Kain looks up to find Edge lurking in the shadows, arms crossed. In his dark clothes and silent shoes he is scarcely perceptible beyond the dense afternoon sunlight that streams into the hall. Kain looks around at the members of the Eblanese delegation mingling with those of the Baronian court, then looks back. Edge shrugs impatiently.
"I'm bored, you're restless, and neither of us is required for this. Let's get out of here."
"This is in your honor," Kain points out.
"Yeah, I'm duly honored, I said so, and now a bunch of people who actually run my kingdom are going to talk to the people who actually run yours, and eventually Cecil and I will be handed pieces of parchment to sign, and in the meantime, my presence is not required." Edge straightens and unfolds his arms. "I can make it a royal command."
Kain just stares at him.
"I hate that you're as good at that as Gramps is," Edge says, and then his voice takes on a wheedling edge. "You're not doing a very good job of pretending to have a good time."
If Kain learned anything at all on their journey, it is that Edge's stubbornness rivals Cecil's, albeit in a more talkative way. If nothing else, it would behoove him to ensure the King of Eblan does not wander where he ought not and come to harm. He sighs and turns to face Edge fully. "Very well."
"Any reason we can't go outside castle walls?" Edge asks as they walk, not quite shoulder to shoulder, to the exit.
"I suppose not, although Your Majesty should--"
"My majesty is not planning on bringing guards. If you can't keep me safe, what the hell will they do?" Edge keeps walking as though his words have not nearly rooted Kain's feet to the stone floor. He shakes his head and hurries to catch up.
"What did Your Majesty have in mind?" Kain asks when he draws even with the ninja again.
"To start, for you to call me by my name, not my title," Edge says. "To continue.....wanna race?"
Kain blinks. "What?"
"Race. When two or more people run from a starting point to an ending point and see who arrives first?"
"I know what a race is, Your--" He cuts himself off at the eloquent raised eyebrow above the ninja mask. "Edge."
"So let's have one."
"Do you only propose contests you are certain of winning?" As soon as the words are out, Kain winces. He knows better, has been trained better, and whether or not Edge is a friend it is not an appropriate way to speak to a monarch.
"Certainly not," Edge says. "It's no fun if there's no competition."
Kain waits.
Edge sighs. "I'll give you a head start," he offers.
Edge has settled on something he wants to do, and there is no point in arguing. Kain nods assent and Edge whoops loudly enough to draw the attention of the guardsmen at the gate. When they look, he waves cheerfully and strolls across the courtyard to the gate.
"His Majesty desires a walk," Kain says when the guards look to him for direction.
The elder of them frowns, then clearly decides that this is a problem to be handled farther up the chain of command than he is--specifically, by Kain--and waves them through. It is, truthfully, a beautiful day to be outside, with the scent of sun-warmed grass and a cooling breeze to keep the summer's day from becoming oppressive. Kain rolls his shoulders and draws a deep breath. Formal affairs put him on high alert, reminding him of Golbez, and he endures them for Cecil and Rosa's sakes but is never glad of them.
He wonders if Edge knows that.
Edge wanders along the castle wall, avoiding the road that leads into Baron city proper, his eyes narrowed as he surveys the expanse of cleared land between the castle and the forest. "Alright," Edge says abruptly. "From the post there--" He points at a marker for the guards' rounds--"to that oak with the lightning scar there." His arm swings to point at the forest, perhaps a mile distant.
Kain is glad he was not required to wear ceremonial armor to the reception. He wiggles his toes inside his boots. They should do well enough.
"No jumping for you," Edge continues, "and no ninjutsu for me. And since you're more of the muscled stalwart type, I'll give you a thirty-second head start."
Kain only barely contains the urge to splutter and only because it will serve only to encourage Edge. When he has control of himself, he looks at Edge, w ho looks mildly disappointed. "Accepted,," he says.
He can tell Edge is smiling by the crinkling lines at the corners of his eyes. "On my mark," Edge says, strolling toward the post. Kain lines up with him and looks ahead to the goal.
"Ready," Edge says, and lets a pause spin out to a length of pointless drama. "Mark!"
