"Please," Phoenix whispered. "You didn't just stand by and watch me die. I am not going to watch you."
Miles remained silent. Even his eyelashes were white, now, and his face had turned nearly the color of fresh snow. The extent of the change was terrifying and made his blood look all the worse in contrast.
"Your kingdom needs you," Phoenix tried desperately. If the man cared about nothing but logic in this state, maybe he would respond to a reminder of the kingdom's laws. "You're the king, now, and—"
"The succession is clear. Mia Fey is next in line for the throne and has eyes for Conde Armando. Although he is not a major noble in his kingdom, their union would nevertheless improve trading ties." Miles took a step toward his heart. His wounds had stopped bleeding; they'd frozen solid, as hard as any scab. "I am not needed."
"I need you," Phoenix said, almost too softly to hear. "Please."
"I would give you some token of mine," Miles said without looking, "so that you might return with it to the castle and let them know that you did your duty. Unfortunately, I do not have any of my own belongings. I must only wish you the best."
"Please."
Miles turned and met his eyes, finally, but his expression was as flat as a frozen lake. "You have not failed me, Guard Wright. You have performed to your utmost capacity and have earned my respect. Thank you for your assistance with von Karma." He looked back at his heart, now colored only by a sliver of red within the sparkling diamond. "You are dismissed."
"No," Phoenix gasped, staggering. "No!" It can't end. Not like this. Not so close. "No," he said a final time, with fierce determination bleeding into sudden calm. He hadn't performed to his utmost capacity. Not yet.
His lips met the prince's again, painfully hard. This time, it would work. He clasped those smooth cheeks again and felt tears leak from below his closed eyelids. After one last beat to savor the moment, Phoenix let the remainder of Maya's spell flow into Miles' body. Before that release he'd felt cold in the northern air, but he hadn't known how much heat still lingered inside him. Without it, he'd opened the door of a snug cabin and walked out into a blizzard.
He lasted only a few seconds longer before he collapsed to the ice blocks below and, unable to think of anything but the pain, began to freeze. The cold hurt worse than hunger, worse than cuts taken during training. It was all-consuming, fiercely greedy, and burrowed into him further by the second. The scab on his cheek where his skin had torn felt drumskin-tight. Soon all of his skin was turning stiff like tanned leather, and needles pierced every inch of exposed flesh. Knowing he had little time left, and with just enough rational thought remaining to him, Phoenix turned his face up to watch the effects.
He could only hope his death wasn't for nothing.
Miles staggered as he had before, but this was far more intense than his reaction in the bedroom. He sank to his knees, scrabbling at his jacket like he was trying to tear it away, or perhaps the flesh below. Mouth open in a silent scream, he curled in on himself. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks and hit the ground as drops of diamond.
Diamond. "The h-heart," Phoenix gasped, shuddering. "G-get y-your—" The rest of the words wouldn't come. He'd taken a deep breath to push out his plea, and the shock of the cold air in his lungs felt like he was freezing solid from the inside.
Miles looked up, still weeping over the abruptly remembered pain of his father's murder, but his eyes weren't reddened from the effort. They were pure white from lid to lid. "Wright," he said in a tiny, surprised voice, like he'd forgotten Phoenix was there.
"H-h-heart," Phoenix managed. It would be the last word he ever said. He could feel his body locking up, and worse, the return of warmth inside him. The captain had warned him that this was how freezing to death would feel, back before he set out on his first winter campaign. At least he wouldn't die still feeling cold, even as his fingers turned black and his eyes froze in his skull. He hated the cold.
Miles gawked at him for another long second, then hurriedly sketched patterns in the air with his still-bare hands. He's getting the heart, Phoenix thought with a warm lassitude as he felt himself slip away. His body didn't feel cold at all, now. I did it. I did it. Protect the prince. He smiled as he let himself slip under. Protect the king.
"Are you all right?" Miles asked, pulling him to his feet. Phoenix was shocked to feel his body respond as smoothly as it ever had under Maya's spell.
Startled, he looked down at himself. This didn't appear to be some sort of hallucination as he walked away into the light; he was really alive and really felt better. "I'm fine," he said with confusion, patting himself down, and looked back at Miles. The sight of the man's white eyes freezing into solid ice made his chest lurch, and he shoved Miles toward the pedestal with no concern for the social ranks between them. "Heart!"
Nodding, Miles reached up and clasped his own gemstone heart firmly in his pure white hand. There was only a speck of ruby left, and although Phoenix felt sick at how close they'd come, there was still time to get that heart back inside to save his prince and king. "I moved the cold away from you," Miles explained as he studied the heart, then began to work at the buttons of his elaborate silver-trimmed jacket. Again with no concern for social impropriety, Phoenix attempted to help him undress, though his glove-clad hands offered more enthusiasm than assistance. "I could at least do that much for a man who worked so hard to save me."
