Disclaimer: Most of the characters represented here are property of SquareEnix. I'm just borrowing them for a little while to appease the muses who have taken me hostage. This story is homo-erotic in nature: if you're not a fan of yaoi/slash or you're too young to read this, turn back before it's too late.

---

"In here," Albel said, his head turned to the side slightly so his voice carried over his shoulder to the youth behind him as he opened the door leading into the Nox Estate. Fortunately, before the servant had left for the night, he'd banked the fire to ensure it would still be burning strongly when the swordsman returned home.

Fayt looked around as he stepped inside, pulling his coat even tighter around his shoulders. "Wow… this place is huge."

Albel snorted and strode across the main room to the fireplace, shedding his heavy robe to toss it over a chair. "What? You thought I lived in a hovel? Hardly."

"No… I guess I just wasn't expecting this," the teenager said softly, following in the other man's steps to get closer to the source of warmth in the room.

"This estate has been in the Nox family for generations," Albel informed his not-so-welcome guest before sitting on the floor in front of the fire. He pried the small warming pack from the joint of the artificial arm and held it out to Fayt.

His hand was pushed back towards him, the object still in his grasp. "Keep it for now. It's still good for a few more hours and you need it more than I do."

"What is it with you and that damn generosity of yours," Albel asked in irritation.

Fayt sighed and looked down at the swordsman before putting a box on the floor next to his feet. "You just don't get it, do you?"

"That you're a sentimental idiot? I understood that very early on, fool."

Settling down next to Albel, the teen opened his coat, but didn't pull his arms out of it. "Sentiments aren't weakness, Albel. Neither is caring for someone, or being worried about them. To you, friends are either a crutch or a weapon to use against the enemy. To me, friends are precious… a treasure to protect and cherish."

"Such stupid thinking will lead to your destruction."

"Maybe," Fayt said thoughtfully. "But, isn't it better to die from a cause of your choosing than to die for no reason at all?" He shook his head silently after that and pushed the box towards Albel. "That's your present."

Albel gave the wrapped package a suspicious look, hesitant to touch it let alone open it. He knew Fayt, knew what the boy was and wasn't capable of. He knew that, in all likelihood, the box and its contents were non-threatening. The problem wasn't what was inside; the problem was that opening it, even just out of curiosity, would lend credence to the notion that the two of them were friends.

The younger man's green eyes were expectant, silently urging. Albel felt the weight of that gaze while his own remained fixed on the brightly wrapped gift box and the ornate ruby red silk bow that wound around it. He didn't reach for it. "Why?"

Fayt picked up the meaning of the single word and answered with a soft voice. "Because, Albel, regardless of what happens in the future, I do care about you. Even if it's just temporary, what matters is now. I wanted to give you something before any of that could change."

"How is it… that you're the only person who believes in me?" The question was out before the swordsman could censor it and he gave himself a mental kick at the slip.

"The reason for that is the fact I don't really give a damn what other people say about you," Fayt answered in a solemn voice. "People called you 'wicked' but, regardless of your reputation, you didn't go out of your way to slaughter innocents. No matter how you rationalized it, you have a sense of honor that few people I know could maintain. You're no more wicked than the universe around us."

Albel said nothing for long minutes after that heartfelt response. Just what could he say? The boy was right. "It seems you know me too well," he whispered, his voice as serious as the silence that previously reigned between them.

"I paid attention," Fayt responded jovially. "Friends do that, you know."

"No, I don't. I've never had any… friends." Tentatively, Albel's right hand reached out, his long fingers curling around one edge of the gift to draw it close. He almost felt as if he were moving in a daze. A part of his mind screamed at him, commanded and then begged him to stop. Once his fingers moved to the package, however, Albel couldn't stop as he slowly worked on opening it. The wrapping fell away, revealing a featureless box underneath.

All the while, he felt Fayt's eyes on him. The anticipation and anxiety radiated out from the younger man in waves. Was it really so important to the boy that Albel accept a gift from him? How could something so minuscule mean so much?

