. “You seem like a pretty solitary guy. You’re not big on helping people out, I mean. So why… why exactly are you helping us?”

As Edgeworth tries to come up with a convincing lie, he realizes he doesn’t actually know the truth he’s trying to hide. He wanted to take down Hawthorne, obviously. That was believable of him- he hated corrupt creatures. But why not let these magical beasts suffer? He hated them too. Well, he wanted Mitsurugi back. His father’s sword- how could he leave that behind? But that wasn’t all it was, either. 

He rubs the thin pages of the book between his fingers as it comes to him. Perhaps… perhaps with Dahlia Hawthorne out of the way, the phoenix would be safe from one more horrible thing after him. Maybe he would feel safe enough to look for Edgeworth and-

It’s a wrong thought. But one that brings Edgeworth comfort. 

“My sword,” he mutters at last. “It’s important to me.” 

Wright looks at him thoughtfully, like he knows it's only a half-truth. It’s silent for a long moment, then Wright scratches the back of his neck with a nervous smile. “Well, uh… thanks for reading with me. It was really nice.”

Edgeworth watches with narrow eyes as Wright leaves the washroom with a bounce in his step. That man knows more than he lets on. And Edgeworth is going to discover exactly what he knew.

…

Perhaps- if you felt so inclined- you could label his actions as stalking. Edgeworth wouldn’t go that far. After all, Edgeworth can’t help that they’re both cramped into a tiny house awaiting at Mia Fey’s beck and call. It’s not like he has much else to focus on except Wright, who has made it his personal mission to become increasingly awkward around Edgeworth and avoid any further conversation.

Normally, Edgeworth would appreciate that. He likes his solitude. But Wright is hiding something. Something that has to do with the phoenix. Other things, too. But this takes precedence.

It’s obvious, now. How did Edgeworth not catch on sooner? Wright’s interest in the book, his sudden nervous disposition after reading it, how he knew so much about Edgeworth in the first place. He must be after the phoenix too. It doesn’t explain why he works with the fae woman or what he has to gain from saving these children. But what it does explain is why he saved Edgeworth in the first place, a question that had been bothering Edgeworth since the beginning. Wright must have been hoping he would lead him straight to the bird.

All Edgeworth is missing is the why. Why does Wright want the phoenix? He seems genuine, but was clearly a compulsive liar when the truth didn’t suit his needs. No one is out in the Woods looking for something because they’re curious. Theis place wais too dangerous to be taken so lightly.

So Edgeworth resorts to sneaking glances at Wright from afar. Perhaps if he stares long enough, he’ll figure Wright out completely. No more mysteries, he thinks as he watches Wright prepare food in a small room just across from Edgeworth’s little bed. I’ll discover your secrets.

Wright accidentally cuts his finger while chopping vegetables and sticks it in his mouth. It’s… it’s getting hard to take him seriously, especially when his bare chest is still peaking out from behind the cloak. Distracting. Edgeworth sighs and wills himself to look away- there must be something he’s missing.

He’s so focused that he practically jumps when the door slams open.

Without Mitsurugi, Edgeworth takes a moment longer than he should to react properly. But it still only takes a few seconds to draw out a dagger from his bootstrap and hold it in his gloved hand.

Then he looks at his attacker. It’s… a girl. A small girl. She looks back at him with appraising eyes, then any sense of danger melts away as she laughs.

“Nick, who’s this? I didn’t know we had enough money to hire an assassin!” The young woman who burst into the home- magic, the sound of it singing sweetly in Edgeworth’s ear- smiles brightly at Wright, a glint of mischief in her eyes. Her outfit suggests she’s an acolyte, head to toe in robes and decorated with all types of colorful stone jewelry. Upon closer inspection, however, Edgeworth notices that every bow is tied a little too loosely and every clay bracelet is a little misshapen, as if she had made them herself.

Wright smiles back nervously. “Maya. I didn't know you were coming today.”

The girl- Maya- grins even wider. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here! This is wonderful- we can spend the solstice together!” Then she gets a better look at him and giggles even more. “Nick, what are you wearing? Where’s your shirt?”

“I’m trying something new,” he says dryly, pulling the cloak over his chest like he’s embarrassed. As if- Edgeworth hadn’t seen him even attempt to find any clothing other than the cloak he had given him yesterday. Wright had seemed perfectly content showing off up until this point.

The girl barrels into him, wrapping her arms around the obviously surprised man. “I honestly never thought I’d see you again, Nick,” Maya mutters lowly, like she was trying toprevent Edgeworth from hearing, although she clearly wasn’t successful. “After everything with Dahlia-”

Wright returns the hug, squeezing whatever Maya was about to say right out of her mind. “I’m fine now, Maya. I just had to go away for a little while.” She nods against his chest.

Dahlia Hawthorne. How did Wright play into this? Why did he have to leave? Edgeworth tries not to scowl as he watches them break from their embrace. If they are to take her down tonight- and Wright has history with her- how can they possibly trust him? Paired with this morning’s revelation about Wright and his knowledge of the phoenix, things are beginning to look more and more complicated. He’ll have to watch Wright closely from now on. He could be dangerous.

Edgeworth startles as Maya turns to him without warning and looks him up and down. “He’s kinda cute. But not really our style. Are you sure about him?” Now that he can see her clearly, Edgeworth can tell that she must be related to Mia Fey- they have nearly the same face. He didn’t know the fae woman had a sister. He didn’t know that faes could have siblings. Although now he doesn’t see why not.

Wright rolls his eyes and returns to cooking, turning away from Maya. “Edgeworth is fine, Maya. Don’t mess with him.” And that should be the end of it. But Maya’s eyes grow wide.

“Edgeworth?” Her smile turns to him. “Like Gregory Edgeworth?”

The world goes still. Edgeworth has to focus or else he’ll stop breathing. How…? 

She doesn’t notice the horrible sin she’s committed, deciding to grab on to Edgeworth’s arm and jump up and down. “That’s amazing! You must be his son, huh? That’s crazy! You know, I heard so many stories growing up-“

Wright, always out of the loop, tilts his head to the side. “You… know Edgeworth’s dad…?

“Who doesn’t!”

Edgeworth is floating. His feet are touching the floor but they’re not really , are they? How… how? What?

“He’s only the most famous human to have ever come into the woods! He’s a legend! He’s amazing! He’s-“

“Dead,” Edgeworth manages to say. “He’s dead.”

Maya goes silent, suddenly still. “Oh,” she whispers. “I mean, I knew that. But. I guess I forgot… since he’s your dad…” She looks to the floor. Even though he craves it, Edgeworth can’t manage to glare at her. She deserves it, though. How dare she.

“Wait… I’m still lost. How do you know Edgeworth’s dad, Maya?”

She takes a strand of her hand and plays with it in her hands. “I guess it was before your time, Nick. But he was…” she glances up at Edgeworth, as if asking permission. He doesn’t give her it. She continues anyway. “He helped the magical people of this forest. Before Dahlia was around… there were still problems. Evil monsters- but he went around and saved villages around the forest.”

“That means nothing,” spits Edgeworth. “Even if he did do those things- which I doubt- his actions mean very little now.”

“That’s not true! He saved my mother’s village! He saved my mom! Without him, I probably wouldn’t be here.”

Edgeworth sneers. “Ha. Did he really? Do you know more about my own father than I do?” Maya has the same petty insolence as her sister, he realizes. The same unruly flare that causes her to stick her nose into places she doesn’t belong.

“Maybe you aren’t his son, then, because I don’t know how anyone so mean could come from a guy like him!”

“Maya, that’s enough .” Wright’s tone is startlingly harsh. It’s enough to make the girl back down and look away.

Edgeworth grits his teeth and bares it. She’s right, isn’t she?

She’s right.

He turns and walks to sit on the bed just outside of the kitchen. Faintly, he can hear the whispers of Wright scolding Maya for being cruel. Edgeworth ignores them in favor of trying to pull out the few memories he has left of his father. There aren’t many. Honestly, Edgeworth had tried to forget after he had died. He didn’t need reminders of the life he had lost. Von Karma would supplement what little he remembered with stories of an average father who took barely care of his son. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to remember his father as a hero, the kind Maya says he was. No one has talked about Gregory Edgeworth like that for years.

Not out loud, anyways.

Edgeworth tries to remember his nights under the stars with his father. Were they camping outside a forgettable village or had they been sitting beneath the singing trees of the Woods? He can’t recall. 

He does remember his father taking him through villages, talking with the locals for hours. They had been happy people, hadn’t they? They always smiled at his father. They loved him. Was that because he had saved them from vicious beasts? Or simply because Gregory Edgeworth was a decent man who villagers would treat with polite hospitality?

He thinks of Mitsurugi , his father’s sword. Why would he carry a sword if not to defend himself from whatever monsters lie out in the woods? Perhaps to defend the creatures he didn’t just tolerate, but openly loved? Oh, but his father would never hurt a thing. Von Karma never mentioned his father by name but he made it very clear as to what he was. A cowardly pacifist who amounted to nothing because he let horrid monsters continue to terrorize the innocents. Yet Edgeworth, foolishly, continues to love him.

His mind spirals while Wright ceases speaking in hushed tones to an embarrassed fae girl.

“Um,” a soft voice mutters, earning Edgeworth’s attention. Maya stands just beside the bed he’s sitting on, glancing back at Wright behind her. “I’m sorry for calling you mean.”

Edgeworth spares her a single glance. He’s sure it isn’t very kind.

“I just- Gregory Edgeworth is a legend. Even if you are his kid… it’s not cool to talk about him like that-“ She’s cut off by Wright quickly elbowing her. With a yelp, she rubs at her side and sends a glare at the man. “But I guess,” she grumbles. “You’re allowed.”

It’s clear she’s at least making an effort. Edgeworth sighs, muttering more to himself than her, “you’re fine. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to start talking about my father after so long, I suppose.”

From the surprised looks on both of their faces, Wright and Maya must not have been anticipating for that to work. The fae girl grins, putting her hands on her hips. “I can totally make it up to you! We can go to the festival and get all the food you want!”

Yes, right. The festival. The faes love celebrating changes of the seasons, especially their beloved winter solstice. That would be right about now, wouldn’t it? Honestly, Edgeworth had forgotten all about it. Almost dying tends to take up your mind and time, he figures. 

The phoenix had mentioned it just a few days ago. That seems so long ago now.

But the mention of the festival makes Wright fidget. “I’m not sure, Maya. Edgeworth… might stick out in a crowd.” He’s right- being a human would single him out easily. Especially if Dahlia is still looking for him…

“Psh! Edgeworth’s been cramped in this tiny little house for like- I don’t know, days? He needs to experience the citadel life!”

Wright rolls his eyes. “You just want an excuse to go to the food stands,” he says as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Edgeworth chuckles under his breath at the sight. “We’re trying to keep a low profile, Maya. Tonight is really important. We don’t need a festival ruining that.”

Edgeworth nods. If Mia Fey’s plan goes as it’s supposed to, they’re supposed to go into the tunnels beneath the city tonight.

“Boo, Nick, you’re so boring,” Maya groans. “We can’t go out there for even a little bit? What if we disguise Edgeworth?”

As much as he’d hate to be drawn into yet another scheme, Edgeworth can’t deny that this festival could prove to be good reconnaissance. More than that- it would present an opportunity to gain more information on Wright. Maya seemed to know him well- enough to come up with a nickname, although that could mean a variety of things- perhaps Edgeworth could figure out what history he shared with Hawthorne. “Fine. I need to get out of this house anyways,” he says as he stands. Wright’s jaw drops to the floor. “Come on, Pess. It’s time to experience the… citadel life. ”

Pess bounds up to him just in time for Maya to say incredulously, “Nick, dude , you didn’t tell me he had a dog!”

…

The city streets are far more crowded than the first day Edgeworth arrived. Every alley was packed, wall to wall people , different sizes and species and it feels almost wrong.

But it’s also, somehow, charming.

Edgeworth has never liked loud noises or crowded rooms. That has not changed. It likely never will. But from the sidelines, watching people mingle in this way is like looking at a masterfully detailed painting. Every smile from start to finish, beginning at the barely noticeable quirk of the mouth. Every conversation all at once, too much to handle. 

Terrifying. Wrong. They’re all monsters. The magic is screaming in his ears.

Maya buys a strange dessert on a stick from a tall man with seven eyes and protruding fangs. He waves at Edgeworth when Maya hands him the sweet.

Edgeworth remembers being called to take care of one of his kind not three months before. He tries not to let his discomfort with the situation shine through.

He takes one bite and it is heavenly. The flavors melt in his mouth and light his tongue on fire in the best way possible. Edgeworth can’t help the small sound that escapes his mouth. It’s embarrassing, honestly- Wright stares at Edgeworth for a long time afterwards- but Edgeworth has been living off rations and whatever food he can manage to catch for the past few weeks. To say it’s an improvement is an understatement.

In order to remain out of sight, Maya Fey trudged out the most vibrant and flowy robe Edgeworth had ever seen. But it works. During a festival, the fae girl had explained, everyone wears their best and most colorful clothing. Every vendor sported gorgeous vests and coats. Groups of dancers float down the streets in dresses decorated in intricate patterns. In that way, Edgeworth blends in almost effortlessly in the gaudy clothing.

“It’s supposed to keep us all in good hopes,” Wright says when he catches Edgeworth staring at a particularly effervescent group of faes in starling shades of pink and green.. “Winter can be pretty rough for all of us. The color and good food is supposed to remind us there’s beauty in this season too.” But the man still wears Edgeworth’s dull red cloak. It’s a travesty compared to the rest of the street’s inhabitants- even Maya dons a beautiful purple robe. For someone who had apparently gone into hiding after some relation with Hawthorne, he stuck out in the crowd.

Maya leads them through every market square. There’s a sort of charm to it all with every creature being unexpectedly kind to the other. The fae children crowd around Pess everywhere she goes- she’s always been a favorite. She is especially happy through it all, tongue hanging out of her mouth and panting. Edgeworth lets himself smile at that. He had forgotten how lonely it can be, just the two of them. Edgeworth prefers it. But the bird had been an indicator that she missed being social. The festival is a rude awakening.

On the edges of this festival, however, were the remnants of a brutal regime. Snakes ran like rivers beneath their feet, making Edgeworth shudder. Almost lifeless guards were stationed around every street corner, a constant reminder of who was really in charge. Children watched them with fearful eyes. Their parents weren’t much better. Even at such a beautiful and joyous festival, Dahlia Hawthorne made herself known. 

It takes everything Edgeworth has to hold himself back as a guard snatches a child playing on the streets. His parents collapse to their knees on the stone-paved road, begging and pleading for their son’s life. It occurs to Edgeworth that this must be why Hawthorne abducts children and keeps them underground. Leverage. It keeps these people in line.

Edgeworth can only watch as the guards taunt the boy- spikes and scales poking out of his shirt sleeves- and, when they’ve grown bored of his crying, throw him on the ground. All anyone can do is gasp quietly to themselves and turn away as the guards laugh to themselves, a cruel and merciless sound. The tension keeping Edgeworth’s body taut doesn’t go away even as the crowd moves on. From the looks of quiet acceptance, Edgeworth guesses this wasn’t the first time something like this has occurred. 

When Wright decides to go up to a stand advertising fine wines, Edgeworth hangs back with the fae girl. At first he finds it immensely awkward, but then he realizes he can use this moment to his advantage.

Turning to the girl, he puts on his most approachable mask and attempts to come off as relaxed. “I’m curious- about Wright, that is. We’ve only just recently been acquainted but I would say we’ve gotten… quite close. I’m worried about him. What history does he have with Hawthorne?”

