(AN: This is a re-post from AO3, where I am listed as neptunedemon. I'll post all three chapters of this story tonight. If you enjoy it, please consider leaving me kudos over there, too! TY)

He would catch him tonight.

Ah, yes. It would be simple.

He clutched the knife against his leg as lay in his bed and thought of the delight he would relish in upon his heroism. The prince to capture a thief of his own accord! The kingdom would long for no other proof of his worthiness of the throne after this. Long years had dwindled by with treasures and gold disappearing from the castle; there was plenty of these, of course, that the losing of some didn't stir many, and it had been assumed miscalculation and forgetfulness were the culprits.

After all, the staff were esteemed. The royals were – well, royal. Axel had fathomed thievery himself. He had made note of every item of value in the castle, and watched as week after week something from a room would be lost in the morning.

Starting at the end of the hall, for the past few months he had been paying attention, something had been taken from each adjacent room of the one before, leading down the hall. It happened every few days.

And his room was last on the list.

Axel eyed his door anxiously; the light of the hall leaked in at the bottom, and he watched for shadows to dip into the puddle of light to announce a visitor.

There was a sound. He froze.

Click – tap – ting.

Like metal against glass.

It was coming from the window. But was it not locked? For he never opened it. Or he couldn't remember doing so in years – meaning, though, he knew nothing of its locking for sure.

He listened as it creaked open, and the silence of his roomed was sucked through as the sounds of crickets and light gusts of wind poured in. It alarmed him even before he remembered his visitor – the noise was distracting, disarming.

But he focused. The light provided from his door permitted him to see a ghostly silhouette glide past the foot of his bed. He could hardly discern it from the figures of furniture and bedposts, and his eyes strained. The silhouette stopped, and a chill ran through him as he knew the thief's eyes were examining him. He held his breath and kept his eyes open only enough to allow a slim thread of vision.

The figure moved toward his vanity. Why yes! He had placed some unimportant jewelry there as bait.

Quietly as he could manage, Axel rose. His bed creaked in complaint of his weight adjustment, but the sounds from outside helped drown it out, and in one fluid motion he placed his feet on the ground and stood. His body shook slightly with the tightness of his muscles and the lack of breath he'd been taking, but he knew the adrenaline beginning to release would serve him well.

In three large strides, he cleared his room and grabbed the thief by the wrist. The thief gasped and dropped a necklace; Axel wrenched him into his body and closed an arm around his torso and the bends of his elbows. His frame was sleight and he was short. Axel easily had physical leverage over him. He pressed the side of his blade to his throat.

"Wait!" the voice whispered in protest.

"No," Axel hissed in his ear. "Are you not the one who has been stealing from my castle all these years?"

"I am! But let me explain."

Axel gripped him harder to him, and the thief's muscles reflexively tightened.

"I will call in the guards with a single shout, and then the kingdom will know. And you shall be put to death. You have lost."

Axel inhaled to yell out for a guard, but was promptly interrupted by his capture.

"The kingdom already knows. I can explain! Perhaps a fine prince would understand my pleas?"

Axel hesitated. The kingdom knew? Knew what? What was at stake?
He shook his head.

"You lie," he accused with a growl.

"I do not commit myself to injustices as that," the voice replied. "Let us have light, and look me in the eyes when I speak. I will not escape you if you hear my words."

"You speak as if you could if I refused!"

"Will you not hear me? Your surviving reputation demands it."

Axel pressed the side of the blade harder into the thief's throat, letting the coldness of the metal be a warning, and he felt his breath halt. "Do not speak so plainly, thief," he hissed. "You don't know me."

"I am sorry to offend. But please!"

Axel thought a moment. He should ignore the man. The notions he presented were slathered in trickery and games. Yet his curiosity, he knew for he knew himself so well, would carry with him to the grave.

It may be best to let the thief speak.

"Do you have a weapon?" Axel demanded.

The thief exhaled and his muscles loosened. "Only one, hitched to my belt on my right."

Axel felt him for it, misjudging his size several times and groping his torso and thigh instead. When his hand landed on the handle of a knife, he pulled it from its sheath, and now had two knives in one hand.

"This way," Axel asserted suddenly, pushing the thief forward. "I will light the lamp, and you may have your words. One attempt to escape, and the entire castle will be wakened."

