Series: On Dragon's Wings||Title: Proper Behavior||Chapter: Farewell
Characters: Mizael, Alit, & Leonius
Chapters: 6-8||Words: 1,705||Total: 9,693
Genre: Friendship||Rated: PG-13
Challenge: Diversity Writing, YGO Zexal Aus, section I10, multichap with exactly 8 chapters
Notes: This takes place in the same world as Ring The Dinner Bell, Face of Death, and Diamond of the North, and occurs after Mizael left Vector's kingdom.
Summary: Mizael's evening rest is interrupted by two strangers who think they've seen a dragon. Really. A dragon. How silly.
He didn't get one of the favored seats to view the combat from. No, by their laws he was a convicted criminal and this was simply the King being unutterably kind to him before his exile commenced.
Exile. As if that meant anything to a dragon who flew where the wind called and treasure sang a song only he could hear. He might avoid this place for a generation or two out of courtesy, but when he chose to return, he would do so, and there would be nothing to stop him.
But he had said as much to them already and if they did not understand, then it wasn't his problem. Instead, he made himself as comfortable as he could and prepared for the show.
"This is going to be magnificent!" He could hear other spectators all around talking to one another about what they expected to see. Many of them had seen Alit fight before, as well as who his opponent was.
No one had yet told Mizael that little fact: who Alit would be fighting. A clear favorite but no one uttered a name. This other fighter did get spoken of in terms of awe, however. Mizael suspected from that alone that this would be a fight worth viewing.
He did not fight in his human form often; he seldom needed to. Not when a dragon's power dwarfed that of a human. But after all of his recent experiences, he began to wonder if doing so might not be such a bad idea. His hoard held armor and weaponry of the finest quality, so he could outfit himself easily enough.
Finding someone who could teach him would be the difficult part. But he knew enough people to know he could do this. It would take time and that was something a dragon had in abundance.
Trumpets blared. Mizael had been seated so he couldn't get a good view of where King Leonius would be watching the spectable, but he presumed that His Majesty would not miss his lover once more dominating upon the sands.
He did have a good view of the arena itself, as did the two guards now officially assigned to watch over him while Alit did battle. From the looks they kept sending his way, they'd heard what the gladiator said about no need for a guard. They looked as if they wouldn't have been surprised in the slightest if he'd changed form and taken off at once.
A dragon did have manners. To whatever degree he chose to use them.
Cheers arose now, along with more fanfares, and now he saw Alit striding across the sands, as well as another figure from another direction, harder to see even for him, with the angle of the sun. Alit waved at the crowd, his cape billowing in the breeze, his smile bright and energetic. The crowd cried his name, bright and cheerful.
Many of the spectators would've sworn that Alit looked right at them. Mizael met Alit's gaze head-on and nodded to him. They might never see each other again after this but today, Mizael recognized a friend.
Between one breath and the next, the fight began. Alit's opponent swung his blade with enough strength to split rock in two, not that it did any good. Alit dodged, cape swirling in the breeze, putting space in between the two of them. The other fighter circled, sword pointed toward the fist-fighter, whose grin reflected the sun as well as any mirror might.
Back and forth the two of them went, neither of them making much headway against the other, but showing the most intense skill and pride that they possibly could. Sweat gleamed off Alit's skin, along with a tiny trickle of blood from one manuver where he'd misjudged his dodge just a fraction and ended up losing first blood.
Mizael thought the two of them were talking about something; he could see their lips moving, but the roar of the crowd kept him from hearing what it was. To be fair, he knew he wasn't trying all that hard. He just enjoyed seeing two fighters having it out with one another, clearly loving what they were doing so very much.
Alit dodged forward, knocking the sword out of the way with one hand, and slamming the other at his opponent's stomach as quick as lightning, before he backflipped out of the way, the other stumbling back, finding it difficult to breathe.
Mizael tensed; was this going to be the end of the fight? The armored warrior shook his head, taking a step back to reorient himself, then started after Alit again. Mizael knew for certain he was saying something, and he found himself wondering just what it was. Did they know each other? Respected rivals? Even friends when not fighting one another?