He hesitated before working on the box itself. Up until now, the only gift he'd ever gotten since the death of his father had been from the king. How strange that he should even be wearing that gift while opening this one. Albel's hands finally worked at the box, prying it open, revealing the ornate single-edged blade inside.

The workmanship of the weapon was obvious: it was a flawless masterpiece of skill and talent. Albel lifted it from its confinement, his eyes intent on his examination. Those scarlet orbs traveled the entire length of the blade, looking for any imperfections. The roaming gaze halted at the maker's mark close to the tang of the blade.

He knew that mark quite well. It was Fayt's mark. This… foolish, stupid boy had crafted the weapon himself. To make it worse, he'd traveled across the void of space to bring it to Albel.

In a single, fluid motion, Albel lifted the accompanying scabbard and sheathed the blade. "It's magnificent," he said without looking at the younger man.

"Merry Christmas, Albel."

The swordsman snorted and flicked his gaze towards Fayt. "I don't believe in stupid sentiments such as Mid-Winter Festivals or… some odd holiday from a world I've never even seen."

Fayt offered back a relieved smile and gave Albel's shoulder a slight shove. "Sheesh. Just say 'thank you' and stop being a jerk."

Instead of either one, Albel rose to his feet, the weapon carried in his artificial hand. "Wait here," he said as the only explanation of his action before walking up the stairs to the master bedroom. The new sword was settled reverently on the dressing table so he could rummage through one of the drawers. It took longer than he expected to find something suitable before he left again to rejoin the teenager.

When he reached the doorway of the main room, he paused to look at Fayt's back. His keen sense of observation kicked in then. There was something wrong. It wasn't physical, but likely mental. The way Fayt's shoulders sagged just slightly, as though they bore a heavier weight than usual. It made Albel doubt the youth's reason for being on Elicoor.

"Hey, fool. Think fast!" He tossed the item in his hand at the back of the blue head. For some reason, it pleased Albel when the youth actually managed to catch the object before it did harm. "I heard somewhere that it was bad luck to receive a blade as a gift without giving something back in return," he said in excuse for this odd behavior.

He watched as Fayt turned the cuff bracelet over in his hand. The etchings were precise, if seemingly random. The swordsman had paid well for the trinket, and then never bothered wearing it. Hell, it had been so long, Albel couldn't even remember where he'd bought it.

The green gaze turned up, the surprise clear in their depths as they regarded the swordsman. "Thank you."

"It's late," Albel said, his gaze moving to the windowpane and the snow that was falling heavily outside. "Get up and follow me." The teenager was led to the bedroom closest to Albel's on the second floor. The chamber itself hadn't seen use in quite some time since the commander had never entertained guests before. Though it had remained empty for so long, there wasn't a single speck of dust anywhere.

"You can use this room," Albel said, again not looking at the young man beside him. "It won't surprise me if my servant isn't able to get here in the morning. There is food, but we both know I can't cook worth a damn, so you'll have to fend for yourself."

"That's fine," Fayt told him, likely still surprised at this gesture of welcome.

---

It was as the commander had thought the next morning; his servant was unable to get to the estate. Fortunately, Fayt was a reasonable cook so neither of them went hungry. While there wasn't really a lot to work with in the cupboards and pantry, there was enough.

Albel frowned at the sheer depth of the snow that bordered around them, hemming them in. However, he made no moves to step outside and clear it away. The act was too much effort in his eyes and, he told himself, so long as it was there he had the perfect excuse to not be present for the rest of His Majesty's stupid celebration.

His guest brought him a cup of hot tea, which Albel accepted silently. His flesh hand was thankful for the warmth and each sip spread more of the same through his chilled body. Idly, he wondered just how long he was going to have to endure Nature's form of house arrest.

"It came down pretty solid last night, huh?"

"We're still close to Airyglyph," Albel said, punctuating his words with another sip. "More often than not, we share their bad weather." His crimson gaze briefly moved to the youth next to him at the window before returning to the blanket of white outside. "I'll have to carve a path through to the gate later today so we can get extra supplies."

