"I'm sorry… did you wait long?"
The voice came with a hand...warm, firm, and just slightly breathless..as it closed around Sion's wrist.
Sion turned.
There he was.
Darius.
Gone was the rigid armor, the polished insignia, the unmistakable bearing of the kingdom's commander. In its place stood a man dressed in simple, well-made garments—dark tunic, light cloak, practical boots. Nothing ostentatious, nothing that would draw undue attention.
And yet..
He still stood out.
Perhaps it was the way his shoulders held themselves, or the quiet strength in his stance. Or perhaps it was simply that he was… Darius.
His mask, too, was different.
Not identical, but close enough to Sion's that one might think it deliberate,similar shape, similar cut, as though chosen with quiet intent.
He looked… hurried.
There was a faint rise and fall to his chest, a slight disarray to his usually immaculate appearance.
He had run.
For a moment, Sion simply observed him.
Then—
"I don't know," Sion said lightly, tilting his head just enough for mischief to glint beneath the mask. "I was about to leave. I thought perhaps you didn't plan to show up."
It was subtle.
But effective.
Darius stilled.
And then...quite visibly...he deflated.
It was almost comical.
Like a great, dignified beast suddenly reduced to something softer, quieter… almost pitiful.
Sion nearly laughed.
Instead, he let the silence stretch just enough to savor it—then relented.
"It was a joke," he added, voice softer now. "I was about to buy food. I'm hungry."
Darius blinked, processing.
And then—
Color rose faintly to his ears.
"…I see."
There was a flicker of embarrassment, quickly masked, though not quite hidden.
"For many reasons," Sion noted inwardly, amused.
"Then—" Darius cleared his throat, straightening slightly, "let's go."
He turned just a bit too quickly, as if eager to move past the moment. "There are many stalls."
Sion followed, the faint curve of his lips can be seen for a moment.
The festival unfolded around them in waves of light and sound.
They passed through rows of stalls, each more vibrant than the last. Spiced meats sizzled over open flames, sweet confections glistened under lantern light, and drinks of every kind were poured freely into waiting hands.
Darius, it seemed, had only one intention.
To buy.
"Sion—this one."
"And this."
"And—perhaps that as well."
Each time, he placed something into Sion's hands before the latter could protest.
"Do you plan to buy everything?" Sion asked, eyeing the growing number of items in Darius's hands.
Darius stiffened slightly. "You said you were hungry."
"I didn't say I could eat an entire market."
"…We can take them home," Darius offered, completely serious.
Sion let out a soft huff of laughter. "You are impossible."
"And yet you accept it."
"That is because it would be rude not to," Sion replied smoothly.
Darius said nothing.
But there was the faintest hint of satisfaction in his silence.
They wandered further.
A stage had been set near the center, where performers enacted a play—an old tale of the gods, of Aureth's blessing and Velmira's descent among mortals. The actors wore grand masks, their movements exaggerated, their voices echoing across the crowd.
Later, an opera followed—voices rising in haunting harmony, telling stories of harvest, loss, and renewal.
Sion watched with quiet interest.
Darius watched Sion.
"Are you enjoying it?" Darius asked at one point.
Sion considered.
"…It's lively," he said at last.
Which, from him, was no small praise.
Darius nodded, as though that alone was enough.
Time passed unnoticed.
Until...
The music changed.
It began subtly, a shift in rhythm, a gathering of sound.
Then, all at once, it bloomed.
Bright. Lively. Irresistible.
The crowd responded almost instinctively.
The dance had begun.
It was not required, but few abstained. The plaza seemed to transform as people paired off, laughter rising as hands found hands, strangers becoming partners beneath the glow of lantern light.
Sion and Darius sat upon a bench at the edge of it all.
Sion watched.
But made no move.
"I suppose this is the part where everyone forgets themselves," he murmured.
Darius glanced at him. "You won't join?"
Sion shook his head lightly. "I never cared much for dancing. Even before."
Even when I was a prince.
The words remained unspoken.
Darius was quiet for a moment.
Then—
He stood.
And turned toward Sion.
For a brief instant, the world seemed to shift.
The lantern light caught against him just so, casting a soft glow along the edges of his form. The noise of the crowd faded....not entirely, but enough that it felt distant.
And then—
He extended his hand.
Toward Sion.
A simple gesture.
And yet, something about it… was not simple at all.
"Sion," he said.
Nothing more.
Sion looked at him.
At the offered hand.
At the quiet certainty in his stance.
And then—
He smiled.
A small thing.
Barely there.
"…You really are troublesome," he murmured, rising.
But he took the hand.
The dance was lively, structured yet free.
Partners faced one another, hands joined, stepping in rhythm to the music. There were turns—graceful, swift—where one would spin beneath the other's arm, only to return again. Steps forward, steps back, movements that mirrored and complemented, creating a seamless flow between two people moving as one.
It was not difficult.
But it required attention.
Awareness.
Trust.
Sion adapted quickly.
Of course he did.
There was a natural grace to him, a fluidity in his movements that made even unfamiliar steps seem effortless. Darius, though less practiced, matched him with steady precision, his strength lending stability to each motion.
They moved together.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
The world blurred at the edges.
The music carried them.
"…How did you recognize me?" Sion asked suddenly, his voice low, meant only for Darius.
He tilted his head slightly. "My hair is different. The mask as well."
Darius hesitated.
There were many answers he could give.
The truth..
Because you stand out. Always.
Because even when you were Prince Caelum, you could not be overlooked.
Because I have never once mistaken you for anyone else.
But—
"…I trusted my instincts," he said instead.
Sion let out a soft, amused sound. "Is that so?"
Darius met his gaze.
"You may not know this," he said quietly, "but I know you more than you think."
Sion stilled.
Just for a moment.
Something in his expression shifted—subtle, fleeting.
The music continued.
The dance went on.
But for that brief instant...
It felt as though time had paused.
And then—
The pattern changed.
It was part of the dance.
At a certain point, partners would shift.
Hands released.
New ones taken.
A seamless exchange, practiced and expected.
Sion's hand slipped from Darius's.
Another took its place.
Darius turned—
—and found himself facing a familiar figure.
"Well," the man said lightly, a hint of amusement in his tone. "It's been a while."
Darius's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Arch."
The recognition was immediate.
Arch inclined his head just slightly, the gesture polite, though his eyes gleamed with quiet interest behind his mask.
"And here I thought the commander had no time for festivals."
Darius did not respond.
His gaze had already shifted.
Searching across the moving crowd.
To where Sion had gone.
And there—
A flash of gold.Familiar and Unmistakable.
Blonde hair, catching the lantern light.
The guild master,dancing far too close with Sion.
Darius stilled.
The music played on.
But something, deep within him
shifted.