"I do not doubt that would occur," said the thief, bumbling with him through the darkness. Axel wondered how the thief had eyes so accustomed to the dark to have seen about his room.

Not wanting to let his guard down completely until there was light, Axel switched the arm around the thief with the arm that held the knives. With his free arm, he reached into his drawer, found a match to strike, and lit his lamp. The sudden glow of the room hurt his eyes and brought the reality of the situation crashing down upon him in a wave of surprise. Here he held a thief in his arms, a thief he had caught, and he was about to let him plea his case.

He let go and stepped back quickly, knives defensively held out.

Slowly, the thief turned around.

Axel's soul was a constant blaze of adamancy and fire, but his heart was made of much lighter things. It fluttered hard to behold the thief. A beautiful young man, he was. He had hair the color of a sunset's glow and cheeks tinted to accommodate the frustration of the situation. His countenance was outright confident, and he stood straight and firm with the dignity no thief Axel had ever known possessed.

The thief seemed to be aware of Axel's bewitchment, but mistook it.

"I am young, I know. Let that not tempt you in finding my words less appealing."

Axel blinked and cleared his throat to cast away the delusions of his mind. "What is your name?"

The thief grinned. "I am Roxas."

"And have you not stolen from this castle, my home, for years?"

Again, Roxas grinned, and he did so in such a dignified way that Axel felt himself give slightly to the attraction of his features.

"I have. I take the riches the royal family hoards and disperse them to families in-debted mercilessly to tax collectors and to those whom cannot afford but a grain of rice."

"The royal family hoards none!" Axel exclaimed in offense. "Have those people no jobs? There is plenty of work."

Roxas shook his head, smiling amusedly about the room. Axel was uncomfortably aware of the golden and silvery decor it was filled with.

"A widow cannot work with five crying mouths at her feet. A man cannot work for his family when he has no working legs. And when the tax-collectors swear to have not collected the month's dues on their second visit of the week, there is no money left for even those who had saved enough."

Axel stared, wide-eyed and awestruck at the blunt accusations. "But my father, the king, has surely heard of anything like this?"

"Prince Axel," Roxas denoted, and his heart gave a squeeze as the syllables left his lips, "the royal family is selfish and cares not."

The magic left again. "That is near treason to claim! Have you no mind or manner?"

Roxas shrugged. "I am a bringer of justice to those who have earned it. I see no need for accommodations to my character when I make due by just that."

Axel opened his mouth to fire another defense, but Roxas interrupted. "Does MY person matter? Tell me what you feel to these claims. But think upon it first."

Axel narrowed his eyes at him. Roxas stood with his arms crossed, watching Axel with a scrutinizing gaze. He had everything to lose by revealing himself too easily. Perhaps, Axel thought, he should humor him for a while. Maybe something would come of it.

He walked across his room to the open window. Roxas rotated slowly to keep facing him.

He brushed the curtains aside and stared into the night. Distantly, across a river and beyond small clusters of forest, the weak lights of the villages twinkled. Buildings and shops spread for miles around, embedded in the hills and on forest edges and clustering tightly to rivers and streams. The night sky was clear, and the stars seemed to be reflected in the rolling land below.

If he listened closely, he thought he could hear the distant melody of nightlife: a combination of music and voices.

"If what you say is true," Axel started slowly, "then no one is truly happy with the royal family. And when I am king, if I remain ignorant, no one will remember me for anything but another selfish ruler."

"I am no prophet, but I would be inclined to agree."

But Axel struggled with a decision.

He turned and sighed. "I do not want to be forgotten. What would you recommend to make the kingdom at peace?" Roxas watched him closely. He didn't seem quite as joyous at this response of compliance as Axel assumed, though he could not comprehend why.

Axel began to grow uncomfortable under his long gaze. Several times Roxas opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it again. His eyes shifted from Axel to the window, where Axel still held the curtains apart. His gaze dipped into the wide expanse of starlit village.

"Okay," he said suddenly. "Why do you not come with me to the village tomorrow-day? And then you can see for yourself the townspeople."

Axel was offended. "Do you think I not traverse my own kingdom?"

Roxas grinned. "Can you truly say you have been to the hamlets bordering the northern forests? Or watched your people at the markets?"

Axel tried to interrupt, but Roxas continued, "How about the shanties home to more people than beds? Have you stayed beyond light falling to witness the way dark brings the evil out in men?"