Maya Fey looks almost scandalized. She raises a finger to her mouth and shushes him. “You really can’t talk about this so openly out here, okay?” Then she studies his face intensely for a moment and grabs his wrist. “Let’s go somewhere more private. Nick can catch up with us later.” She drags him down a less populated alleyway while Edgeworth fends off any feelings of success. Now he just needs to listen.

“Look,” she begins after checking there’s no one close enough to hear. “I have a feeling Nick hasn’t told you about this because he’s honestly a little embarrassed. But since you’re… close , and it’s sort of important anyways, I’ll tell you. But you can’t tell him I told you, okay?! He’d get super mad at me! So this stays between us!”

Edgeworth nods solemnly. Like he would tell Wright about this investigation anyways.

“You already know that Dahlia’s sort of the worst, right? But she hasn’t been in power for all that long. She just suddenly appeared one day, out of the blue, and took everything over. No one says it out loud but everyone knows she did some pretty bad shit in order to do it.” She glances back around the corner at Wright, still talking with a vendor, and nervously twists a strand of hair around her finger. “Here’s the thing- and don’t get mad at Nick, he feels awful about it- he sort of… helped her. Take over the city, I mean.”

Edgeworth’s eyes snap up to find Wright in the crowd. He’s laughing at something the vendor must’ve said, holding a bottle of red wine. Athena, Blackquill, the phoenix, every wonderfully and infuriatingly kind person in this city, suffered because of him. He takes a staggered breath, “How?”

Looking at the very least apologetic, Maya shrugs. “He won’t tell me the details. But a long time ago, Mia came home with him one day. I knew who he was- he was pretty publicly Dahlia’s lover, but no one remembers him now. It’s been a long time. And Dahlia makes sure no one talks about him.” The sympathetic and sad demeanor she holds suddenly melts into a protective, fiery rage. “Don’t blame him for any of this. I don’t know how or why- but I know he blames himself enough as it is. That’s probably why he came back here in the first place. Dahlia wants him dead, but he wants to fix what he broke! So if you try to hurt him, you’re getting thrown out way before he does.” She jabs a finger at his chest and crosses her arms.

He never would have guessed. Wright? Allied with Dahlia? This morning he seemed so gentle, so kind. It must all be a ruse. It has to be.

“Hey, wait. Now that I have your attention, I have something I need to give you.” Maya Fey rummages through her robes while Edgeworth watches, confused. What could she possibly have?

She pulls out a small book, nothing more than a pocketbook or a diary. On the front of the book are small letters in a language Edgeworth doesn’t understand. But just beneath that-

His own name stares back at him on the bound red cover. Edgeworth. 

“This is my favorite book in the whole wide world. Dahlia bans these stories now- the ones about your father. But I think you need it more than me.” When placed in his hand, the book feels like a lead weight. “I wonder if you’re in it somewhere,” she whispers like a secret. In a way, it very much is.

Edgeworth holds it close to his chest. “I will protect this with my life.”

Maya Fey smiles. They walk out of the alley together, Edgeworth having a newfound appreciation for the girl. She’s not as annoyingly invasive as her sister. Perhaps a little too loud and strange for his tastes but not in any way monstrous.

Edgeworth keeps a neutral face when they meet up with Wright again. But some part of his face betrays his true feelings, because suddenly Wright’s eyes grow sad and distant. Edgeworth hates that. He should accept it- no need to get close to a conspirator of Hawthorne. Yet he wants to reach over and tell Wright there’s no need to be so upset. That it’s foolish, that he should smile again. Edgeworth tries to contain the disgust at himself that comes with those thoughts.

As they pass through the marketplace one last time, something catches Edgeworth’s eye.

The captured form of Mitsurugi stares back at him, immortalized in embroidered cloth.

Edgeworth thinks of the last act he’d ever accomplished with Mitsurugi. The chain, the one he still had wrapped around his wrist as a reminder, was given to him by Gavin with the promise of a near impenetrable tool. Nothing but the strongest of magic could split it, Edgeworth had been told. Not even the phoenix could do something so grand. And yet.

Edgeworth had brought Mitsurugi down with such might that it had shattered. Instantly.

He thinks back to other times he’d used it. While it didn’t kill with a single strike, the sword had always hit true. It hadn’t bounced off of that large viper’s scales- it pierced straight through its jaws. Mitsurugi swept through dozens upon dozens of snakes without fail. The chimeras, the golems, every monster had been taken down succinctly and swiftly. Perfectly.

His father had never taught him. Von Karma had given him lessons- few and far between. But Edgeworth had never really needed them, had he? Mitsurugi had been by his side since the beginning.

His father’s sword.

And he’s used it to murder .

He stops to look at it a little too long, so Wright puts a hand on his shoulder to bring him back into the present. “We have to get back to the house.”

Perhaps he shouldn’t have judged Wright too harshly. That would only make Edgeworth a hypocrite.

The hand on his shoulder doesn’t move. He should shrug it off- foolishly, he doesn’t.

…

Mia Fey is sitting at the table when they walk in. First, she glares at them with every angry bone in her body. Then she looks scandalized.

“ Why is Edgeworth wearing my robes? ” 

Edgeworth suddenly has the urge to lock himself in a room and burn the beautiful clothes he’s currently wearing. Of course they belong to her. 

Wright suddenly has something very important to do in the corner furthest away from the fae woman. Maya tries to do the same but doesn’t get far.

“Where have you been all day?” The tapping of Mia Fey’s foot reverberates in the small, empty house.

The sheepish grin on Maya’s face says it all. “Having a little fun?”

“We’re on the brink of staging a revolution- ”

“Come on, it’s the solstice! Sis, you can’t just stop me from-”

Edgeworth is suddenly pulled from the center of a budding fight by Wright’s warm hand. Once they’re tucked into a different corner of the house, away from the screaming, Wright gives him a little thumbs up. It’s not exactly reassuring.

“Look, I’m sorry about that. This happens all the time- but they’ll hug and make up before we even leave. They’re sisters, you know how it is.”

“Actually, yes, I do,” Edgeworth says, thinking of Franziska. He wonders if she’s missing him the way he’s missing her.

Wright laughs lightly. “You have one of those? Are they just as bad?”

“Oh, yes. Maybe even worse. She’s painfully competitive.”

“Then I guess I’m lucky I’m an only child.” Edgeworth almost believes him. But then Wright reaches down to pet Pess and he sees a sort of loneliness there, in those slightly shaking hands. Growing up with Fraziska had been hard- she wasn’t easy on him, even when he had been a grieving child- but at least he was never alone.

Wright’s demeanor tells the story of a different childhood. One spent on the edges of the Woods, with no one to teach him how to read and all the time in the world to crave company. He has it now, certainly: Mia and Maya Fey, who seem to adore and trust him like family. But they’d only met after Wright had become tied to Dahlia Hawthorne. How the Feys and Wright came to trust each other was still a mystery- as was why Wright had been drawn in by Hawthorne at all. Lover, Maya had said. What could Wright have possibly seen in that obsessive tyrant?

Who exactly was Wright?

“Well,” Wright cuts in, abruptly halting Edgeworth’s thoughts. “We should gather all our things. We’re going to have to leave soon. Dahlia’s not going to take herself down, yeah?”

Edgeworth nods, taking out the little book with his name engraved on the front to run his hand over the cover. “No. She won’t.”

…

The festival continues outside their little house, the street swelling with more and more beasts even as the sun lowers against the horizon. The Fey sisters' argument devolved from yelling into silent whispers, just as Wright said it would, ending with a tight hug between the two of them. Wright smiles and taps Edgeworth’s shoulder so he can look at the two of them embracing at their tiny kitchen table. Although it’s painfully forced, Edgeworth sneers at the sight. Wright laughs, soft and light, at the disgruntled look on his face.

They had prepared hours ago: Edgeworth went through the ritual-like process of donning his scuffed set of armor, arming himself with nearly a dozen hidden knives. Wright was a little more sparse when it came to his preparation, clearly expecting more stealth than confrontation. Mia Fey- a sister, a protector- had paired them together for a lot of reasons. She wanted Edgeworth to be the brute force standing in the way of any harm getting to Wright. She cares far too much for this man.

Edgeworth would do it, though. He realizes that as they read the tiny red book about his father together. Edgeworth had only taken it out to stare at soulfully, but Wright had given him an inquisitive look and then they were flipping through the recounted tales, shoulders pressed together. 

It was far more than Edgeworth had ever imagined. If this was true, his father was a hero. A legend. He deserved so much more than the horrible fate he’d been given. How could any magical creature track Gregory Edgeworth down to kill him? After all of the evil beasts he had defeated for this forest?

I wish it had been me , Edgeworth thought. It wasn’t the first time. My father would know how to save these people. I only know how to kill them. 

Wright liked to point at the pictures in the margins, grinning brightly. His eyes lit up as Edgeworth remembered along with the book, adding little details of what he recalled of his father. It was the first time in years that he wasn’t punished for speaking his father’s name. In fact, Wright outright encouraged it.

“You really were there, weren’t you?” Wright whispers as they read through a section about his father convincing a witch to let go of her control over a small town. “He seems like a wonderful man.”

“He was,” Edgeworth mutters. His mouth twitches as he fights a smile back. 

He likes Wright. He still doubts him- but he, unnecessarily and inconveniently, likes him. Edgeworth has spent most of his life getting very good at pushing these types of feelings down, but it’s hard to deny something so present and overwhelming.

So he decides- he’ll protect Wright from Hawthorne. Whatever he did before to help her won’t happen again, not if Edgeworth can help it. They’ll save these children and take down Hawthorne. And perhaps, afterward, Wright can share whatever he knows about the phoenix and they can find that bird together.

Then maybe Edgeworth can apologize. The bird deserves that much.

Edgeworth watches as magical creatures, fae and otherwise, file into their tiny house one by one, so many that Edgeworth’s ears buzz even now that he’s gotten accustomed to Wright’s constant noise. They glance at Edgeworth curiously, likely being able to tell he’s human. He wonders if they know who he actually is, if he’s hurt them personally. If he has, they don’t mention it.

Mia Fey talks them through the plan to descend into the catacombs. The others are given tunnels spread all throughout the space beneath the city, clusters of children to find and free. He and Wright will be almost directly beneath the palace itself, right below Hawthorne. He has known that already. But now it was less of a burden and more of a choice.

The tunnels are eerily quiet when they creep down them, save for the muffled joy of townspeople above.

Between the duo, they have a single torch that barely lights up two feet in front of them. Wright assured he knew where he was going but Edgeworth could see the dread in his eyes. Being just underneath a lively festival, cramped by carved-out and ancient walls, and hearing distant footsteps echo against every surface? It was a recipe for fear.

Pess stays between the two of them, quietly whimpering and pressing her wet nose against their legs. Edgeworth understands her- they’re used to sleeping under an open sky. This is the opposite- claustrophobic, cramped and crushing. 

Wright chuckles with barely hidden paranoia. “Do you think we’ll be down here long enough to run out of air?”

“Of course not,” Edgeworth whispers back. “We’ll be fine.” Comfort doesn’t come naturally to him but he tries anyway. Pess thankfully picks up where Edgeworth leaves off, knocking her head against Wright’s knee. 

Of course, things are not fine. It’s starting to become a pattern.

A distant sound echoes against the walls. It’s wrong, so wrong, and Edgeworth freezes in place. Snakes. He can barely take in a shuddering breath. “Faster,” he urges Wright. “We need to go.” Wright nods and then they’re running.

Perhaps Edgeworth should make it a policy to assume things will always go very wrong, very quickly- if the last few days are anything to go on, at least. He could have sworn that his luck used to be much better. He might have even said that luck was a figment of the imagination, something the superstitious made up to make themselves feel better with their unfortunate lives.

Call Edgeworth superstitious, then. Being chased in the dark by creatures he cannot see, only known by the distant sound of their approach, definitely changes one’s opinion on luck.

They have to be near the children, if the snakes are chasing them already. They have to be. But at this pace- with what he knows the speed of the snakes to be- they won’t make it. They could never make it.

Edgeworth stops, skidding against the packed dirt floor. Wright turns around, breathing heavily. “Come on, Edgeworth! What are you doing?!”

Edgeworth draws two of the knives he’d tucked in his boots. That only enrages Wright further.

“Don’t be stupid, come on!” He’s too far away to see, but Edgeworth can guess there’s desperation in his wide, searching eyes. “We’re almost there!” Pess barks sharply.

“You know where they are. Find them. I’ll find you later.” He knows he won’t be able to convince them. There isn’t the time for that. So he pivots towards the snakes and runs.

“ Edgeworth! I’m not going to just leave you…!”

Wright’s voice fades as he bolts down the corridor. This is a stupid plan. A stupid, stupid plan that no one asked him to do. And yet Edgeworth does it anyway. He’s suddenly knee-deep in a flood of snakes, his body seizing him and his breath going rapid. Wright doesn’t appear next to him.

Good. He’ll get there soon. His armor should be enough to defend himself against the piling snakes winding up his legs. Edgeworth meant it- he’s going to meet him again. But he was done doing things for himself. Distracting the snakes was definitely an unnecessary plan, but it would buy Wright some time.

He’s shaking snakes off his leg when there’s a sudden tension on the armor on his back. He barely has time to register it before he is pulled up and off the floor, knives dropping from his hands, suddenly thrust up into the ceiling with a dull thud that echoes through his bones. 

Chapter Text

Edgeworth has been in an array of precarious and dangerous situations. He’s learned that it's better to expect a surprise than to be caught unawares by being complacent. That means that while he’s never been magically thrown and attached to a cave ceiling before, it doesn’t shock him. It was bound to happen. Actually, if there wasn’t so much fear lodged in the back of his throat, he would probably laugh. 

It gets stranger, though. Soon, he’s joined by the multitude of snakes, all floating and pinned against the ceiling beside him. Edgeworth tries to wriggle to avoid them but it's immensely hard to move when magic is keeping your arms and legs still. But it goes both ways- the snakes can only hiss and barely wriggle, too little movement to do any harm to Edgeworth.

At least Wright will be safe. Him and Pess won’t have to worry about these… monsters. He tries to pry his arm off the cold and rough surface of the ceiling but finds he can only manage to wiggle his fingers. But I doubt I’ll be able to meet them, stuck like this. Edgeworth blinks rapidly as he stares down at the floor below. If he is being held up by magic- who is the one controlling it?

He would get his answer as his limbs start to peel off the ceiling and his body comes falling hard towards the ground.

His arms and legs draw together, expecting a rather harsh impact, but are caught just before he hits. Impossibly, Edgeworth hovers mere inches from the ground, close enough to see pebbles and grains of sand in the cracks and crevices.

“You’re- heavy!” comes a small and somewhat shrill voice. Edgeworth has barely enough time to look up to see who’s talking when he drops the remaining few inches, hitting with a smack. He groans- falling was becoming more and more of an issue now, wasn’t it? He dreads the inevitable nightmares that would spawn from the last few days. But he doesn’t have a moment to ponder any of that. Remember where you are.

Edgeworth picks himself off the ground with a groan, propping himself up on his arms to look at his… attacker? Technically, whoever had thrown him into the ceiling had gotten rid of the snakes and had saved him from plummeting into the promise of a broken nose or shoulder. That wasn’t antagonistic. Expect the unexpected, Miles. He looks up.

There’s- a girl. Young, but not nearly as young as Athena was, with dark hair pulled back high on her head. Her face is scrunched up in deep concentration, a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead. Her hands are extended into the air as if she was holding the snakes up with mere strength. She speaks through gritted teeth, “Are you gonna move or what? Sorry for dropping you but if you don’t want all those annoying little worms to fall on your head, I would definitely move!”