"Thank you, Your Grace," Phoenix said in a tumble, "I appreciate it, you can tell me later. Hurry!"
Miles unfastened another button, but his fingers slowed as he worked. To Phoenix's horror, after that next button, they stopped entirely. When Pheonix tried to tackle the next fastening himself, Miles caught his hand. "Wait," Miles said as softly as a snowfall.
"Hurry!" Phoenix begged.
White lips curved in a gentle smile. "I can feel ice inside me forever, Phoenix Wright. I could last up here even with any magic gone." He took a deep breath; no steam emerged when he exhaled. "But to get my heart back and break von Karma's spell... I'm sure it would give that power up."
"It doesn't matter, no one cares if you have magic, but you have to hurry!"
"You care." Miles moved to touch Phoenix's cheek gently, but stopped before his now icy hand could tear away more skin. Phoenix shuddered at that realization of why fingers had stayed clear of his flesh, then tried to push the hand holding the heart into Miles Edgeworth's body like the remaining clothes weren't in the way. Miles continued, ignoring Phoenix's desperation, "You care because, without me holding off the cold... you'll die."
"No," Phoenix gasped as his prince's words sunk in. "No, you are not making that trade. I came here to save you! Don't... don't make me watch. Don't make me watch you... please."
"You won't have to watch," Miles agreed, and Phoenix moaned.
"No, that's not what I meant. Please. No." If only he could, Phoenix would rip Miles' magic away from him so that he'd freeze to death right then and there, and Miles would have no choice but to put his heart back in his chest. But he couldn't. There was nothing to set free like with Maya's spell, no clasp to release on a cloak. "This isn't how this is supposed to end."
"You did save me," Miles said, just before he returned Phoenix's kiss. It was so gentle and magic kept his lips merely chilly. Phoenix let out a broken sob when they parted. "Thank you for keeping me from being his weapon. To kill the people who trusted me to defend them would have been the cruelest fate of all. But this story he's woven has demanded a death at the end and..." With one deliberate motion, Miles re-fastened a button on his jacket. "I choose mine."
"No!" Phoenix shouted, but sudden wind pushed him back.
"I no longer belong there," Miles said, and let his diamond heart drop to the ground at his feet. It rolled away. "And I don't want to sit in the throne that my father should hold. I don't want to live every day thinking about his death. Live, Phoenix," he said, and swept his hand through the air. "The spell needs to be powered, but I've tied it off."
Phoenix could feel the spell tighten as securely as if it had been knotted. Ice erupted under him and he was startled to find himself sitting atop a new mount, clear and strong and tireless. "No!" he shouted as silvery reins bound him in place. The horse turned, angling them toward the gates. Its hooves rang like bells as it walked. Each step was faster than the last. "Please, stop!"
"Enjoy summer," Miles said. His voice grew distant, and Phoenix could no longer angle himself to see his prince. "Promise me that."
Before Phoenix could answer, his horse set into a run. They tore down the slope faster than any living mount could manage. Snow streamed behind him, and it was difficult to breathe as the wind whipped past. He wasn't freezing, but even as he struggled to free himself, he felt as dead inside as the ice around him.
They were already at the foot of the mountain when the diamond heart broke open.
Phoenix's horse slowed to a walk. He was able to free himself from the reins and did so desperately, but it was too late. A cascade of starlight was pouring from the palace into the night sky above. The stragglers from Miles' heart wound their way slowly upward, dancing and swaying like embers in a fire, then locked themselves into place in the heavens. Their light was as cold as the wind.
Not hesitating for an instant, Phoenix turned his horse back north and kicked it into a gallop. Prince Miles' last wish might have been for him to enjoy summer, but it was a promise he couldn't keep. Summer was a season of life and there was nothing left alive inside of him. Not after this. No, he pleaded, hoping that he'd somehow see anything else back in that courtyard. Anything but what he knew was waiting.
His hope was useless. At the far end of the courtyard, beyond the line of snowflake runes, stood Miles Edgeworth as white as snow and as still as ice. The bloodstains had vanished and he was the same crystalline clarity from hair to motionless feet. He didn't look at Phoenix when he approached; he didn't look at anything. He was a breathing statue, but not a living one. Everything inside of him had shattered and flown to the sky above.
Phoenix slid off his horse and landed heavily on the courtyard's blocks. He stared up at the dead prince, numb and broken.
Above him, a star went out.