Fayt nodded, looking over at the slim form standing beside him. "Yeah. More snow's going to come down tonight and tomorrow. Likely, it'll be this bad or worse all week."

"Did your strange technology tell you that?" asked Albel, who turned to face the azure-haired teen.

"Among other things." Fayt leaned against the wall close to the window, closing his eyes as he continued to sip his tea.

The boy looked tired, weary, and again Albel wondered just why the young man had returned to Elicoor. "You didn't come here just for some stupid holiday," he said at last.

Green eyes reopening, Fayt looked up at the other man and sighed. "Would you believe me if I said I've been bored?"

Albel snorted, his eyes boring into the youth. "Not the whole truth, but not a whole lie, either." The intense stare lasted only seconds longer than the observation before the scarlet eyes went back to gazing out the window.

"I… I just need some time to think, that's all," Fayt said softly, looking down into his cup.

"It's not like I really give a damn, just so long as your being here isn't the beginning of another catastrophe." The swordsman looked at Fayt again, the frown he'd had before reasserting itself. "No one would think to look for you here, right? I'm not going to get bothered by that loathsome blond moron, am I?"

Shaking his head, the teen lifted his gaze again. "No, I didn't tell Cliff where I was going. Besides, I think the last place he'd think to look for me would be here."

"I don't know," Albel commented lowly, "you spent a lot of time on this world. It doesn't take an idiot to tell you've gotten comfortable here."

"That's not what I meant," Fayt responded. "You don't exactly come across as a nurturing kind of person. He'd have no reason to think I'd be staying with you."

"I don't coddle worthless maggots. Besides," Albel looked at the young man sternly, "if you get on my nerves too much, I'll just kill you and be done with it." He turned to take his empty cup back to the kitchen and get a refill of tea.

Fayt nodded slightly. "Thanks, Albel."

The tone, the words, the sincerity behind it… These things caused a faint twinge within the chest of the commander of the Black Brigade and he paused in mid-step to toss his scarlet gaze over his shoulder. "You wouldn't be the first person who ever required sanctuary, Fayt. I don't know if you can find it here, around me, but you're free to do as you please." He heard a sound of surprise and nodded.

"Don't think you'll be staying here for free, though. I can tell by looking at you that you've started getting soft. I want you at your peak for our rematch."

The youth smiled at him, his face relieved. "Understood."

---

Bright sunlight filtered through the grand window in Albel's bedchamber as he brushed out his loose hair. While he preferred it wrapped, there were times when the bindings would annoy him. Since he wasn't expecting to be finding battle any time soon, he didn't see the harm in leaving it down this morning.

Albel had taken advantage of the chance to get a few extra hours sleep. In fact, he'd only woken when he did because of Fayt's pathetic attempt at trying to stealthily slip past his door and down the hall. He'd just belted his sarong in place when a peculiar noise brought his attention to the window. The young commander let his gaze drift around outside until they fixed on the teen aged man who was his guest.

"That idiot," he hissed, his eyes widening slightly. Albel whirled around, snatching up his sword as he hastened his way from the chamber to the hall outside. Planting his hand, he threw his weight over the railing to the stairs, landing cat-like on the first floor, before resuming his fast stride.

Seconds later, he burst through the door that led out behind the main household. His breath crystallized in the air and his boots crunched on the snow as he ran, moving almost desperately in the direction of where he'd seen Fayt from his vantage point above. "You fool!" His shouting voice carried across the grounds to the blue-haired youth. "Get away from it now!"

Just then, the fledgling dragon that Fayt had been approaching lifted up on its hind legs, wings spreading out, a menacing growl issuing from its throat. The young man fell back and started scooting through the snow, but the dragonet was now advancing on him.