Edgeworth pushes himself back to his feet and stumbles away, watching the girl close her fingers into a clenched fist. In time with her movements, the rock surface above them swallows the snakes whole until there’s no trace of them left. Expect the- oh, to hell with it. A young child, bending the earth to her will. He turns to her, mouth hanging wide open.

She meets him with a grin. It is then he realizes: all this time among magical beasts, he could usually sense their presence. It would typically sing loud in his ears, a high pitched scream, that only grew louder the more magical creatures he was around. He had seen her use the magic- could even feel it circling her hands- and yet she is quiet.

“What- are you?"

Her smile grows, like she’d been waiting for this question to be asked. She fixes her clothes, adjusting the scarf wrapped around her neck and the tattered skirt around her knees, places her hands on her hips and puffs out her chest. “Even in the depths of night, when no other bird dares to take flight, one alone soars to shine-”

“No, no, I don’t need a speech,” Edgeworth cuts in, letting his voice drop into something commanding. She is a child- she would listen to a figure of authority, certainly. “What kind of creature are you? A one word answer will suffice. Two, even, if just one won’t cover it.”

The girl’s face falls. Clearly frustrated, she kicks the ground with her foot. “I was about to get to that- I’m the fabled Yatagarasu! And I’m here to steal the truth of this horrible tyrant, save these children and-”

“Yatagarasu? But you’re not a bird.” Edgeworth cocks his head, looking her up and down. Yatagarasus weren’t very common in the Woods, especially not in recent years, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t run into one here and there. The three-legged ravens generally stayed out of his way except for the odd occasion where a Yatagarasu was traveling with a band of miscreants. They were guides, guarding their friends with close loyalty and ferocity. The girl seemed to fit the bill, all except the fact that Yatagarasus were birds. Or at least bird-like. 

“Well- fine. Half-Yatagarasu. On my dad’s side- but that doesn’t mean I can’t still kick your butt if you’re helping Dahlia!”

“Considering what you just saved me from, I will take that threat seriously. But think about it: would I really be working with Dahlia if she had sent those creatures after me?” A half-breed. An event even rarer than a sighting of the guiding birds, species almost never mixed in such a… palpable way. Perhaps in such a diverse city like the fae citadel, this was a more common occurrence. But then- what else was she? She looked somewhat fae- but more convincingly and startlingly human. Was that possible? What horrible things would lead to a half-human, half-magical child? That would explain the hiding of the magic…

“Oh, yeah,” she says lightly, the frustration seeping away from her face to make way for a brightened sense of optimism. “Then you can help me save everyone! This is awesome, I managed to find the best person possible!” With a flourished twirl, she quickly grabs Edgeworth by the sleeve and yanks him down the dark corridor. He stumbles a bit on his feet, surprised how fast her much shorter legs carried them until he notices the subtle hum of magic that enveloped her feet. 

Fascinating, he thinks as they flee down the winding tunnel. She’s far too talented for her age.

Sensing his confusion, she looks back at him with a face full of glee. “Cool, right? I like to say I’m a witch in training. Except I’m not a witch, of course, I’m the best Yatagarasu that ever was! Or, will be. One day. I’m not there yet! For now, you can just call me Kay, but soon you’ll have to call me the Great Yatagarasu!”

Kay. As much as he loathes to admit it, Edgeworth didn’t hate children. While maybe a little grating on the ears, her enthusiastic yelling and practically useless thought-to-speech filter made the dark tunnel a touch lighter. After living such a solitary life, contrasted with the constant companionship he’s had over the past few weeks, Edgeworth realizes how lonely he’d really been. As much as he’d hated that bird at first, the impact he had on Edgeworth’s outlook was startling. Hadn’t I once feared that? Being swayed by that idiotic bird? 

“Miles Edgeworth,” he replies with a small nod. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kay.” And he means it. “Now, I hope you have an idea as to where we’re going?”

Her grin is enough of an answer as any. As they navigate through the seemingly endless catacombs, Edgeworth’s mind wanders to something he’s been avoiding: what happens after?

How could he possibly go home now?

…

Kay does not know where they’re going, that much is obvious. At least, she doesn’t know for certain. Her eyes flit around the featureless cavern walls and Edgeworth longs for the flickering light of the lantern that Wright had taken with him. He hopes that wherever they are, Pess is keeping the both of them on the right track.

“It’s hard to navigate using just magic, okay? Finding a source from so far away is very difficult,” Kay grumbles after they've realized they’ve been going in circles. “This was easier when the phoenix was here.” 

Edgeworth perks up- at last, a development down here that matters. “The phoenix? He was here? You could tell?"

Kay chuckles, her shoulders shaking. “Anyone could- it’s hard to hide a phoenix. They are way super loud . He was down here for months, a couple of years ago. Me and my dad would come down here to try to see him before…” It takes Edgeworth a moment to realize Kay stopped walking a few paces back, her eyes trained on the ground. Her voice begins to wobble and break with every breath. “The bird would sing, sometimes. It was so sad. My dad wanted to find it and free the truth of that bird. But then I… I lost dad, and a few months after that, the phoenix was gone.” She plays with the hem of her shirt and Edgeworth can tell, even in the dark, that she is trying not to cry.

“...I lost my father too.”

Her head shot up to look at him with wide, wet eyes. “I miss him. A lot. Even though it’s been years, I still miss him.”

Edgeworth grasps his own arm tightly, his voice soft. “That never changes.” A silence fell between them. Although filled with grief, there was companionship there too. Maybe they weren’t the same, per say, but they were similar. A pain shared is a pain halved, Edgeworth had once heard. He had disregarded it as weak, just like von Karma had taught him. Now he truly understood. 

“...You know the phoenix? It’s alright?”

“I hope so. I haven’t seen him in a while. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll be far, far away from here. Hawthorne seems to be the obsessive type.”

“Even though we didn’t free him, me and my dad learned a few things about why he was here. It makes sense that she wanted him- especially since phoenix feathers can be used to make poison.”

That- Edgeworth hadn’t known that . It certainly wasn’t in Gavin’s book. “ Excuse me?"

“Yeah- phoenixes are closely tied to life and death. They can’t die, you know. They just get reborn. My dad always loved stories about magical birds- being one himself- and the phoenix was his favorite. Their tears can heal any wounds, but their black feathers can kill any beast if prepared in a special way. It's been used to wipe out entire villages, kingdoms even. Kings and queens would capture them and keep them to serve their every whim. That’s no life for a bird.”

Edgeworth blinks absently, his breath caught in his chest. “What?” How had Gavin missed that ? Or perhaps- he hadn’t. Maybe even Kristoph Gavin had things to hide. To serve their every whim. No one, not even a high-paying man like Gavin, deserved such horrific powers. And Edgeworth had been set on delivering that ability right to him. Thank the spirits that the phoenix had been annoyingly insistent on changing Edgeworth’s perspective. 

“Dahlia had been using the poison on her enemies for years. It's how she rose to the throne. The fae queen before her- Misty Fey- was killed by phoenix-feather poison. She was very kind,” Kay whispered softly, clearly lost in a memory. “My father and her were friends. Once Dahlia was done, though, she stuck the phoenix down here and forgot about him.”

“But… he escaped. That is not going to happen again.” The phoenix had even let Edgeworth bring him to the doorstep of the monster that imprisoned him for months. He had to have been terrified. “Dahlia Hawthorne will never catch him again.”

“I hope so. I hadn’t felt his presence for years, but-” Kay clutches at Edgeworth’s arm and digs her fingers in. It's not painful but it certainly worries him for whatever’s coming next. “Ever since yesterday, I’ve felt something just like him, just for a moment. What if Dahlia found him? What if he’s back and Dahlia’s going to use him again?”

This was all Edgeworth’s fault. He tries to keep his voice steady as he asks, “Yesterday? Is he still… here?” It would make sense that she would have sensed him- after all, wasn’t it just yesterday that he and the phoenix had worked their way into the castle? Edgeworth had hoped he had the sense to go far, far away from this place that wanted only horrible things for him, but the phoenix wasn’t one to think logically, was he?

Kay closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, going near completely still. For a moment she is statue-esque, back rigid, then her frozen posture disintegrates into little jitters that Kay seemingly can’t keep back anymore. “Sorry, I’m not good at feeling out magics,” she mutters with a disappointed sigh. “Because I’m not great at focusing. Before, the phoenix was so loud that you could hear him anywhere down here…”

It was a long shot, Edgeworth thinks wearily. It was a good thing that he had managed to escape. But maybe they were looking at this wrong… there was something else here that they could look for using magic, wasn’t there? Wright- the mysterious, lying man whose magic was louder than any creature Edgeworth had ever met- was down here somewhere with Pess. If Edgeworth could only pinpoint exactly where he was, then perhaps he could still-

What? Still what? What did he want anymore? All Edgeworth had at stake here was a sword upstairs that he could easily find if given enough time. But maybe this wasn’t about him anymore. Maybe it was about Kay, who lost her father but still fought for the truth because it was right. Maybe it was about Mia Fey, the revolutionary who Edgeworth had forced back into Woods and back into the tyranny of Hawthorne after she had tried to escape it, who took it in stride and was relentless to save the oppressed people of the citadel. Maybe it was about Wright, clearly scarred by whatever had happened between him and Hawthorne, yet descended down into the tunnels to save children he didn’t even know to make things right. Maybe it was about the phoenix, whose unwarranted kindness Edgeworth had ignored because he was too angry and bitter to accept anything good from anyone at all.

“Kay, how do you follow magic? How do you track it?”

Kay gives him a skeptic look, arching an eyebrow incredulously. “You? Mr. Edgeworth, I don’t think you can really do that sort of thing.” She giggles to herself but it pitters out once she notices his very intense glare. “Um. Well. I guess you can try…? It’s just extending your mind out to- well, I’ve always thought of it like listening. Magic can be pretty loud if you can hear it. Almost like music.”

“Oh,” Edgeworth whispers to himself, caught in realization. He never thought much of the music of the Woods as anything more than an annoying ability that occasionally warned him of danger a moment before he walked into it. But if he had ever used it consciously, it was a warning sign. Loud magic was something to avoid, something to fear. Now he was trying to find it and follow it.

Edgeworth lowers himself to the ground, crossing his legs on the rough surface. Kay says to focus. That’s simple enough. He has never been good at meditation, his thoughts rattling around his brain too fast to calm down and stay still, but this was a little more high-stakes than simple breathing exercises. He closes his eyes and tries to extend his mind as far as he can. He listens.

For a moment, it just feels silly. But then he starts to hear it.

The distant whisper of everyone above him trickles down like water into his ears. It’s not what he’s looking for, but it’s a start. He just needs something louder.

The echoes grow clearer until he can pick each one out like a voice- all unique and different and overwhelming. And then- how could he miss it? The roar of magic that must be Wright isn’t too far off, still just as boisterous and all-encompassing as the first time they met. How did he ever think he could hide that? It was a good thing he couldn’t, Edgeworth supposes. Edgeworth’s eyes shoot open, shocking Kay, who had been leaning closely the whole time. She screeches as she stumbles back on her feet.

“Yeesh, Edgeworth, you scared me.” Kay rubs the back of her bed, pouting until her eyes widen almost comically. Then she seems amazed. “Did- did that actually work? Did you find something?”

Edgeworth nods silently. With little time to lose, he brushes himself off and bounds towards the far-away inklings of magic. Kay’s not far behind him, ecstatic that they now have a destination.

…

Before, this place had seemed like a maze. Endless tunnels and turns made navigating near impossible. But now- now it was as if he could see from above, as if he knew every turn that led him closer to Wright.

They slow at the sound of voices. Or rather, one voice. One that sends a shiver down his spine.

Dahlia Hawthorne. 

Kay creeps forward lightly, much better at stealthily sneaking peeks of the chamber than Edgeworth and his clunking metal armor. She pulls her scarf over her face as she looks into the next room. Edgeworth can hear Hawthorne’s voice clearer when he follows after her. The words cut in and out as her voice raises. 

“-thetic little worm. I can’t believe you thought I would just let you go…” Kay glances at Edgeworth out of the corner of her eye, gesturing lightly for him to move closer. “…did for you… what a whelp…”

Straining his eyes as much as he can, Edgeworth can only barely make out the pristine white shape of Dahlia Hawthorne’s dress against what seems to be a large row of cells. There’s movement in nearly every one, but those cramped inside are pushed towards the backs, cowering. That’s apparently the farthest they can get from Hawthorne. If Edgeworth closes his eyes, he can hear the gentle melodies of the prisoners- no, the children. And if he tries just a little harder-

A bark- more like a shrill whine-  fills the cavernous space, bouncing off the walls. Pess, Edgeworth thinks helplessly. He can see her white shape in a cell, now covered in dirt and grime. If- when - they get out of here, he’s going to give her a nice warm bath, although she deserves far more than just that.

“Quiet, beast!” Dahlia hisses. “Ugh. I’ll have to have that thing taken care of…”

And next to Pess, partly obscured by Hawthorne’s form, is Wright, curled up on the ground. Edgeworth grits his teeth.

“Edgeworth,” Kay harshly whispers. Her hand braces Edgeworth’s chest, stopping him from moving forward. He hadn’t even realized he’d started moving. “Not yet. We can’t go up against Dahlia alone.”

Edgeworth agrees- he does, really. But his fingers twitch and every part of his being wants to run into that open cavern and stop this. Now. Yet Kay’s hand is a needed reminder. Without Mitsurugi -

Mitsurugi. A gleam of light along Dahlia’s side reveals the blade loosely tied around her waist. She is wearing his sword. His father’s sword. If Edgeworth barely deserves to wield it, then Dahlia has no claim at all. But that doesn’t stop her from running her palm along the top of the hilt like it belongs to her.

Now that he knew what to look for, Mitsurugi, too, sings softly with the tune of quiet magic. How had he ignored that, all these years? But this proves it. All of the impossible things he’d been able to do- Mitsurugi was responsible for them all. Spirits know once all this is over, though, Edgeworth is going to have the mental breakdown of his life.

Magic is deplorable. A plague to be extinguished, says von Karma. A vermin to be squashed, deserving none of the pity we give it, only hate-

Oh, to hell with it. Edgeworth let himself focus on Hawthorne’s mocking once again. Once she was done bragging about her winnings, Edgeworth would swoop in and stop this madness, once and for all.

“…nd now- now you can do nothing to stop me. And that’s all thanks to you…” Hawthorne’s giggling pierces the room, devolving into shrill laughter. She runs a pale hand through her hair absently, thumbing through gentle waves of blood-colored strands. “I’m sure Mia Fey is so proud of you. She will be, especially when I use your magic to finally get rid of her…” Her fingers catch on the gold laurel crown that was placed lightly on her head, grasping the thin frame and lifting it into her hands.

Edgeworth notices, then, that as she takes the crown off to appreciate its gentle glory, all the magic Hawthorne had goes with it. When it’s gone, all Dahlia Hawthorne has left is a quiet sputtering of magic barely discernible among much louder noises in the room, including the screaming pitch of the crown itself. It is overwhelmingly powerful for such a small object. Not only that, but the sound itself is startlingly similar to the roar of Wright’s magic.

That was what Maya meant. There’s no doubt that Wright had made that little crown and stored a portion of his power inside. This was how he had helped Dahlia Hawthorne become the tyrant she is- clearly, her abysmal magic isn’t enough to control her horde of snakes or the entranced guards littered around the city. Wright, for some unknown reason, had given that ability to her in the form of that twisted golden laurel.