Perhaps, perhaps not. But clearly the spectators knew who this was, and the cheers were as loud for one as they were for the other. Mizael looked forward to seeing for himself when the battle ended.
When it did end, it was so quick that Mizael almost missed it. The swordsman charged, ducking Alit's well-placed fist by the barest of breadths, only to find himself moving right into position for the other one to slam into him: even as his own sword rested on Alit's chin.
Absolute stillness reigned over the arena for a span measured in heartbeats. Then an explosion of cheers rang out, and Mizael did not keep his voice from it. He'd seen many skilled warriors over his years, but few who could compare to what he'd seen this time.
The two warriors gazed at one another, pride and respect in every line of their mutually exhausted bodies. Then slowly, the warrior slid his helmet off of his head, and Mizael saw who it was. His lips curved up quietly.
I see. This city had little to worry itself about, with their King such a skilled warrior. He knew very well that there was a large difference between fighting in an arena and fighting on a battlefield, but they knew what they were doing.
By the time Mizael could speak to both of them, they'd both had time to wash and change. The guards remained at his back, but he ignored them in favor of speaking to Alit and Leonius.
"You're both very good at what you do," he said, arms crossed over his chest. He'd never really liked having arms that didn't have scales on them. He couldn't figure out what to do with them. This would do for now. "Thank you for allowing me to see your skills." The manners of a dragon were always perfect. If he so chose to use them.
Alit shrugged and grinned. "Hey, we enjoyed ourselves. We always do." He nudged Leonius with his elbow. "Watch where you're swinging that thing next time. You almost actually hurt me."
Leonius trailed one finger down the bandaged cut, the side of his mouth quirking up. "I think this counts as 'hurt', if only a little."
"You're joking, aren't you?" Alit sniffed, tossing his head back. "I've had worse cuts having breakfast."
Leonius started to say something else, before his eyes slid over to Mizael, and he cleared his throat instead. "Your exile begins at dawn," he reminded the dragon. "Perhaps we will be able to cross paths somewhere else."
Mizael raised his head, meeting the king's gaze without fear. "Perhaps. As I told you once, a dragon will live longer than a human, and what is once a dragon's will always be a dragon's. I can be patient."
Leonius studied him for a long silent time before he nodded. "As you wish, then."
Alit let out a long sigh. "I kinda wish you could stick around. I'd like to see what it's like to spar with a dragon."
"Dragons do not spar like that," Mizael told him, a small smile fluttering on the edges of his lips, one that felt more human than dragon. "We are not fighters like humans."
He wouldn't tell them of his desire to learn human ways of fighting. Some things were best kept to oneself.
"Too bad." Alit stretched, rubbing one shoulder. "Well, it's almost sundown, which means it's almost time to eat." He threw a quick look at Mizael. "Still want the meat as raw as you can get it?"
Mizael bared his teeth. It wasn't a smile but it wasn't a threat, either. A reminder, perhaps, of what he was. He suspected Alit sometimes forgot.
"Would you care to see how a dragon eats? If you can spare the live meat, that is."
Alit tilted his head, then looked at his king. Leonius regarded Mizael one more time.
"I think that we can." He issued orders to a passing servant to that effect and Mizael could not help but truly smile. In his opinion, this was the greatest gift that could be given to him before his departure: a true dragon's meal.
Three healthy cattle, each one well-fed and originally slated to be slaughtered and roasted for the king's table, lowed and tossed their heads, led out to a broad field just outside the city gates. More people than a handful of guards, Alit, and Leonius gathered to watch. Rumor spread, as rumor did, that a most amazing sight would be seen. Thanks to the guards and the sorcerers, some even knew a dragon would be involved.
Mizael did not disappoint them. The moment that the cattleherders stepped out of the way, he resumed his true form, stretching his wings to their fullest, flexing his claws. More than one person screamed and fled at the sight, but he paid no mind to them. Instead, he leaped on the first of the bulls and began his dinner.
"I'm not sure if I have much of an appetite now," Alit muttered to Leo. Leo could not help but agree. Watching a dragon eat wasn't a pleasant sight.
But soon enough Mizael would be gone, and Alit had already made up his mind to miss the guy. So he enjoyed his company while he was there, and hope that one day they would meet again.
To Be Continued
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