Kain takes off running, the grass thick and cushiony beneath his feet, and counts the seconds in his head. He hears Edge's footsteps behind him right on time, and ducks his head to push himself harder. He has kept in good trim since his return from Mt. Ordeals, but he was never especially fast; Dragoons are, as Edge mockingly noted, a heavy-armor profession, and stamina is more important than speed for them. (He dares not think what Edge would make of that fact.) He hears footsteps drawing closer even as he approaches the forest, and he knows that Edge is choosing to let him hear his approach; he has seen Edge run in silence over sand and gravel to strike an enemy. He sees it for a courtesy, and he is nearly to the trees--
A dark blur whips past him, reaching the storm-split oak when he has several strides to go. He does not slacken his pace, more for pride than anything, and draws to a halt in the cool shade of the trees, turning back to the goal. Edge is breathing deeply but not harshly, fists resting on his hips. He has pulled off the ninja mask and his face is flushed with effort.
"So, not enough of a head start then," Edge says as Kain comes within reach.
"Was that not your intent?"
"Well, I accomplished my goal," Edge says, "which was to get you out of that room and out of your own head." Kain can tell he does not control his expression well enough, because Edge shrugs. "You were standing there like you'd been lashed to a spear to keep upright and trying not to curl in on yourself. Clearly you were miserable. Since, as I've said, there was no point to either of us being in there, I figured I'd give you something better to do."
The welling of gratitude surprises him. He swallows hard. "Your care is appreciated," he says, and it is too formal, but his throat is too tight for more.
"Care," Edge muses aloud, and his gaze is too sharp, sees too much. "That's a way to put it."
He has never been good with words, always better with action. He takes a step closer until he can feel Edge's warmth, close enough to touch. Edge holds his gaze. If he has read wrongly, he is like to find himself filleted by ninja blade, so Kain is slow--very slow--to raise his left hand, curl it behind Edge's neck without quite touching, and lean in until their lips touch. Edge's mouth is warm, the faint scrape of stubble sharp against Kain's lip, and he holds stock-still for a long moment before he digs his hands into Kain's hair, thoroughly disarranging the formal court braid, and yanks Kain full against him, biting sharply at Kain's lower lip and turning to shove him against a tree, where he pins him with more kisses, with his nails sharp on Kain's scalp, with the warm weight of him.
"Is even this a competition with you?" Kain asks, gasping for breath, when Edge finally releases his mouth and starts nipping his way along Kain's jaw.
Edge pauses, then looks up at him, eyes dancing. "Last one naked has to--"
Kain hastens to silence him in the most efficient--and pleasant--way, but they are both laughing as they fall into the sun-warmed grass in a tangle of limbs.
Edge/Kain, PG, "Race to a Kiss"
Kain looks up to find Edge lurking in the shadows, arms crossed. In his dark clothes and silent shoes he is scarcely perceptible beyond the dense afternoon sunlight that streams into the hall. Kain looks around at the members of the Eblanese delegation mingling with those of the Baronian court, then looks back. Edge shrugs impatiently.
"I'm bored, you're restless, and neither of us is required for this. Let's get out of here."
"This is in your honor," Kain points out.
"Yeah, I'm duly honored, I said so, and now a bunch of people who actually run my kingdom are going to talk to the people who actually run yours, and eventually Cecil and I will be handed pieces of parchment to sign, and in the meantime, my presence is not required." Edge straightens and unfolds his arms. "I can make it a royal command."
Kain just stares at him.
"I hate that you're as good at that as Gramps is," Edge says, and then his voice takes on a wheedling edge. "You're not doing a very good job of pretending to have a good time."
If Kain learned anything at all on their journey, it is that Edge's stubbornness rivals Cecil's, albeit in a more talkative way. If nothing else, it would behoove him to ensure the King of Eblan does not wander where he ought not and come to harm. He sighs and turns to face Edge fully. "Very well."
"Any reason we can't go outside castle walls?" Edge asks as they walk, not quite shoulder to shoulder, to the exit.
"I suppose not, although Your Majesty should--"
"My majesty is not planning on bringing guards. If you can't keep me safe, what the hell will they do?" Edge keeps walking as though his words have not nearly rooted Kain's feet to the stone floor. He shakes his head and hurries to catch up.
"What did Your Majesty have in mind?" Kain asks when he draws even with the ninja again.
"To start, for you to call me by my name, not my title," Edge says. "To continue.....wanna race?"
Kain blinks. "What?"
"Race. When two or more people run from a starting point to an ending point and see who arrives first?"
"I know what a race is, Your--" He cuts himself off at the eloquent raised eyebrow above the ninja mask. "Edge."
"So let's have one."
"Do you only propose contests you are certain of winning?" As soon as the words are out, Kain winces. He knows better, has been trained better, and whether or not Edge is a friend it is not an appropriate way to speak to a monarch.
"Certainly not," Edge says. "It's no fun if there's no competition."
Kain waits.