And by the terrified look on his face, Wright regrets that decision terribly. He backs further into the cell at the sound of Hawthorne’s erratic giggling. “This has been very useful, dear. Very powerful- there’s no way you could have ever used this magic properly, it’s better in my hands…”

Beside Edgeworth, Kay looks conflicted. He guesses that she’s going down a mental spiral with the new knowledge of who Wright is and what he’s done. Edgeworth can’t say he’s not doing the same. Yet despite the horrible consequences- he doesn’t hate Wright. All Edgeworth wants to do is save him and Pess, take back Mitsurugi, and then leave. He has had enough of Dahlia Hawthorne and her spirits-damned citadel.

Hawthorne continues to cackle as she places the crown back on her head, all evidence of her trickery vanishing. No one- besides perhaps Wright, and now himself and Kay- knew that they were being deceived. Edgeworth briefly wonders how these magical people would feel about being ruled by someone who stole power in order to brutally rise to the top. But he doesn’t dwell on it long- Kay shakes his shoulder to bring his attention back to Dahlia as she walks out of the cavern, laughing all the while. She takes Mitsurugi with her.

Kay waits only a moment until she rushes to the long row of cells and bangs lightly on the bars. “Hey,” she whispers into Wright and Pess’ cell. “The Great Yatagarasu and her assistant are here to save you!” Wright looks gloomily up at her, then looks past Kay and at Edgeworth.

They stare at each other for a brief second. Wright’s eyes light up. “I knew you’d come back,” he whispers with a smile. But Edgeworth can pick out the undertones of fear and uncertainty in his voice.

Kay blinks a couple of times with wide eyes at Wright as he stands. “Woah, mister,” she says with awe. She glances between Edgeworth at Wright a few times before she continues. “You’re- loud.” Wright has the decency to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Thanks. But uh- do you think you could get me and Pess out of here?” 

Kay chuckles earnestly. “I’m a thief! No lock can deceive me,” she brags, getting to work quickly by pulling out a small pin and shoving it around in the lock. It clicks almost instantly and Wright pushes through. Pess bounds out of the cell, licking at Kay’s hands in thanks before running right into Edgeworth's knees. There isn’t any room for embarrassment as he stumbles and falls to the ground to embrace her. His lovely Pess. 

Wright’s quiet voice breaks him out of the moment. “Thank you, Edgeworth.” It’s sad and resigned, full of guilt. Wright probably figures that Edgeworth heard that conversation with Hawthorne. 

“We don’t have the time for sentiments,” Edgeworth says as he pushes himself to his feet. “The children are here, yes?”

“All down the hall,” affirms Wright.

“Then you stay and free them- I’ll go upstairs and take care of Dahlia once and for all.” Edgeworth turns away to start following the tyrant’s path, reaching into his boots for something sharp, but Wright’s warm hand on his shoulder stops him.

“You can’t go alone,” Wright pleads. “Let me go with you, Edgeworth, please…”

“But the children-”

“I can do that!” Kay pops between the two of them, her head pushing through and making Wright’s hand fall away. “I think some of my friends are down here- I’ll definitely be able to free them like I freed- uh, this guy!” She pokes at Wright’s chest, making him wince. “Please, mister Edgeworth? I got this!”

Edgeworth can only glare at such a determined expression for so long. He sighs and nods. “Fine. I’m putting a lot of trust in you, Kay. Keep Pess with you and stay safe.”

Kay gasps in delight. “I get to keep the dog? Sweet!” She drops down to hold Pess’ long white face in her hands and coos lightly. By the look of pure astonishment and interest, Edgeworth guesses that Pess understands every word.

“Then I suppose you are coming with me,” Edgeworth says as his gaze turns back to Wright. The man looks determined, a grim expression unlike anything he’s seen before taking over Wright’s face. It makes his softer, kinder features harden in an almost terrifying way, his dark eyes almost black, his spikes no longer appearing soft but instead more like spines.

It is unreasonably attractive. Edgeworth tries to reel himself back in.

“I won’t let Dahlia hurt these people anymore.” Even his voice is low, a far cry from the jovial excitement and quiet confusion from before.

“If we can take that crown away and destroy it, then she loses her power over these people.”

Wright begins to look helpless. “You can’t destroy something like that- it’s way too powerful. You’d need something even stronger-”

Edgeworth nods and places an assuring hand on Wright’s arm. “Then we get my sword first. Hawthorne won’t stand a chance.”

Wright stares at him for a moment, his dark eyes widening. Edgeworth notices then that they’re two different colors, one darker than the other. He looks away when the moment stretches too long. “Edgeworth,” he whispers. “I lied. I- I’m not human. I’m not wh-”

“I’m not stupid, Wright. I knew that the moment I met you.” Edgeworth grins softly in an attempt to assuage Wright’s worries. Then the grin fades as Edgeworth finds himself becoming serious. “I don’t care what you did before. Just fix this now. Make this right.”

After all- if Wright can redeem himself, perhaps Edgeworth can too.

“Hey, can you two stop staring at each other and save everyone already?” Kay whines from around their feet, still curled around Pess. Wright coughs lightly, breaking whatever tension was building between them. But he gives Edgeworth a light nod in understanding.

They take off down the tunnel, leaving Kay to the children and themselves to the tyrant above.

…

The palace is empty as they climb through it. Unlike the last time Edgeworth was here, though, the guards are absolutely nowhere to be found. The sounds of the festival rise up through the open windows of Hawthorne’s tower. The soft glow of fires and rituals can be seen from so high up, like distant stars in the sky. Edgeworth doesn’t have the time to marvel at that, however. He and Wright are too busy rushing up endless flights of stairs to Dahlia’s room.

When they arrive, they’re not alone.

Dahlia has Mitsurugi unsheathed and her teeth bared. Across the room, lit only by moonlight seeping in from the room’s windows, is Mia Fey, looking every bit the warrior that she is with armor strapped on every surface and a long rapier in her own hands. Despite wielding a larger and more ferocious weapon, Dahlia has no control over Mitsurugi’s weight and swings it around without finesse. But that imbalance of weaponry keeps the fight to a repeated series of parried blows. Dahlia only has an upper hand in the form of her endless mass of snakes and an entourage of brain-dead guards.

Dahlia notices them first, her glare gaining even more heat than before. “You! I just can’t get rid of you, can I?” She rips Mitsurugi through the air blindly, missing Mia Fey by a mile. When the fae woman sees them, her face brightens. 

“There you are! I was wondering what took you so long!” Taking advantage of Dahlia’s anger, she stabs her rapier forward, nicking an edge of Dahlia’s dress.

“We got lost!” Wright yells as they enter the room. “Come on Edgeworth!” He rushes in and Edgeworth suddenly realizes that Wright has no weapon.

Idiot, Edgeworth thinks with a smile. 

Drawing his own short dagger, Edgeworth throws himself into the fray. As much as Edgeworth came to despise Mia Fey for their previous encounters, he has to admit that she’s rather talented when it comes to swordplay. She’s uniquely skilled at short, unexpected blows that catch Dahlia off guard. But there’s the sheen of sweat on her brow and exhaustion creeps through every movement she makes. Edgeworth doesn’t know how long she’s been alone, fending off not only Hawthorne but her guards as well. In an effort to be useful, he takes on Dahlia’s henchmen to make it easier for Fey.

Still a little uneasy from his last encounter with the snakes, Edgeworth is sure to take an extra moment to crush any that get underfoot. Their movement still makes his skin crawl. Wright, thankfully, seems to be taking them out in stride. Technically, Edgeworth realizes, it’s his magic that’s controlling them. I wonder how that works…? But now wasn’t the time for grand logical discoveries- guards encroach on them from every direction.

Wright steals one of the guard’s spears, hitting the poor thing over his head with a resounding thunk that reverberates in the loud room. He lifts it over his head in triumph with a silly grin that makes Edgeworth laugh, then swings it down in an underhanded arc that shoves a different guard down to his knees. Edgeworth rolls his eyes at the excited yelling Wright does in response.

Out of the corner of his eye, Edgeworth glimpses Mia Fey topple to the ground, Dahlia towering above her with Mitsurugi posed, ready to strike. In a mere instant, he’s right behind the tyrant with his dagger drawn. She grabs his wrist before Edgeworth can do any damage, but it’s enough to allow Mia Fey to stagger to her feet and away from Dahlia. 

“Why won’t you just die? ” Dahlia growls, her nails digging sharply into a weaker spot in his armor. Edgeworth winces as she drags him closer still. “This has nothing to do with you, human.” The crown is right there- just within his reach, if he could only move his hand a little further and wrap his fingers around the twisting gold vines and leaves- but then he is thrown across the room with a great invisible force, his back slammed into the wall. The air is pushed out of his lungs in an instant and his whole body aches. 

“Edgeworth!” Wright’s voice is strained, clearly caught in the middle of fighting off a guard when he turns around to watch Edgeworth get flung around. Stupid man. Focus on what you’re doing. Edgeworth struggles to sit up, Dahlia still using her magic against him.

How can they possibly get close enough to take the laurel off? Mia Fey was down, too burnt out to do much more than inch away and breathe heavily. Edgeworth couldn’t match her magic without his sword. And Wright-

“Edgeworth, please! Can you hear me?” Wright pushes through the lines of guards and snakes, skidding to a halt by Edgeworth’s side.

Dahlia growls in frustration. “Why do you have to be so difficult, Feenie?”

Feenie. Where had Edgeworth heard that before?

“Edgeworth, can you stand? Are you okay?”

He had heard that before, when was that…? The pain in Edgeworth’s back is getting worse, making his vision black out in certain spots of his periphery. He’s got to come down from the shock. This isn’t the time for being useless, with Dahlia creeping towards them and Mia recovering herself. 

“You should have stayed in that cell,” Dahlia snarls. She’s almost on top of them when Mia swoops in from the side. They have a little more time, Edgeworth only needs a little more time…

“Edgeworth. Close your eyes. Please,” Wright pleads. He’s desperate. Edgeworth can feel the snakes squirming around his splayed out legs. Close his eyes? Now?

“What… the hell are you talking about? Help me up, Wright, help me up.” He reaches out for Wright to grasp his hand, which he does, but Wright’s earnest eyes are begging him to listen. Edgeworth is hauled off of the ground slowly, kicking snakes around as he does. They two of them are close, so close, close enough for Edgeworth to gaze forward and see how Wright’s eyes contradict each other, one a cool blue and the other a warm, rich brown. They’re beautiful; they hold so much fear.

“You have to be ready to grab the sword, okay? And that means you have to look away. You’ll get blinded, and you need to be able to see what you’re doing.” Edgeworth can barely hear the next part over clashing metal in the background, Dahlia and Mia Fey struggling against one another. Wright has a hand in his own, another on his shoulder squeezing lightly. “You have to trust me, Edgeworth. I’ll explain everything after. You just have to trust me.”

Edgeworth stares in hesitation, then draws his hand out of Wright’s, which is so warm it almost burns. “I- I trust you, Wright.”

Wright nods quickly and turns to face Dahlia Hawthorne. His back is straight, his fists are clenched, he has no weapon. Despite not being able to see his eyes anymore, Edgeworth knows that Wright is looking upon the tyrant with a blazing fury. 

Like he’s instructed, Edgeworth turns away. But he’s only a man. He curiously glances out of the corner of his eye.

Wright stands there, determined, then bursts with a glowing light. The whole room is enveloped in a blinding white hue, drowning out Hawthorne and Fey and the furniture in the room until Edgeworth is sure he’s lost his sight. But Wright’s silhouette is burned into his vision, fluid and melting away into flame.

He knows a second before he sees it. He should have known earlier, with all the clues Edgeworth had. Wright’s odd interest in Gavin’s book, his unexplained trust in Edgeworth, the fact that Edgeworth returned it, despite only having met him what- hours prior? It was all unreasonable. No stranger would put so much effort in convincing everyone around him that Edgeworth was trustworthy. That Edgeworth was worth any effort to befriend him.

Because he is no stranger. Wright could have never been a stranger.

Wright’s body dissolves in the light, shortening and widening all at once. He disappears into Edgeworth’s cloak- the one he had refused to take off- and then a different kind of light shoots out of the tumbling fabric that hadn’t even had the time to fall to the ground.

As the light fades, Edgeworth blinking away the glare and dark spots in his vision, he witnesses the emergence of the phoenix’s- Wright’s- gorgeous plumage, his wingspan gloriously spanning several feet across. He soars above the room until he turns, extends his talons out like a bird of prey about to kill, and snatches Hawthorne’s laurel right off her head.

She screams like a limb was just torn from her body, like her eyes were ripped from her sockets. Hawthorne clutches her head like it’s bleeding.

Edgeworth doesn’t have a moment to lose- he rushes forward, kicking snakes from underfoot, arms and hands outstretched. He ignores his reeling mind- Wright, the phoenix, all this time and he never told me, and I never knew- so he can grab Mitsurugi as Dahlia drops it. It doesn’t even hit the ground before it is restored in Edgeworth’s possession. The weight of the blade feels right in his hands as swings around, battle-stance ready, to face Hawthorne once and for all.

Her hair, once beautifully and intricately braided, falls loosely around her agonized face. Every breath she takes is ragged and a struggle. Still, she turns her head up to glare at the phoenix- at Wright. “Insolent traitor,” she spits with venom. “Get back over here so I can rip your feathers out-”

Wright- the phoenix?- lands on Edgeworth’s shoulder. The magic of the crown is so potent that it seems to seep through his armor to burn his shoulder. “I’m good over here, thanks.” There’s that snarky disposition, Edgeworth thinks. But he can’t help but notice a slight touch of fear laced around the edges of those words. 

“You’re defeated, Hawthorne. Stand down.” Edgeworth lifts his sword towards Dahlia for added effect. It makes her bare her teeth in a scowl.

“No… no! Pathetic weaklings like you… never…” Dahlia pants wildly. Her eyes dart back and forth like a cornered animal.

Wright gives Edgeworth a look and Edgeworth nods. In one fell swoop, Wright takes off from his shoulder and drops the laurel to the ground with a clang. Edgeworth reels Mitsurugi back and brings it down with a shattering hiss, the laurel breaking off and splintering into hundreds of little gold pieces. Magic jets out from every jagged edge like water bursting from a dam. The screaming rings around in Edgeworth’s head like the sounding of a gong, a reverberation that never ends, as the guards around the room fall still and silent. The snakes littered in every corner of the room begin to shrivel and wither away.

Without anything more to lose, Dahlia makes a mad dash for Edgeworth, eyes filled with rage and a thirst for vengeance. She doesn’t make it beyond a few feet. The phoenix careens towards Dahlia at unfettered speeds, talons outstretched again. The force of the bird flying at her face knocks her backwards stumbling away from Edgeworth. Wright makes a second dive, and then a third, until Hawthorne’s back hits the ledge of a window.

She teeters against the edge. Edgeworth’s first instinct is to lunge forward and end this, once and for all. But he hesitates. Would his father do this? Would his father kill?

He had in the stories, but that was always because it was the only option. Always a last resort. Was Edgeworth still the monster that killed simply because they were magic?

The phoenix- who Dahlia had used to create a terrible poison to dethrone the previous fae royalty, a gentle and kind queen; who Dahlia had forced into making a powerful magical object that would control an entire citadel; who Dahlia had kept trapped in a cold, dark cell underneath the city for who knows how long before he escaped- glances at Edgeworth from mid-air. Edgeworth distantly recalls what the phoenix had told him once, long ago. I refuse to kill anyone.

His father would put an end to Dahlia Hawthorne’s terror. But maybe killing her was too brutal an answer. At least one for Edgeworth to decide on his own. And Edgeworth didn’t want anything more on Wright’s conscience, as easy as this felt.

Edgeworth doesn’t run her through with his sword, he simply steps forward to hold Dahlia in place.