"I will go with you," Axel interjected sternly. He did not desire to acquiesce the extent – or the lack thereof – of his firsthand accounts with the poor. "But how can I trust you?"

Roxas's expression was that of pleasant pondering, and Axel noticed again the fineness of his composure. But his attitude would not do – he thought his cause so noble, but Axel was hesitant to overlook his entitled manner to justify the hundreds of accounts of thievery. But that left him to wonder several things: one being, why was he so inclined to let this thief have his way? Was it the way he spoke plainly and confidently? Could it be his rhetoric caused him great enough disillusion to be fooled? Perhaps he found alluring the way the thief spoke to him as if they were on the same level. The notion of being taken advantage of by any of these means sat with Axel like something unpleasant in his stomach, and his rising anxiety begged of him to back out of his deal. He gripped the knives in his hand. This certainly would not do –

"Take this," Roxas spoke decidedly, and gently lifted something from around his neck and handed it to Axel.

Axel eyed it warily, for he did not want to be swayed now that he was following his own motives again. But an object at the end of the string glinted in the light of the lamp, and curiosity robbed his focus. He took the necklace.

The string was made of a thin leather band. The pendant at the end was an oyster shell in pristine condition; it was prettier than any of the grey, oily shells discarded from the castle kitchens. This one was pale with tints of green and pink. Around the rim of the shell, it had been carefully encrusted with small, nearly transparent jewels. It was quite lovely and ornate. But how was it to persuade his loyalty?

"That is my dearest possession, given to me by a friend of long ago. She is dead now. But I would trade it for the saving of all the people who have come to rely upon me."

Axel switched his gaze between Roxas and the pendant several times, debating the truth of this. A thief would surely be the most capable liar, but Axel felt no precognitive fear or hesitance beyond what he conjured up of his own will to give up this potential nonsense.

"This friend, what was her name?" Axel asked, eyeing Roxas carefully for any sign of deceit.

Roxas sighed heavily. "I can no longer remember. The burden the emptiness of a name to put to her face is something that I carry with me always."

Axel narrowed his eyes. How odd to not remember a name of someone you claimed to hold dear. "How did she die?"

Roxas's composure slipped gently from its previous rank, but he still held himself up. He closed his eyes and spoke carefully, as if the wrong words would shatter something Axel could not perceive. "Her family was poor with three sons and a daughter, and they sold her. And when I found the man who owned her, he had harmed her so badly she'd died."

Axel listened to the small anecdote in horror of the depravity of it. But he regained himself, and withdrew his extended hand that held the shell and placed it into his pocket. Roxas watched it disappear.

"You are clearly pained by this story. I will put forth faith that you are not simply an excellent performer, and I shall believe you."

Roxas looked eased some, and he regained his former assertive nature. "Tomorrow, after lunch. Say 2?"

Axel nodded, thinking idly of the excuses he would have to make for his own absence and where they should be directed. "And where?"

"Just beyond the royal property, perhaps."

"That will do."

Roxas glanced past Axel toward the window. "I will take my leave, then." Axel backed slowly from the space to give Roxas room to hoist himself out. With his head still inside the room, he shot Axel a smile that wasn't smug or mocking, but rather had the appearance of gratitude. "Thank you, Prince Axel, for bestowing this chance."

And then he was gone.

Axel wanted to run to the window and gaze upon what must be the incredible stunt of him scaling down the wall, but he stalled too long in hesitance of the act, and when he finally came to look over the ledge, there was nothing below but the barren, stony wall.

His body ached, and he only then realized the tension he had been in for so many minutes. Two knives were still firmly in his grip, and he set them on a nearby table and began to stretch out the tight muscles of his hand.

He had let a convict – perhaps a most-wanted person, if the castle knew – escape into the night, with promise of meeting him in solitude the day after. This was highly worth condemnation, but Axel tried to not think of the specifics of the punishments which he had earned. No one would know, and if it turned out he could not trust this Roxas person, then it mattered not any longer – for he had already fled into the night, and whatever fate awaited Axel was of his own doing.

He reached out for the window shutters to pull them close, and as he attempted this, he grasped the latch between the two doors that would lock them together. But he noticed, with a mixture of feelings he did not understand, that it was broken, and he had no choice but to settle on the notion that it had likely been broken a long, long time.