"Aaaah…"

Albel kept his momentum going, leaping over Fayt's head agilely, his artificial battle-arm coming up in a defensive position. There was an impact, his body halting abruptly, and then he heard the unmistakable crunch of teeth grinding down on metal. "Damn you," the swordsman swore, tugging at his arm so he could try and rip it free of the beast's maw.

The young man's voice rose up behind him. "Albel!" He felt Fayt's fingers grip his shoulder and he shook them off violently.

"Get out of here," he grunted out, trying to keep his footing as the fledgling began jerking his trapped arm from side-to-side. Something wrenched and he knew that it was the juncture point between his flesh and the artificial limb. Albel narrowed his gaze, withdrawing a little into himself, ignoring the strain against his shoulder as his other hand began to glow.

Seconds later, the empowered palm came forward, right into the dragon's face. At that moment, a barrage of ice spikes shot forth, making the creature shriek in pain and let loose its grip. Dark ichor seeped from its wounds as it decided it wasn't nearly hungry enough to keep attacking the swordsman. The Ice Needle spell had succeeded in driving the dragon youngling away.

When he was sure it was gone, Albel dropped to one knee, his hand reaching up to help support the strained shoulder. Sticky warmth oozed between his fingers to drip out onto the snow underneath. With a curse, Albel disconnected the ruined limb and threw it away from him.

"You're bleeding!"

Albel looked up into Fayt's worried face. "I don't need you to tell me that, fool." He was breathless, his heart pounding, the sound of blood rushing in his ears. The youth just looked down at him, a stunned expression on his face. With a surge of anger, Albel's foot swept out and smacked into the teen's ankles, dropping him to his backside in front of the swordsman.

"What the hell were you thinking, you idiot?! Wild dragons, of any age, are not like puppies or kittens… they're not friendly or cute. They're hungry and dangerous. That whelp could have ripped you to ribbons and devoured you in mere minutes."

Getting his feet under him, Albel stood over Fayt, his face contorted in fury. "If you want to die, I'll oblige you… but only after I get my rematch. Until then, I won't tolerate you doing stupid things like trying to get yourself killed."

Fayt's head fell forward in shame under the intensity of Albel's anger and the trembling that overtook his body wasn't from the cold weather. "I-I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Albel said, his voice stern. "Get inside so you don't freeze to death."

---

It was several hours into evening, after a doctor had already been and gone, before Fayt finally ventured from the bedchamber he'd been given. Albel sat in the main room, close to the fire, reading a book on military tactics. He was fully aware of the youth standing in the doorway. The book went into his lap as the swordsman reached for a goblet of wine on the table nearby.

"Just how long are you going to lurk over there?" he asked then sipped from the chalice before replacing it.

The young man shuffled into the room, his shoulders slumped as if in defeat, and came to a stop next to Albel's overstuffed chair. "I'm sorry… about your arm…"

"Hmph. Do I look upset about it?" Albel asked, turning his face up so his guest could see him clearly. "I've strained the joint before. It's healed already, I'm just supposed to let it get a day or so of rest." The swordsman watched Fayt chew his lower lip, worry at it, and by the look of things, it wasn't the first time since the incident that morning.

"If you've got something else to say, out with it. I can't read your mind."

"Thanks… for saving my life," came the hoarse whisper.

Albel reached up with his right hand, catching hold of Fayt's shirt to jerk him down so they were face-to-face. The teen hit his knees with a yelp, the startled green eyes watching the young commander as he shifted closer. When he spoke, Albel's voice was low-pitched and almost… comforting.

"I don't know what's happened since you were last here," he started, his eyes meeting and holding Fayt's. "But, you came here to escape whatever it is that's bothering you. I won't pretend to know what you're going through." Albel had a feeling he was going to regret his next words, but that was the part of him that was always a suspicious bastard. The young man needed some kind of comforting gesture, but there was only one he was capable of giving at the moment.

"All I can do, as your… friend, is give you my protection until you work it out for yourself."