Mia Fey stumbles towards them. Sweat glistens on her brow and there’s a sort of hobble to her step, but Edgeworth can’t help but silently revere her. She doesn’t say anything, just nods in Edgeworth’s direction. Thank you, her eyes are saying. Edgeworth nods back.

“It’s over, Dahlia,” Fey states resolutely, hand on the hilt of her pristine rapier. “Your cruel terror is over.”

Dahlia Hawthorne thrashes violently in Edgeworth’s grip. “No,” she hisses. “I will never bow down to you, Fey.”

Then, Edgeworth’s grip slackens for just a moment, his exhaustion too much for a second too long. But when Dahlia bursts out of his hold, she doesn’t run towards Fey or Wright or even face Edgeworth himself. She knows she’s lost. She takes turns, a single step, and then leaps.

Dahlia Hawthorne falls out of the very same window Edgeworth had fallen from two days prior. Her fluttering hair and pristine white dress are framed by the sun rising in the distance, the sky erupting in oranges and reds and yellows. Edgeworth focuses on the colors instead of the sound of Dahlia Hawthorne hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

Unlike Edgeworth from two days prior, when he gazes down, she does not move. Dahlia Hawthorne stays deathly still.

Edgeworth doesn’t usually feel remorse after killing. He doesn’t regret Dahlia’s death- it was deserved. But death itself feels heavier now. He only remembers to breathe when the phoenix lands on his shoulder again. The warmth is welcome and grounding.

“You’re a bird,” Edgeworth mutters as he watches the sun rise.

“Yeah,” Wright whispers back. “I guess so.”

Illuminated by golden-yellow light, Edgeworth struggles to hold back an unexpected laugh on a bleak, cold morning.

Chapter Text

Wright is the phoenix.

The phoenix is Wright.

Edgeworth can’t help but stare in shock at his hooked beak and small, feathered head. Although, in hindsight, this makes a lot of sense. Wright’s magic has always been so powerful, crackling and yelling like- like a flame. It should have been obvious. It is obvious. Edgeworth had just been too caught up in just about everything else to notice.

The bird notices him staring, cocking his head to the side. “What, miss me?” The mouths of birds are a far cry from a man’s, lacking both teeth and the ability to contort in most ways, yet Wright manages to spite all that by smirking wildly.

“Yes,” Edgeworth says without thinking.

Wright blinks several times to process that. “Well. I never really left, so.”

They both go silent, the implications of everything weighing in their minds. Wright awkwardly clenches and unclenches his talons- unchained- on Edgeworth’s shoulder. 

“Come on, you two. I have places to be,” Mia Fey interrupts. Edgeworth turns around to see her arms crossed and foot tapping. But she’s smiling, a sign of the hopelessly optimistic. After all, Dahlia is dead- Fey has a right to be hopeful. “And Phoenix? Put on some clothes. Please.” She points to Edgeworth’s cloak still piled on the floor.

Wright chuckles nervously, then takes flight in order to land on the crumpled red cloak. Edgeworth misses the warmth almost instantly. He has a fleeting, lonely thought: how long will this last? How long would the phoenix stick around Edgeworth, especially after everything had happened? Edgeworth has certainly missed him, he can’t stop himself from admitting that now. He’s missed the witty comments and companionship that the phoenix provided without being asked. Even though Edgeworth had imprisoned the bird. He had threatened to kill him. Despite an apparent lack of friends, Edgeworth knows that good relationships didn’t start the way theirs had. Not the ones that last.

The phoenix is going to leave. It’s inevitable. So why does he fly back to Edgeworth’s shoulder after picking up the cloak off the floor? Why doesn’t he fly out the window? Why doesn’t he perch on Mia Fey’s shoulder? At least she’s a good person who doesn’t kill at a moment’s notice because she was told to. Edgeworth can’t claim the same.

Wright drapes the cloak across Edgeworth’s shoulder. “I’m supposed to carry this?” Edgeworth asks with a raised brow, keeping his tone light and teasing. Don’t scare him off, part of him pleads. 

“It’s yours anyways. Besides, I can’t change now. That sort of thing requires privacy, Edgeworth.” The phoenix shrugs playfully. His voice is airy and sweet, almost like he’s holding back a chuckle.

Another thought reels into Edgeworth’s mind. Is- is calling him by the name of his species wrong? Offensive? Should he call him by the name he was given- is Wright even a real name? Would it be too forward to ask for a name?

“Of course,” Edgeworth responds distantly. He’s too busy spiraling to come up with a more engaging remark. “My apologies.”

The bird- phoenix, Wright?- tilts his head curiously. “Don’t worry about it. I’d just- be pretty exposed, you know?”

A bad thought. A horribly distracting thought. But it’s just- Edgeworth knows exactly what the phoenix looks like as a man, as Wright. Perhaps more than he should, considering Wright’s affinity for not wearing shirts. But the rest of him… that’s the making of another, different mental spiral that he really does not have the energy for.

Edgeworth fixes his grip on Mitsurugi instead of following that mental road. It feels wonderful to have it back in his hands. It feels right. And now it carries with it a deep history that Edgeworth hadn’t known before- a legacy that his father left behind. Mitsurugi is more than just a tool now. It deserves more respect than Edgeworth could ever give. He craves the time to sit down and polish it until it shines the way it deserves.

He doesn’t have the time for that now, however. Mia Fey is already gathering her bearings, fixing dented armor and making her way to the once-controlled guards littered around the room. Right- even though Dahlia is gone now, there is still an entire city left behind with no one to guide them. Does that mean Edgeworth is trapped here until this is resolved? Will he have to be constantly vigilant, waiting for another tyrant to rear their head and take over the city? If he wants to be like his father- and he does, he really does- is Edgeworth stuck guarding this citadel forever?

Perhaps not. Mia Fey leans down to check the pulse of a guard and smiles. Unconscious, still alive. Mia Fey is a natural leader, clearly kind and thoughtful as shown by the way she helps the guard up from the floor. Annoyingly persistent, most definitely. He remembers their first encounter, when Edgeworth had gone against her naive sense of rebellion and righteousness. Even years after, he is still able to recall her unwillingness to give up. The citadel needs that sort of thing: the direction and dedication of Mia Fey. Perhaps… Edgeworth isn’t as needed as he fears.

But what does that mean for him now? Where is he supposed to go?

…

When they descend the tower to the city streets, guards haplessly staggering behind them, they’re greeted by a silent crowd gathered around the base of Hawthorne’s castle. The people are all still dressed for the solstice, bright colors and flowing robes, but the cheery nature of the festival is wiped away by the looks of horror upon their faces.

Dahlia Hawthorne is dead. And now, in her place, is a strange woman surrounded by dozens of the very same guards who Dahlia controlled. To say it’s an unfortunate entrance would be an understatement.

“Faes and beasts of the citadel!” Mia Fey calls, her arms outstretched in the air, no weapon to be seen. “Dahlia Hawthorne is gone! We’re free of her oppressive rule- she controls us no longer!”

The crowd still doesn’t move. It’s clear no one is terribly moved by Hawthorne’s death, but they look upon Mia Fey with fear. A simple declaration isn’t enough. A ripple courses through the crowd, however, as one of Dahlia’s old guards steps forward, limping on his feet as if he hadn’t used them in years. Edgeworth can only guess how long Dahlia had been controlling him. Having someone bending your mind to their will sounds worse than death. 

The guard, taller and larger than most of the crowd, is an imposing figure as he walks toward them. They inch back, afraid- all except one. One head pushes through the crowd with fervor and breaks through the line to wrap much smaller arms around his huge, scruffy form. They embrace for what appears to be the first time in years.

Edgeworth can’t think of anyone who he would defy such great fear to meet again. No one who was still alive. 

The other guards slowly make their way forward, searching for their own families and friends. In a single moment the tension among the crowd dissipates into quiet relief. They seem to forget about fearing Mia Fey in favor of crying in each other’s arms. That relief quickly transforms as well, becoming boisterous at the arrival of a mass of children ascending from beneath the castle. 

Kay leads the charge, riding on the back of what must be the largest dog Edgeworth has ever seen, Pess following closely at her heel. She grins widely at Edgeworth and even wider when she looks ever so slightly to his right. 

Her shout is almost inaudible over the other children running to reunite with their parents. “You found the phoenix! I knew it came back!” She jumps off the back of the dog and runs up to Edgeworth, sticking her hand out towards Wright. “I know you probably don’t know me, but I’m the next Great Yatagarasu-”

Wright hops off Edgeworth’s shoulder and on to Kay’s hand. She winces a bit- try as he might to be gentle, Wright’s claws were still sharp- but she quiets. “Hello, Yatagarasu,” he says with a nod. “But we’ve actually already met. Thanks for saving me earlier.”

Kay’s mouth falls open. “ You! You’re the phoenix!?” Some of the other children crowd around Kay at her outburst. Edgeworth notes how small some of them are and is overwhelmingly relieved that Dahlia can never take them again.

Wright chuckles lightly and climbs up her arm. “Well, yeah.” He lifts his wings up for the children to see the bright and incandescent colors shimmer in the morning light. He’s always been a show-off, hasn’t he? First the lack of a shirt, now this. Edgeworth is just glad to see the phoenix’s wing has healed rather well, no longer as twisted and mangled as the first day they’d met. 

Edgeworth lets Wright flaunt himself while he leans down to hold Pess’ head in his hands. She’s still covered in dirt and grime from the catacombs, a travesty staining her beautifully white fur. But Pess doesn’t seem to mind at all, only happy that she’s reunited with Edgeworth. I won’t leave you like this ever again, he promises silently as she presses her wet nose into his hand. He resolves to find her a warm bed and blanket before the day is over. 

Edgeworth looks up while petting down Pess’ fur. Wright is soaring through the air, attracting a sizable crowd who watch in awe. Maya Fey must have just arrived, tightly hugging her sister and most definitely crying. Kay has adopted her own league of child followers who seem to hang on their savior’s every word. Even more people flood the street, their smiles growing as the sun continues to rise.

It’s overwhelming. Edgeworth can only be glad he is far enough away that he is able to breathe.

Remembering suddenly, Edgeworth searches through his clothes and draws out the tiny red book that Maya Fey had given him. But when she notices him approaching, she closes her wet eyes and shakes her head. “Keep it,” she says as she pushes away from her sister. “You honestly need it more than I do.”

Edgeworth opens his mouth but doesn’t know what to say. He hasn't finished reading the book- for that reason he’s glad- but he doesn’t need it, does he?

“What, have you never gotten a gift before, Edgeworth?” Maya teases and laughs, but Edgeworth wonders how she would react if he told her the truth. No, actually. At least, not for over fifteen years. Anything received was always at a price.

He wraps his hands around the book tightly. He will cherish this gift for the rest of his life. “Thank you,” he manages to mumble.

“No, thank you,” Mia Fey cuts in. Edgeworth had never realized how calming her voice could be, how she sounds like a mother, or at least what Edgeworth imagines one to be. “I never thought I would say this but- I don’t think I could have done this without you, Edgeworth.”

“Now we can focus on rebuilding the city!” Maya cuts in. “Mia has so many plans- this place is going to get so much better!” It’s clear she’s swelling up with pride for her older sister.

“You can stay as long as you need, Edgeworth,” Mia says with a nod. “We’re indebted to you.”

Edgeworth can’t shake his head any quicker than he does. “No, I couldn’t. I’ll just need one night and then I’ll leave in the morning.” He uses sheathing Mitsurugi as an excuse to look away and not meet their eyes. 

It would be too much to see the disappointment in Maya’s expression and the quiet worry of Mia’s. He may have helped them this time, but he doesn’t need to take any more of their kindness than necessary. One small act doesn’t make up for years of killing. He should not expect anything more.

…

The streets don’t get any quieter, only bursting fuller and louder with a growing crowd as the morning turns to day. Edgeworth watches- comfortably, from more than ten feet away- as Mia Fey is paraded around the city, a hero by all rights. She apparently has a gift for inspiring speeches, her voice drawing even bigger numbers from every street corner. Mia Fey’s voice is booming yet gentle as she declares them all free people.

Edgeworth is content watching from a far way off. So, too, is the phoenix.

Edgeworth notices the unsuspecting phoenix has a tendency to get swarmed by tiny children and adults alike, all enamored by his prismatic colors that reflect the sun in all kinds of hues. Despite being strange and magical creatures themselves, a phoenix appears to be a step above that, elusive and myth-like even to young boys with furry, goat-like legs and girls with constellations of black, spider-ish eyes.

Wright didn’t flinch when one child, barely old enough to walk, took a handful of his feathers and pulled. But he also hasn’t left Edgeworth’s shoulder since, clearly a little hesitant to throw himself back in the fray. Edgeworth doesn’t blame him for that. It does make his mind spin, however- why is the phoenix so insistent on staying by Edgeworth’s side? The Feys are only a few steps away. The complacency of Wright’s companionship is worrying. Doesn’t he understand that all of this is temporary? 

They stay that night in the Fey’s tiny house despite requests to move into the castle now that it’s vacant. Mia Fey, much like Edgeworth, seems very hesitant to step back inside that horrible place. Edgeworth sits down on the small cot, pulling out the red book, only to get a few pages in before he stops. Looking at this pilgrimage of unbridled good his father apparently led- it brings up the unwanted question: where is Edgeworth going to go now?

He can’t stay here in this house with the Feys. He deserves none of their kindness. And, selfishly, Edgeworth doesn’t think he has the strength to fix a corrupted city like this into a haven these people desperately need. It’s far too much, too overwhelming, and Edgeworth loathes the idea of being bound to the tiring and authoritative job that is rebuilding an entire governing system. Not in a place he knows he isn’t welcome. Even if these people didn’t know what he had done now, they would find out eventually. It was better to leave with the advantage than be rightfully thrown out later when they discovered him for what he was- a murderer and a coward. 

But where would he go if he left? There is von Karma’s manor, of course, but just the thought makes his blood run cold. He would just be given another job, another innocent creature to kill or maim or capture. Edgeworth can’t imagine chaining another helpless creature like the phoenix to his arm ever again, dragging it through the forest as a soon-to-be-corpse. But that left Edgeworth without purpose. If he was going to wander now, it would be aimless. Pretending to be a hero like his father would be even worse. Miles Edgeworth wasn’t a good samaritan, he had only joined Fey’s cause to be vengeful and petty. He hasn’t changed enough to wield Mitsurugi the way his father did.

Wright sits beside him, the cot weighed down by his presence. He’s human again- or, appears like one at the very least- and has Edgeworth’s cloak thrown over his shoulders without much thought. He’s wearing it wrong, Edgeworth notices. The clasps are adjusted in such a way that it hangs loosely around his form. The sight of him in such a haphazard state puts a strange feeling in Edgeworth’s chest that he wishes to ignore. But he can’t.

The phoenix has been a mystery from the beginning. He was too kind, too open, too brave in the face of danger that could free him from Edgeworth if he had any sense. Charading as Wright proves that he doesn’t have sense, no ability to plan ahead. Yet still overly good . It sets Edgeworth on high alert and then calms him down again in the same breath. Everything about him is a contradiction and yet makes perfect sense all at the same time. Of course he’s good, of course he’s kind. In a world that so easily manipulates people and creatures like Wright, of course he refuses to give in to the harsh realities as Edgeworth had years ago.

“So,” Wright says softly after some time and heavy silence. “We- we should talk about this, huh? I’m sure this is weird for you-”

“You can turn into a magical talking bird at will. You’ve saved my life on multiple occasions, despite the fact that I have earned nothing of the sort. You’re sitting next to me now and not who I presume to be your family, just a few rooms away. Perhaps you should better define ‘this’, there are far too many things to talk about.”