Edge sighs. "I'll give you a head start," he offers.
Edge has settled on something he wants to do, and there is no point in arguing. Kain nods assent and Edge whoops loudly enough to draw the attention of the guardsmen at the gate. When they look, he waves cheerfully and strolls across the courtyard to the gate.
"His Majesty desires a walk," Kain says when the guards look to him for direction.
The elder of them frowns, then clearly decides that this is a problem to be handled farther up the chain of command than he is--specifically, by Kain--and waves them through. It is, truthfully, a beautiful day to be outside, with the scent of sun-warmed grass and a cooling breeze to keep the summer's day from becoming oppressive. Kain rolls his shoulders and draws a deep breath. Formal affairs put him on high alert, reminding him of Golbez, and he endures them for Cecil and Rosa's sakes but is never glad of them.
He wonders if Edge knows that.
Edge wanders along the castle wall, avoiding the road that leads into Baron city proper, his eyes narrowed as he surveys the expanse of cleared land between the castle and the forest. "Alright," Edge says abruptly. "From the post there--" He points at a marker for the guards' rounds--"to that oak with the lightning scar there." His arm swings to point at the forest, perhaps a mile distant.
Kain is glad he was not required to wear ceremonial armor to the reception. He wiggles his toes inside his boots. They should do well enough.
"No jumping for you," Edge continues, "and no ninjutsu for me. And since you're more of the muscled stalwart type, I'll give you a thirty-second head start."
Kain only barely contains the urge to splutter and only because it will serve only to encourage Edge. When he has control of himself, he looks at Edge, w ho looks mildly disappointed. "Accepted,," he says.
He can tell Edge is smiling by the crinkling lines at the corners of his eyes. "On my mark," Edge says, strolling toward the post. Kain lines up with him and looks ahead to the goal.
"Ready," Edge says, and lets a pause spin out to a length of pointless drama. "Mark!"
Kain takes off running, the grass thick and cushiony beneath his feet, and counts the seconds in his head. He hears Edge's footsteps behind him right on time, and ducks his head to push himself harder. He has kept in good trim since his return from Mt. Ordeals, but he was never especially fast; Dragoons are, as Edge mockingly noted, a heavy-armor profession, and stamina is more important than speed for them. (He dares not think what Edge would make of that fact.) He hears footsteps drawing closer even as he approaches the forest, and he knows that Edge is choosing to let him hear his approach; he has seen Edge run in silence over sand and gravel to strike an enemy. He sees it for a courtesy, and he is nearly to the trees--
A dark blur whips past him, reaching the storm-split oak when he has several strides to go. He does not slacken his pace, more for pride than anything, and draws to a halt in the cool shade of the trees, turning back to the goal. Edge is breathing deeply but not harshly, fists resting on his hips. He has pulled off the ninja mask and his face is flushed with effort.
"So, not enough of a head start then," Edge says as Kain comes within reach.
"Was that not your intent?"
"Well, I accomplished my goal," Edge says, "which was to get you out of that room and out of your own head." Kain can tell he does not control his expression well enough, because Edge shrugs. "You were standing there like you'd been lashed to a spear to keep upright and trying not to curl in on yourself. Clearly you were miserable. Since, as I've said, there was no point to either of us being in there, I figured I'd give you something better to do."
The welling of gratitude surprises him. He swallows hard. "Your care is appreciated," he says, and it is too formal, but his throat is too tight for more.
"Care," Edge muses aloud, and his gaze is too sharp, sees too much. "That's a way to put it."
He has never been good with words, always better with action. He takes a step closer until he can feel Edge's warmth, close enough to touch. Edge holds his gaze. If he has read wrongly, he is like to find himself filleted by ninja blade, so Kain is slow--very slow--to raise his left hand, curl it behind Edge's neck without quite touching, and lean in until their lips touch. Edge's mouth is warm, the faint scrape of stubble sharp against Kain's lip, and he holds stock-still for a long moment before he digs his hands into Kain's hair, thoroughly disarranging the formal court braid, and yanks Kain full against him, biting sharply at Kain's lower lip and turning to shove him against a tree, where he pins him with more kisses, with his nails sharp on Kain's scalp, with the warm weight of him.
"Is even this a competition with you?" Kain asks, gasping for breath, when Edge finally releases his mouth and starts nipping his way along Kain's jaw.
Edge pauses, then looks up at him, eyes dancing. "Last one naked has to--"
Kain hastens to silence him in the most efficient--and pleasant--way, but they are both laughing as they fall into the sun-warmed grass in a tangle of limbs.