Fayt's eyes widened slightly and a weak smile formed as the meaning behind the words sank in. He pressed his face against Albel's lean-muscled arm, relieved at what he'd just been told. "Albel… they want me to become a leader in the Federation…"

"Better you than me," the swordsman said, looking down at the top of the teen's head. "If you're not sure, then tell them no. They can't force you into anything you don't want to do."

"I just don't think I'm ready for something like that," came Fayt's muffled voice.

Albel sighed and shook his head. "Little fool," he said gently, almost like an endearment. "It takes more courage to resist that kind of pressure than it does to give in." He shifted his arm, silently urging the youth to look up at his face. "If they come looking for you, I won't let them have you. If you become a government leader then I miss my chance to prove who's better with a sword. Therefore, protecting you just happens to be in my best interests."

Taking up his chalice again, the commander drained the remainder of the wine inside. Before he could rise to refill it, the young man took the vessel from his hand. "I'll get for you," Fayt explained then moved to do just that.

"Anticipating my needs," Albel mused, leaning his cheek against his fist as he gave a smirk, "you might make a good servant."

There was a chuckle from the teen before he tossed out his retort. "You can draw your own bath, Lord Nox."

"Why you little maggot… You're fired."

Fayt glanced over his shoulder at the warrior, shifting the goblet of wine teasingly in his hand. "You want this or not?"

"Get yourself one while you're at it."

"I'm not legal to drink yet."

Albel snorted and reached out to accept the wine. "Perhaps elsewhere. You're more than old enough for spirits in Airyglyph." He looked at the youth over the rim of the goblet. "It'll help calm your nerves, but only in moderation. I don't want you drunk, just relaxed."

"You seem pretty calm to me," Fayt observed. "What do you need it for?"

"It eases the ache in my shoulder."

"… oh."

The younger man did, indeed, pour himself some of the wine before returning to Albel's chair and settling down near his legs. Silence extended between them, both contentedly sipping their wine in the comfortable warmth of the room. Neither spoke until the older man tossed the book he'd been reading into the fireplace with a disgusted snort.

"What'd you do that for?" Fayt asked in a sleepy voice, lifting his head from Albel's knee.

"I'm just demonstrating my opinion of the author," came the unperturbed response. "You've been asleep for at least an hour. Perhaps you should go to bed." Albel looked down at the upturned face of the youth. He wouldn't tell the teen how his hair had been tickling his skin or that, when attempting to shift the offending tendrils, his fingers were reluctant to abandon the silken strands. Nor would Albel say anything about how the younger man had turned into the brush of his fingertips much like an affection-starved cat.

"How come you're not tired?"

"I've more experience with wine and spirits. I know how to pace myself when imbibing. Not to mention, I only had one refill while you had four." Albel was amused slightly by the face that Fayt made in response to his answer. "If you can't get there on your own, I'll help you."

"But, I'm comfortable here," the youth argued, yawning.

"I'm sure you are, but my leg's starting to go numb." The warrior shifted, trying to get feeling back into his calf and thigh. Once Fayt had moved enough, Albel stood up and held his hand down to the younger man. "Come on."

Taking the offered hand, the teen allowed himself to be lifted to his feet but swayed dangerously, forcing Albel to catch him around the waist. "Careful. I don't need you taking us both down," he warned.

"Sorry."

"You apologize too damn much," Albel complained, half-dragging the younger man to the stairs. "If I want an apology from you, you'll be the first to know."

Fayt grew somewhat more helpful along the way, putting his feet under him with reasonable surety as they ascended to the next floor. "Why're you being so nice?"

"Likely, you won't remember the difference either way come morning, so abusing you isn't much fun right now." Albel lamented the fact that he'd only one usable arm, two would make it far easier to get the younger man moved. At Fayt's door, he let him go to open it, then looked down at the boy's face. "Sleep it off. We can deal with your hangover in the morning."

Nodding, the youth staggered into the room and fell across his bed. With a sigh, Albel closed the door before leaning against it in the hall. Fayt, without meaning to, had given the Black Brigade's commander much to think about indeed.