Wright chuckles to himself, scratching the back of his head. Even the spikes of his hair jut out like feathers- how did Edgeworth not connect the dots? “Yeah… you’re probably very confused. Sorry.”

Don’t apologize, Edgeworth has the urge to quickly say. He does not do anything of the sort. He might be confused, yes, but he hasn’t suddenly lost the ability to reign in his tongue. “Hm. Yes, you could say that.”

“I’m sorry for tricking you.”

I’m sorry for kidnapping, threatening and almost selling you to someone who is likely a murderous psychopath. “Mhm.”

“But you- you understand why I had to, right?”

He does not. But Edgeworth tries to rationalize some sort of answer anyways. “To hide yourself from Dahlia. She would have a much harder time trying to identify a completely unremarkable man than a sparkly bird.” Unremarkable. Edgeworth curses himself- perhaps he isn’t so good at controlling his words as he’d thought. Wright is far from unremarkable and yet just the thought of admitting that squeezes his chest like a vice.

Wright doesn’t seem to mind, though. He laughs like they’re sharing a pleasant joke between friends. “Yeah, I mean, that’s true. She, uh… didn’t forget what I looked like in this form, obviously. But it was easier to hide in a crowd, with her looking for me.”

“Why did you stay?” The words fly out of his mouth before he can stop them. I’m an idiot, Edgeworth laments. This is none of his business. And yet… Wright’s eyes practically beg for more, for Edgeworth to elaborate. He gives in. “After I… freed you. Why did you return? You could have fled from Dahlia. But you didn’t. And then you got captured. Leaving was the most reasonable option.”

Wright darts his eyes away, deep in thought. “I couldn’t. Not with Mia and Dahlia. I couldn’t hide anymore. And you were… dying. How could I just leave?”

Very easily. You could have just kept flying, you imbecilic, self-sacrificing bird. You could have left me to die and went on your merry way over to Fey. Or simply left this place entirely. Even I could tell Hawthorne would have kept you forever if she had the chance. What could have possibly driven you to fly back into near-certain doom for someone you should hate?

Edgeworth voices none of this. It seems rude. He merely hums in response and returns to staring wistfully at the little red book. The leather binding is a little rough to the touch, bumpy against his fingers. 

“Have you read it all already?” Wright takes the bait for a somehow easier topic of conversation. 

“No. Only skimmed.”

Wright smiles. “We should read it together. And- and prove Mia wrong about me being a bad student. ”

And how long would that take? How long are you going to continue humoring me? When are you going to leave me? Edgeworth just wants a little warning, that’s all. So he can prepare himself for the disappointment. “We can see what we can get through tonight,” Edgeworth says because he is a weak-willed man who gives in to his desires far too easily for comfort. 

Wright moves in close beside him, their shoulders bumping and pressing together. His voice is quiet as he reads, likely trying to avoid waking the Feys, but he tries to pronounce every syllable, every word with precise diction. He’s trying to impress me, Edgeworth realizes. Why? The way his voice blends with the melodic undertones of his magic is soothing. Edgeworth might be falling asleep, his head starting to lean on Wright’s shoulder. Perhaps if he was more conscious he would protest. But Wright is warm, so warm, and after nights of sleeping by himself with nothing to warm him but a thin blanket…

“Edgeworth?”

“Hm?”

“...Nevermind. I’ll ask you in the morning.”

Edgeworth takes that as an invitation to drift into unconsciousness with his head still resting on Wright.

…

When he wakes, he finds himself in an odd parody of how he had spent his nights before anything Dahlia had come into his life- then, it had been his hand, buried in the fire-hot feathers of the phoenix who laid peacefully on his chest. Except now the phoenix is Wright- who is just as warm but very much a man- and now Wright is curled around him, chest to back, and he’s snoring. The bird never snored. Edgeworth tries to worm his way out but he’s kept in place by firm arms wrapped around his middle. He’s on the brink of panic before he can remind himself that Wright is a friend- and isn’t that a thought. But not only that, Wright is asleep. He didn’t mean to hurt Edgeworth. I need to relax.

Wright’s breathing- when Edgeworth is finally able to listen past the slightly grating sound of snoring- is even and soothing. It pairs well with the gentle roar of his magic, still present despite dormancy. If he were more tired, it might lull him back to sleep. But the pressure of Wright’s moving chest- bare, still bare- on Edgeworth’s back is enough to keep him aware of every small movement. Maybe if he was more used to the feeling of sharing a bed this would be comforting. But he isn’t and he doubts he ever will be.

Wright stirs awake only a few minutes after Edgeworth. It feels like hours. The only sounds he makes are annoyed grumbles, clearly not up to the task of saying real words just yet. At least the once-tight grip has loosened and Edgeworth can pry himself out of Wright’s arms.

Edgeworth remembers his words from yesterday as he smooths down his hair. I need to leave, preferably before the Feys wake and try to convince me to stay. He searches the room for the few things he has- Mitsurugi , the books, his armor and a small pouch for water being the highlights- as Wright tries to push himself out of bed.

“What’re you doing?” Wright’s speech is slurred, still in the middle of yawning. Edgeworth freezes.

“Leaving,” he mutters, reaching out for Pess. He hadn't managed to clean her yesterday, but he’s sure the first river they come to will be sufficient. She lifts her head over his shoulder as Edgeworth kneels, undoubtedly looking at Wright behind him. Her tail thumps against the floor. Say your goodbyes, Pess. Please. She pants happily into his ear.

Even though Edgeworth can’t see him, he knows by the creaking of the bed that Wright stands up suddenly. “Leaving? But- the sun hasn’t even risen yet.”

Edgeworth hums, looking out a window to see that Wright is correct. It’s better that way- best to leave before anyone notices. Or, anyone else. Wright is already proving to be an obstacle…

“I- last night- I wanted to ask you-” Wright stumbles over his words helplessly. It’s enough to convince Edgeworth to glance behind him at the man in order to see his floundering efforts. Wright’s spikes are in a disarray and his eyes are blown wide, his movements reminiscent of a bird flailing in flight. It’s oddly endearing.

And that is why we need to leave, Edgeworth reminds himself and returns to packing.

“Where are you going?” 

“…I-” don’t know. Edgeworth grits his teeth. “I have yet to decide. Anywhere but here.” It sounds unnecessarily cruel but perhaps that’s just how Edgeworth does all things.

“Well, if you, ah- if you want suggestions, I might need an escort to the place I’m going. If you want to tag along.”

Pess, the traitor, bounds from Edgeworth to lick at Wright’s hands. We can’t, girl. We have to leave. And yet. Edgeworth turns around and grips his elbow, experiencing a wave of awkwardness. “…how far away is this place?”

Wright looks up from grinning at Pess and manages eye contact with Edgeworth. “Pretty far. A couple of days at the least, maybe a week and a half if I get lost.”

“Yes, well. You wouldn’t want to travel alone for so long. Especially if you lose your way. You have a knack for getting caught, don’t you?” What was he doing?

That knocks a bright laugh out of Wright. “That’s true. I definitely don’t want to go alone.” He continues to pet Pess even as he looks longingly at Edgeworth. “Would you want to come with me, then? Until you figure out where you want to go next, of course.” He adds that last part as if he just remembered it.

Edgeworth has thought long and hard about leaving. Mainly, that doing so alone would be the best course of action after everything he’s done. But he barely thinks at all when he breathes out a quiet “yes,” and taps his fingers on his leg.

Wright smiles. Edgeworth smiles back, small and unsure.

…

Because apparently nothing is easy, they’re stopped before they even make it through the front gates.

Kay is waiting for them as they arrive, tapping her foot impatiently on the rough stone path. “You took forever, Mr. E! What gives?”

Wright looks almost taken aback by the level of sass, but Edgeworth just shrugs. “You should have communicated you were waiting. What if we had gone through a different exit? You’d be waiting all day.”

Kay’s face drops for just a moment, and then it returns to its natural state of a permanent manic grin. “Well, you didn’t! And I’m here now! Can I come along with you two? I have so many questions-”

Wright glances at Edgeworth out of the corner of his eye in a silent question. Kay was only a child. Didn’t she have someone looking for her? But then again, she always seemed to be alone. And her father was gone.

Edgeworth’s lonely journey is looking less and less lonely by the minute. 

“Please, please, please,” Kay is still begging, now dropped to her hands and knees on the ground.

“Fine,” Edgeworth sighs. “Only because I know your magic will come in handy.”

Kay takes it, punching her fist into the air as she jumps. “Yes! Thanks, Mr. E! And you too, Mr. Bird! I promise I won’t slow you down! And I’ll take the best care of Pess.”

“As if I wouldn’t do that myself,” Edgeworth mutters smugly, just loud enough for Kay to hear and get slightly miffed by it. 

And to think he woke up this morning thinking he was going to wander aimlessly on his own for all time. Having made acquaintances with two of the most stubborn people he’s ever met, Edgeworth should have known better. 

They’re just about to escape when they are stopped again. Edgeworth holds back a sigh at the sound of yet another person running after him on what was supposed to be a quiet morning.

“Wait!!” Maya Fey is quick on her feet but can only move so fast dragging a large, saddled horse behind her. She almost trips and falls when it stops for a moment to lower its head to the ground. Edgeworth watches in silent amusement as she tries and fails to tug it forward again until it decides it's ready and Maya nearly falls a second time. She’s panting by the time she reaches them. “S-sorry, I just… I thought you might appreciate a ride. I only have the one horse though… it was the only one I could… steal… agh!” She yelps as the horse lightly bumps her head with its nose. Kay explodes with laughter. 

“That… is very kind of you, Miss Fey,” Edgeworth says as a feeling of dread weighs down his shoulders. Another gift. How indebted to Maya Fey is he now? He can’t possibly take a horse, not when they need all the help they can get after Dahlia Hawthorne.

“Yeah, well. If you’re going to take my best friend with you, you at least deserve a ride,” she says sweetly, then her voice drops low. “Oh, and you better be super nice to Nick. Or else I’ll track you down, wherever you’re going, and you’ll be sorry.”

Edgeworth blinks, mouth wide open. Is this a gift, or a warning? “Thanks, Maya. That’s really nice of you,” Wright cuts in, his voice laced with a nervous edge. He seems just as unsettled by that threat as Edgeworth as he takes the reins of the horse and pulls it along. “I’m sure this is going to be very useful. And,” his smiles softly at the fae girl, betraying what is undoubtedly a long history of friendship and shared pain. “I’ll miss you.”

“Well, you better visit, you big dummy! No more disappearing like that again, okay?”

Wright chuckles. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be back soon.” He offers a hand to Edgeworth, who blanks at the sight of it before taking it firmly. Wright leans over to the horse, whispering gently into its ear, and the horse lowers itself, almost kneeling, so that Edgeworth can throw his legs over and grip the reins tightly. He can’t remember the last time he’d ridden a horse and he’s certainly never ridden one with a goddamn horn sticking out of its head- how did he miss that, a unicorn, really? - but it comes back to him as the horse trots out of the city gate and into the Woods.

…

Traveling through the magical Woods with the phoenix by his side is both exactly the same and completely different than the first time. Wright insisted on changing into a bird for the journey, claiming it was convenient. And it is, in a way- only he and Kay have to switch off riding the unicorn when one of them gets tired. But there’s something to be said about the inconvenience of having a permanent source of heat clinging to his shoulder as he walks. 

They go three days, mostly in silence aside from Kay’s endless ramblings, before they find a bubbling stream tucked in the shade. Wright declares it a sign to rest and everyone- especially Pess- is happy to have a break from moving. 

Wright lays out the cloak on the ground and sits on it like a blanket. Kay, the only one with any foresight to bring food, lays out a mess of fruits and dried meats she’d managed to pocket. Edgeworth fills his canteen with water and they all sit on the cloak together in a makeshift picnic. It’s oddly peaceful. The first true moment to breathe that Edgeworth has had in a long time. They watch as Pess jumps after the tiny fish in the water, her legs so long that they keep the rest of her far out of reach of the mud. Eventually Kay jumps in the water with her, leaving Edgeworth alone with Wright, appearing human for this brief moment of rest. 

Edgeworth has a million questions and asks none of them. How could he, when half of them are variations of why are you still here, do you hate me and where are we going? Wright has been oddly secretive about that last one- promising a happy surprise whenever they arrive. But it’s throwing Edgeworth off- what is he supposed to be preparing for? They’re certainly only going deeper into the Woods and not towards the edge, witnessing groves and rivers that Edgeworth has never even seen on a map before. What could they possibly be walking towards? Edgeworth hopes it’s not another city underneath the rule of a cruel dictator, he’s not quite recovered from the last one yet. 

He hopes it’s some place like the stream, which is calming in a way that Edgeworth had forgotten existed. Watching Kay and Pess play makes his mouth twitch and his eyes soften, even after years of living brutally on the edges of civilization.

“Edgeworth?”

“Hm?”

“What’s your home like?”

The question catches him off guard. “I- don’t know. I don’t know if I have a home, really. I’ve been traveling for so long…”

“But what about when you don’t have jobs? If I hadn’t stopped you from leaving, where would you have gone?”

Edgeworth thinks of the cold, empty rooms of von Karma’s mansion. He might have gone there if he wasn’t so terrified of what he would find. Von Karma himself would be livid. He doubts he would ever be given the opportunity to leave again. But what about Franziska? Would she feel bad for the man she calls her ‘little brother’? Or would she finally see him for what he was- a stranger on borrowed time. “I think I would have wandered the Woods. I really couldn’t tell you. But before that… I did have a place to go to. But I don’t think I will ever go there again. Not after- not after everything that’s happened.” Not after meeting you, he means to say. But that’s all too much to even think. Saying it feels impossible.

Wright ponders this. “Really? Never any home at all?”

Edgeworth sighs quietly. “You know my father wasn’t one to stay put. But that was alright. I was never unhappy with him.”

“So he was your home.”

“…yes. I suppose he was.”

Wright lays down on the cloak, staring up at the blue sky. It’s bitingly cold out here, but Edgeworth supposes Wright’s so warm that the fact that he doesn’t own a shirt matters very little. “Sorry about all the questions. I guess I just realized- I don’t really know you. I know a little about your childhood, about what you do… but I don’t know you at all.”

“I am what I do, Wright,” Edgeworth mutters as he lays back so that he and Wright’s shoulders touch.

“Not anymore. You’re different now. I think that’s fucking awesome.”

“Have you always been so vulgar?”

Wright closes his eyes and grins. “Oh yeah. Don’t you remember? I think I called you a dick every other day.”

“Yes, you did, didn’t you… but not anymore. What, have you started to tolerate me now, Wright?” It’s a slippery slope. He’s digging a hole and soon he won’t be able to climb out, but he doesn’t want to stop.

“Edgeworth,” Wright says, his light, joking tone gone with a stray breeze. “You’re my friend. At least- I hope so. You were a dick- but that changed when you set me free. When you saved me from Dahlia. And- maybe it took a little longer than that, and it wasn’t that sudden, but you have changed.”

Edgeworth’s mouth goes dry. “I was repaying a debt. We’re even now. Do not try to do me any favors, I have earned none of your kindness.”

“Maybe,” Wright shrugs. “But that’s not why I’m doing this.”

“Then why?” Edgeworth can’t help but hiss the words out with venom. “What possible reason do you have for any of this? For inviting me along with you? For- for daring to call me a friend?”

“I know you’re a good person, Edgeworth. Whether you agree or not. I wanted you to come along. I want you to see my home.”

His home.

Edgeworth can’t find the words. By the time he’s managed to even open his mouth, several minutes have passed in complete silence. He doesn’t get a chance to question out loud as Kay runs up to the both of them, soaking wet, her hands full of tiny snails she’s dug up from the river bank. Her hands are overflowing with mud and some drips down onto Edgeworth’s lap.

“Oh, hey, nice one, Kay,” Wright says jovially, all memory of their previous conversation tucked neatly away. “How much digging did you have to do to find this many?”

“Pess helped!”

And that’s how Edgeworth comes to find Pess’ normally brilliant white paws caked in grimy, green-gray-brown silt. Edgeworth gives Kay a single, cold look and then Kay is groaning complaints as she cleans Pess from top to bottom.

“You’re such a mom, Edgeworth,” Wright laughs to the point of wheezing. 

Edgeworth doesn’t know how to take that. He doesn’t know how to deal with just about anything this man says. He probably never will.

…

Sometimes, he and the bird talk in hushed tones while Kay runs ahead with Pess. Edgeworth figures it’s good for a girl her age to be adventurous and unruly, so unlike prim and proper Franziska. He also supposes Wright isn’t the worst companion to have. The awkwardness their initial conversation left behind still lingers in the corner of every interaction they have, but Edgeworth is more than willing to ignore it. The phoenix seems to feel the same.

Edgeworth still wonders what exactly his home is like. Part of him foolishly imagines it as a large bundle of sticks and mud large enough to fit a person, but Edgeworth knows that borders on insensitivity. He will wait to see for himself, he decides. I can be patient.

In the meantime, they speak about the little things, like the weather and Kay’s never ending energy up until she begins to drag herself along and whine about her feet.

Edgeworth has always been patient if it’s required. But he has a hard time knowing when and where to cross the line. At some point, curiosity wins over.

It starts with Kay yelling over her shoulder as she runs off, “Bye, Mr. E! Bye, Mr. Phoenix!”

Wright rolls his little bird eyes and calls back, “Stay where we can see you!” It’s nothing new.

Still. “Bird, do you actually have a name? Is there something I should be calling you?” And then, because apparently when the dam breaks it keeps spilling and spilling, “Maya Fey calls you Nick. Dahlia Hawthorne called you Feenie. Kay has been calling you Mr. Phoenix. I have been told to call you Wright. Was that just a cover name? Do you have a true name? Am I- would it be wrong to ask for it?”

The phoenix tilts his head in thought. “I’ve gone by a lot of names, Edgeworth. None of them are really wrong. Wright is my name, but so is Nick, and so is Mr. Phoenix. There’s more, too. Bennu, Fèng Huáng, Firebird, Konrul. I guess that’s sort of because I… I don’t really have a name? Not just one, at least.”

That confuses Edgeworth to no end. “You just let anyone call you anything they want?”

“Well, yeah. I do prefer some over others… but it doesn’t matter all that much to me. Why does it matter to you?”

He always manages to turn things around on Edgeworth, doesn’t he? “I- wish to call you by the right name. Especially after everything you’ve been through… you deserve respect. A name can give and take that away.”

The bird smiles, as much as a bird can. “That’s sweet, Edgeworth. If you really care that much, you can just call me Phoenix. It’s the name I like best.”

“Phoenix,” Edgeworth whispers to himself. He’d said it many times before. But now it was new- reborn on his tongue, different and full of life. It fits the man as well as the bird in a way Edgeworth can’t quite commit to words. “That’s ridiculous. A phoenix named Phoenix? Not very creative, are you?”

“Have you ever thought that maybe my whole species is named after me? I think if every human was called an Edgeworth because the coolest human was named Edgeworth, that wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Miles. If- if you wished to call me by my true name, I would prefer the name Miles.” He thinks of the little book stashed away under all his armor, close to his heart. The name Edgeworth gives him pride, especially now, after all he’s learned, but he is not his father. He is Miles Edgeworth.

“Oh,” Phoenix says back, almost as if he were stunned. He recovers quickly. “That suits you. Miles. ” Phoenix says his name like a song, all melodic and lovely. 

…

On day eight, Kay runs out of the food she’d brought and begins to get more and more tired, sitting on the unicorn more often than not. Edgeworth doesn’t mind it all that much- he’s missed walking as much as he did. But he’s starting to get exhausted too. Phoenix keeps insisting that they’re getting close, really close, yet it doesn’t come soon enough. Pess has started to chew sadly on loose sticks she finds on the ground, which makes all of them feel a little worse.

Phoenix guides them through a thicker part of the Woods, magic screaming around them in such intense waves that Edgeworth feels a headache begin to form in the back of his skull. The bird insists that they have to push through, that they’re so close, just a bit further, guys. Kay buries her head into the unicorn’s mane to drown out the sound.

Then they do push through, right into a little grove unknown to everyone in the world except the three of them and Pess.

The sky is open above them, featuring a little patch of land like an island amongst a sea of trees. In the middle is a tiny cottage, old and half worn away. It must have been built centuries ago, by the looks of it. Phoenix appears by his side, suddenly human. “So this is it,” he announces, his voice a mix of pride and relief. “ Mi casa es su casa. Welcome to my home.”

Kay looks at it like it’s come straight out of a fairytale, although that might be partly because she’s so hungry that she’s desperate for just about anything. “Is there any food in there?”

“Yeah, wait a second, you gremlin,” Phoenix says, walking forward to the house and putting a hand on the handle. Edgeworth can see him lay his forehead on the worn wood, like a quiet reunion between old friends.

Edgeworth waits with bated breath as he turns the handle and walks inside.

Chapter Text

The interior of the house is small, as expected. Edgeworth had been able to see a good portion of it from the outside anyways, what with the walls crumbling the way they are. 

The door seems a little unnecessary, Edgeworth thinks. It’s the kind of thing he would say out loud to make the bird chuckle, if Edgeworth wasn’t so nervous about all this.

Phoenix’s home. This is personal. Intimate. And invasive- like looking through the keyhole of a locked door. Except the door is wide open and the walls are practically falling apart and Phoenix is already walking inside. Kay follows as soon as Phoenix has taken a step, drawn in by the promise of food. Pess is not far behind.

Edgeworth freezes just outside the doorway. He’s about to spiral, he can feel it. He can feel those bitter thoughts he’d just about chased away start to rise in his chest and crawl up his throat, making their way to his mind. His breath feels quick. This is wrong. I shouldn’t be here. What if there’s someone waiting to jump out at us? What if this is all a set up? What if-  

But then Phoenix turns around and smiles, gesturing for Edgeworth to come inside. Edgeworth feels warm again.

There’s really no difference between the ground before and after the doorway. There are floorboards underneath Edgeworth’s feet, but they’re obscured by weeds poking their heads through the timeworn wood at every possible opportunity. He can identify hints of a kitchen to his left, with a hearth and small table set aside. There’s tarps strewn above his head, perhaps enough to protect from rain but the large uncovered sections would be perfect to view the stars from. Or, maybe for a bird to fly out if the need arises. 

Phoenix opens a chest pushed against a wall and pulls out a large knit blanket, handing it over to Kay to wrap herself in. She sits at the table with a smile and it is then Edgeworth realizes there are already three chairs set up for a meal.

Does he have guests often? Edgeworth scrunches his face up in thought. He’s so far out in the Woods. And he didn’t know he would be bringing us when he left here last, surely…

Edgeworth watches skeptically as Phoenix pulls out an array of fruits- still fresh, although Phoenix couldn’t have been here for weeks, at least- and sets them out for Kay. They’re laughing together, likely about something stupid, as they always do, but Edgeworth can’t seem to relax.

What’s going on here?

Kay gives him an odd look, almost as if she’s telling him that she shares his caution. They watch together as Phoenix transforms into a bird and flies around the tiny enclosed space. Mitsurugi’s hilt has found its way into Edgeworth’s palm as Phoenix whistles out a sweet little tune, almost like a lullaby.

There is a responding whistle, a harmony to Phoenix’s song, which hides the sliding of metal as Mitsurugi is unsheathed.

Of course, this all makes Edgeworth terribly confused when a little soot-covered girl falls out of the chimney with a crash. Mitsurugi nearly drops to the ground.

Pess makes the first move, brave as she is. She steps toward the chimney cautiously, reaching out her long nose to sniff at the little girl’s hand and licks it briefly. Her long pick tongue sticks out in disgust at the taste of ash, which makes the little girl giggle. As a hello, the girl sticks out a large bundle of fur she’d been cradling to her chest.

“It’s nice to meet you, Missus Noodle-nose. This is Polly. Right now he’s a rabbit.” 

Polly the rabbit, all thin and bony as wild rabbits are, looks rightfully terrified as he is presented to Pess the hunting dog. Pess licks his nose.

“Trucy, why is your brother a rabbit?” Phoenix makes a graceful landing on the top of the little girl’s- Trucy’s- head, making her giggle. 

“That way we can both climb in the chimney together, daddy.” They laugh together. They have the same laugh.

Edgeworth begins to feel a little dizzy. He feels just about as shell-shocked as poor Polly the rabbit, who is still getting assaulted by Pess.

Daddy.

Phoenix’s home. Of course.

The pair- father and daughter- are still chatting away. “It’s going to be very hard to introduce him if he’s a rabbit, Trucy,” Phoenix says softly, with all the love of a parent.

“He likes it that way!” Polly wiggles in a way that says rather clearly without words that he disagrees. “And you’re a bird right now, so he can be a rabbit right now too! Oh, and maybe I can turn into a big striped kitty so we can all be animals. Especially now that you got me a dog too. She is a dog, right? Her nose is silly.”

Phoenix laughs. “Pess isn’t ours. She belongs to Edgeworth.”

Trucy flits her eyes across the room, between Pess, Kay and, finally, Edgeworth. He watches as she considers this new information, expression closed off in thought. Then she jerks her arms forward and offers the squirming rabbit in her arms.

“I’ll trade my Polly for your Pess!”

Phoenix cracks up laughing, growing even louder as Kay sticks out her tongue and makes a noise of disgust. “Pess is better, thanks.” 

Polly simply sags in defeat in Trucy’s iron grip.

“Alright, Trucy, let’s put your brother down. We’ve got to treat our guests.” Phoenix glides off Trucy’s head, transforming as he does. Trucy sets Polly on the ground and the two of them begin to set their small wooden table with a smile.

Father and daughter. All this time? 

Edgeworth can’t decide if he feels warm because he’s charmed by this tiny family’s affections or because he’s starting to feel sick.

All this time.

Edgeworth doesn’t really listen when Phoenix asks someone to go out for firewood, but he goes out anyway because he needs something to do. He needs some air.

…

When he returns to the house, there is a young man tending to the fire that Edgeworth had not seen before. Maybe it’s a testament to just how strange his life has gotten, but it only takes a moment to decipher who he is. After all, he’s just as jittery and has the same wide, brown eyes as he did just a little while before.

“You must be Polly,” Edgeworth says quietly as he hands the boy some firewood to add to the hearth.

Polly rolls his eyes, taking the wood with a grumble. “It’s Apollo. That’s just what Trucy calls me.”

“I apologize for Pess. She’s friendly, I assure you.”

“Pess is fine,” Apollo says, not caring to hide the bitterness crawling into his voice. “She’s not the one who insisted on keeping me a rabbit.” He points a frown and a glare at the direction of Trucy, who is folding a blanket with her father.

There is a pang in Edgeworth’s chest as he recognizes hints of himself and Franziska in the two of them. He hadn’t realized how much he missed her.

“She’s your sister?”

“Uh, yeah.” Apollo blinks anxiously. “How did you guess?”

Edgeworth shrugs. He could say that they have the same light brown hair that tends to stick up in any direction if it’s short enough. He could point out their too-similar eyes or the fact that they have the same nose. But that wouldn’t be true, really.

“You just act like it.”

Apollo does not seem to like that answer. But Apollo is right around that age where any comparison to his sister has got to be a source of frustration, no matter what that comparison is. Edgeworth remembers what that was like. Some days he’s still living it.

Once the fire is quietly roaring, Pess and Kay bundle up next to it, dozing off as their dinner- some kind of stew that Phoenix and his family have just made out of thin air- is roasting over the heat.

Phoenix and his family. That sick feeling is returning.

I stole him from his family, Edgeworth finally admits to himself. It’s another type of stomach-dropping nausea to actually put it into words, even if they’re confined to his own mind.

Edgeworth feels a sense of dizziness as he watches them together, Phoenix helping Trucy stir the large pot over the fire, Apollo leaning over to supervise. He can hear but not make out clearly their soft bickering. Phoenix is laughing at something Trucy said with a bright smile, Apollo scrunching his face into a frown. Edgeworth feels envy spread through his chest as Phoenix rustles the hair on Apollo’s head much to the poor boy’s chagrin.

That is the worst part. Edgeworth is horribly jealous. Jealous of this family, and guilty for nearly destroying it.

Unbidden, a memory of Gregory Edgeworth flashes behind Edgeworth’s eyes. He shakes his head in an attempt to get rid of it. That fails, as it always does. Edgeworth nearly took away their father the very same way his was taken from him.

He’s a monster.

Edgeworth stares into the middle distance as Trucy hands him a bowl. She utters a quick little thank you, while Edgeworth is still trying to force his own mouth to say the very same thing before she turns back to sit beside her father. Everything feels just the tiniest bit worse.

…

Dinner and afterwards are a blur. Edgeworth watches as Trucy drags Kay towards her room to bunk up together but it’s like looking upon a staged performance, ultimately unreal. He is aware that Pess’ head is resting on his leg and that he has eaten some of his food. Neither feel very tangible.

Edgeworth turns his head towards the sound of faint arguing, revealed to be the hushed yelling of Apollo and Phoenix. Apollo’s face is red with anger, gesturing in a barely-contained frenzy of hands. Edgeworth can scarcely make out Trucy’s name among the berating.

Phoenix doesn’t say a word. Not until he puts a hand on Apollo’s shoulder, to which the boy flinches silently. Edgeworth sees his lips move slowly and recognizes the phrase as one he knows quite well.

I’m sorry.

Apollo looks to the ground and wipes at his eyes. Then he storms off.

Phoenix sighs as he walks towards Edgeworth. He jumps a little when Phoenix sits beside him.

“Long couple of days, huh?” Phoenix sighs, eyes half-open and clearly struggling to stay awake.

Edgeworth stares ahead and hums, the only response he can really manage.

Phoenix shuffles in the chair. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Me and Apollo. He’s… overwhelmed.” He taps his foot on the ground anxiously and slumps into the chair. “I guess he doesn’t appreciate me disappearing for so long unannounced.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

A beat of silence hangs between them. Edgeworth doesn’t have to say it out loud for the both of them to know that he really means the fault is his .

“Still. He’s not going to forgive me for this one.” Phoenix stands, stretching his arms above his hand. Edgeworth’s eyes widen at the audible pop coming from the man’s back. “Yeesh, we should head to bed, huh?”

“Ah, yes,” Edgeworth mutters. “We should.” He can’t stop repeating we, we, we , over and over in his head. How many beds could Phoenix have prepared in his tiny little house for guests? And it’s not like they haven’t been sharing for who knows how long…

It’s embarrassing how hopeful just the thought makes him. How much he wants to curl into a bed and have someone else’s arms pull him into sleep. Phoenix’s arms. Feeling warm, Edgeworth briefly touches his cheek. He’s certainly quite pink as he follows Phoenix about the house.

Fingers slide into Edgeworth’s own and he is pulled down beside the man into a bed. It’s dark but warm, and surprisingly soft. Edgeworth picks up what he assumes to be a knit blanket, squinting to discern its color.

“Trucy made that for me,” Phoenix whispers, noticing his interest. “She’s very talented.”

“Clearly,” Edgeworth mutters back. He lowers his head to the plush surface of the bed.

Phoenix turns toward him. It’s not a very big bed. Their knees are touching and their chests nearly meet with every breath. “Should I… you know. Turn into…?”

Edgeworth meets Phoenix’s eyes, or as much as he can in the dark room. “This is fine.” It comes out rougher than he intends to. He prays that it doesn’t scare Phoenix away.

“It’s a little cramped,” Phoenix whispers back, voice light and joking.

They stare at one other for a long while, too long. For Edgeworth, this is the most intimate he has ever been with another person, human or not. Perhaps he and his father were this close, once, but that was so long ago. This is now. This is real.

“Yes. It is.” Edgeworth’s heart is beating like thunder in his chest. “Stay.”

And Phoenix does.

…

It’s odd to think that Edgeworth’s life could ever find rhythm again. Not after all the change that has been thrust upon him recently, along with the several crises of morality. The kind of exhaustion that brings is the sort that seems to last forever and makes settling down impossible.

And yet.

It is easy to fall into the habits this tiny family already has. Trucy tends to wake up first, Edgeworth has noticed. Being a bit of an insomniac himself, he is usually awake when Trucy begins to tip-toe around the house. The first time he witnessed this, he thought it was some animal trying to sneak in and steal food. Prying himself carefully from Phoenix, he poked his head out only to catch a glance of a fast-moving shadow skittering about the house. Although he’s embarrassed to admit it, he reached for Mitsurugi before he squinted a little harder and realized it was actually Trucy searching around for a stepping stool. She couldn’t quite reach the counter on her own but with the help of a few extra inches, she started to collect supplies to make breakfast.

The first couple of days, Edgeworth watched in silence as Trucy whipped together a small meal for her family to eat as the sun rose outside. At first, he was more than a little surprised. His upbringing on the von Karma estate had seen very little preparation of meals, as the staff von Karma employed were paid to deal with all housework themselves. He could not recall a time when Franziska was ever expected to make food on her own, let alone want to. Yet Trucy woke up early every morning and quietly prepared food all on her own until her family filed in to assist.

It did not take long for Trucy to notice Edgeworth’s silent presence and to invite him over.

Not wanting to be rude, especially to his kind host, Edgeworth slowly makes his way to the counter that Trucy claimed as her own every morning. He’s greeted with her glowing face.

“I’m making raisin bread,” she whispers, like she’s sharing an important secret. “Can you help me knead the dough?”

Edgeworth cannot say no to her wide, pleading eyes.

Although he never made any food at von Karma’s manor, he could certainly remember a time before that when he did. Edgeworth’s hands recall it easily, falling into a steady rhythm. If he closes his eyes, he can still see his own hands, much smaller than they have been in years, working at dough he was still learning to control. And if he concentrates really hard, he can look to his right in this memory and see a much larger pair of hands that he mirrored, and he can hear a faint, deep voice laughing and soothing his worries as the dough stuck to his hands. That voice taught him the importance of keeping flour on his hands, Edgeworth remembers, although back then he was Miles, simply Miles. The memory doesn’t make all that much sense- the two of them never stayed in one place long enough to have an oven consistently- but the way his hands move on instinct prove it must be true.

“You’re pretty good at this, Miles,” Phoenix says behind him. As Edgeworth opens his eyes, he realizes how much time has passed. The sun is already starting to peek into the house.

“Ah, yes,” Edgeworth mumbles back, a little flustered by the use of his name. “Well. My father taught me, I believe.”

He looks over at the man, only to see Phoenix’s small smile, brighter than the morning sun. 

Edgeworth shakes his head. He’s getting far too sentimental in his old age. It’s beginning to become a problem. Although, with the warm, fuzzy way it makes him feel… perhaps it’s not the worst problem to have.

“I do hope you know I’m eating like, half of that,” Phoenix says, effectively ruining the moment. 

“Where would it even fit? I can’t imagine that bird stomach of yours can hold more than half a slice of bread.”

“Magic, Miles.”

Edgeworth scoffs. “Will that be your excuse for everything, Phoenix?”

“If you let me use it that often.”

“I will not,” Edgeworth replies smugly as Trucy comes to collect the dough he’s kneaded. He watches as she takes a small knife and cuts tiny little lines into the dough’s exterior, then puts it above the oven. Apollo, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, meets her at the oven. The children gaze silently, as does Edgeworth, with a bit of confusion, as Apollo snaps rapidly with his fingers.

Edgeworth’s eyes widen as a flame suddenly ignites between the boy’s fingers and there is no hum of magic to be found.

Phoenix puts a hand on Edgeworth’s shoulder. “Apollo’s half human.”

“And the girl…?” Edgeworth keeps his voice low, partly because he doesn’t want these children to hear and partly because he is straining to hear any semblance of the magical songs he has come to know quite well.

“They’re half siblings. Trucy’s magic on both sides.”

And yes, Edgeworth can hear that too, now. She’s still quiet, especially next to the constant roar of Phoenix, but it’s more noticeable than Apollo or Kay.

Speaking of. This makes two halfling children in a week that Edgeworth has stumbled upon. He didn’t realize there were so many. How little does he know, really?

“I took them in, a couple years ago,” Phoenix says quietly, just loud enough so no one could hear but Edgeworth. “It was after Dahlia. I was pretty much on the run, no idea what I was doing. But I found Trucy, all alone. I couldn’t leave her- she’s young now, but she was even younger then. Having her in my life… it gave me purpose, you know. Apollo came to me a little while later. So now they’re here with me.”

Always sacrificing himself for others , Edgeworth thinks fondly.

After the bread has finished, and he watches this group of people he has found, who have found him, Edgeworth realizes not knowing doesn’t scare him anymore. He isn’t afraid for his life at every moment, the way he was. Here, he feels comfortable. Safe. The next morning, Edgeworth wakes early to make bread with Trucy again. And the day after that, and the day after that.

…

They spend their days in a relative ease. Kay and Pess get along well with the other children, Trucy especially. The young girl is a walking ray of sunshine, capable of making even Edgeworth crack a smile on the dullest of days. She likes to drag them outside into the clearing around the house, sitting among the forest and picking through the little foliage still around this far into the colder months. Phoenix tells him that she loves making flower crowns in the warmer weather, and that he can’t wait to see what Trucy will make him come spring.

That makes Edgeworth smile too.

It’s one of those days that, despite the chilling cold, all of them are bundled together outside. Kay and Trucy run amongst the red leaves, delighted at the loud crunching sounds they can make. Edgeworth and Phoenix take this time to read through the tiny red book detailing Gregory Edgeworth’s life. They've managed to catch the attention of Apollo, who’s listening intently a few feet away. The distance is a reminder of the tension between Apollo and Phoenix, which still hasn’t let up. It’s beginning to make Edgeworth worry- they’ve been like this for nearly two weeks now.

Otherwise, it’s been a wonderful two weeks. It doesn’t feel like any time has passed at all, in this beautiful little glen.

And Mia Fey turned out to be wrong- Phoenix is a perfectly good student. A little absent-minded, yes, but clever and quick to learn. He’s worked his way up to reading quietly all on his own when any form of writing had been gibberish to him perhaps a month earlier. Edgeworth can’t help but be proud. 

The book has become something of a ritual for them. Sitting down together, flipping through the pages while reading it out loud. The addition of Apollo- and sometimes Kay, as she likes to claim that Yatagarasus feature in a few chapters, although Edgeworth is skeptical- makes their reading more meaningful somehow. Edgeworth likes to believe he’s keeping his father alive, in some sense. Especially now that his story is being shared.

Edgeworth is listening quietly one day when Kay stumbles up to him, followed by Pess. Who is covered head to toe in leaves. Kay gives him a nervous smile.

“Kay,” Edgeworth sighs. “What did you do?”

“She fell into a leaf pile.” Pess even has the gall to look proud of that little fact.

“You need the brush, then?” Edgeworth finds himself smiling easily, shaking his head with a chuckle.

“Ye-“

“I’ll get it.” Edgeworth stands, brushing off his legs. “I’ll be right back.” At the sight of Apollo beginning to frown, Edgeworth is sure to add, “you’re free to continue, of course.”

It’s odd how such a little and previously unimportant thing like witnessing Apollo’s eyes light up has become so necessary to him. How seeing Kay and Trucy get along so well made his chest warm. How Phoenix had become such an essential part of his life.

He walks into the house silently but not unhappy, quickly sorting through his things to find Pess’ brush. Then, as his fingers brush over a cold, smooth surface in his bag, he feels his balance falter for just a moment.

The dark cover of Gavin’s book is chill to the touch, having been forgotten for weeks now. It was easy to forget in a place like this- so far from the influence of wealthy lords in search for magical solutions to their problems. 

Edgeworth shoves the book back where it came. I can forget again, he assures himself. How much does this matter, anymore? Gavin must have lost hope in this mission long ago. But where that warmth was before, Edgeworth can only find dread. 

He can forget. He must forget. He’s happy here.

He can’t ruin this now.

So he searches a little longer and finds the brush. He hands it to Kay and watches her and Trucy pamper Pess. He listens to Phoenix read aloud while sitting beside him. Yet, when he closes his eyes that night, all he can see is the black leather book and Gavin’s unfeeling blue eyes.

…

Edgeworth struggles to get through making breakfast with Trucy, as wonderful as it usually is. He loves watching her narrate her process, all while making up stories about where the deer in the forest have gone at this time of year. She’s wonderfully creative, with all the fascinating tales she is able to pull out of her mind on a whim. She’s just as talkative as her father.

And yet Edgeworth finds himself staring with empty eyes into the dough as he kneads it. This used to mean something. But now… 

It’s fine. If he pushes it away, it will disappear. Like everything else. If he ignores it…

“Mr. Edgeworth?”

“Oh. Yes, Trucy?”

“Don’t overwork the dough!”

“Oh. Yes, Trucy.”

Trucy giggles. “You’re silly, Mr. Edgeworth. But I’m serious about the dough. We don’t want it to go to waste before we bake it!”

“Exactly, Miss Trucy. That’s a good mindset to have.” He can hear how nothing his voice sounds. He’s trying, yet he can’t seem to push it away. He has to ignore it. If he can just ignore it.

But as the day continues, he can’t seem to shake it. Even as he sits next to Kay and watches her and Trucy put on a show using the silverware. Even as Phoenix reads an entire passage from the book about Edgeworth’s father, completely on his own and with only a few errors here and there. Even as Apollo comes up to him, scratching the back of his neck and looking more than a little nervous. 

The appearance of the boy shocks him out of his thoughts. The first thing Edgeworth notices is the pair of bunny ears sprouting out the top of his head. At least Apollo has the care to hold them down and look sheepish. “Trucy,” he explains. Edgeworth nods, that much he can understand. 

“Look, Mr. Edgeworth,” Apollo starts, dragging his feet along the floor. “Look. I just wanted to say… thanks.”

Edgeworth blinks. He hasn’t interacted much with the boy since he’s come to this house. In all honesty, he had not been trying to. Apollo is of that age where everything is awkward and stifling, his relationships with his family changing as he grows. Edgeworth has never been great with kids anyways, let alone teenagers. Not to mention the strange tension between him and Phoenix. It seemed best to stick to simple things, like foraging with Kay or baking with Trucy. So this is… unexpected. 

“I… you’re welcome?”

“I mean, that is,” Apollo flattens the set of ears on his head with a sigh. “I’m sorry. These things are ridiculous. But Trucy won’t change them back. What I mean to say is, thanks for bringing Phoenix back. Trucy missed him. Like, a lot.”

“Trucy did?”

“Mhm. Just her.”

Edgeworth can’t help the way his face lifts into a smile. “Just her,” he affirms. “Why is Trucy so thankful? I mean, Phoenix came back because he wanted to. He led me here, actually. I had next to no influence.”

“But you’re part of it, I know that much. I’m not dumb, Mr. Edgeworth.” Apollo’s eyes go wide, coughing lightly. “Um-”

Maybe a few weeks ago, Edgeworth would have taken offense to that kind of tone. Now, he finds it easy to be patient. “No, what do you mean?”

“It’s clear that Phoenix owes you something because you helped him. He’s sort of a mess, so it’s not that crazy to think that he got himself into trouble and needed help getting out. And you were the one that helped him. It’s pretty obvious.”

“I… did help. To an extent.” Along with getting him into trouble, that dull part of his mind supplies. “You’re a rather observant child.”

“Hmph. I’m not a child, but thanks.” Apollo narrows his eyes at the ground, then takes a deep breath. “I know that me and Phoenix are at odds a lot. And sometimes I can’t stand him. He’s never disappeared like that before. It scared me. But he means so much to Trucy. He’s like…  her dad.” He pauses and pets down the ears on the top of his head. “He’s sort of like mine too. I missed him.”

…

Edgeworth can’t fall asleep. He knows a nightmare is waiting for him, even though Phoenix is curled against his side. He’s… terrified. 

He thinks of that black book, tucked into his bag. Another thing he’s tried to forget, but it always comes back for him. Like his father. Like his years of merciless killings. Like the man who wanted Phoenix alive for who knows what. Except Edgeworth has a good guess about that one too- he remembers what Kay had said about phoenix feathers and poisons. About what Dahlia did. 

Potentially, what Kristoph Gavin could do as well. 

Edgeworth’s mind keeps reeling. He can’t even close his eyes. 

Phoenix would never agree to that. Phoenix is too good, he would never kill, not even if it meant his own freedom. That’s why Gavin sent Edgeworth in the first place- to get a creature that wouldn’t come of his own free will. A horrible thought occurs to Edgeworth: if Gavin was willing to go through such lengths to get Edgeworth out here, capturing a beast when he’s usually hired to kill it, what’s to stop him from trying again? What’s to stop him from sending another? Gavin already knows so much about Phoenix- a whole book’s worth- so what’s to say that he doesn’t know about this cottage?

And if he doesn’t know now, he’ll find out. Sooner or later, Gavin will discover this place and all its inhabitants. The children included. And if Phoenix won’t go willingly…

Edgeworth can’t breathe. The Wood’s singing at night is stifling, yet all he can hear is the ringing in his ears. He’d tricked himself into thinking this place was safe. But it isn’t. Not with Edgeworth in it. He’s going to have to leave, if he wants this family to stay safe. If he wants an entire world- his entire world- to be safe from whatever Gavin has planned. 

He turns his head as quietly as he can manage. Phoenix’s face is relaxed in sleep, not showing any signs of consciousness. His mouth is slightly ajar, making every breath ever-so-close to being a snore. It’s adorable. Phoenix is adorable. And kind. And witty. And-

Edgeworth is in love with him, isn’t he? 

Damn it. That makes everything all so complicated, doesn’t it? 

Or, perhaps, easier. Now he has to go, if he wants to save Phoenix. He knows he desperately wants to keep Phoenix safe. So he has to do this. He has to leave. 

Edgeworth allows himself one more minute. Sixty seconds, and he counts every last one. Then he rises to his feet, takes a breath, and goes to find his things. He does not cry, because he knows it would wake someone. 

As he goes to collect Pess, he looks down on Kay. He could take her, except he absolutely cannot. She’s happy here. She’s found a friend and a sister in Trucy. She would understand. She has to understand. 

Pess whines as they approach the door. Edgeworth has to shush her several times before she’ll quiet down. Please, girl, he pleads quietly with his eyes. Somehow, she knows to listen. Belatedly, Edgeworth realizes she’s practically the only friend he’ll have after this.

Despite knowing he shouldn't, Edgeworth stops one last time beside Phoenix’s sleeping form. He’s still laying there, snoring softly. This is- if all goes well- the last time Edgeworth will ever see him. So he lets himself have something to hold on to. One last selfish wish.

Edgeworth kisses the very top of Phoenix’s forehead. Phoenix smiles- even in his sleep the sight is still mesmerizing.

And then Edgeworth leaves.