Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The fire crackled merrily under the influence of several pinecones and a heavy layer of pine needles, quickly leaping to life in the confines of the impromptu fire pit and sending arcs of flickering light out in all directions. The pine trees were dense, thin, and incredibly tall here, swaddling the area in a blanket of forest. Legault leaned back against a large, lichen-coated rock nearby, closing his eyes and concentrating on the feeling of the ripples of heat radiating from the fire.

Several minutes later, the crunch of footsteps through the underbrush announced Heath’s return. The dense pines parted to admit the appearance of the tall, wild-haired knight. As Legault often did, he found himself pausing to admire the fiery, self-possessed glint in the man’s eye, and appreciate the confidant stride as he approached. There was so much you could tell from a man in how he moved and how he looked in the eye; and Heath quietly spoke volumes with it. It was often all Legault had to go on, since coaxing the knight to speak was frequently a prolonged and delicate process.

Oddly, instead of taking his usual seat on the opposite side of the fire, Heath continued to move until he stood right beside Legault. The thief tilted his head up to the man standing over him, feeling a swirl of curiosity as he met the pale blue eyes.

Legault spoke:

“Hi there.”

The knight reached out his hand, giving a blunt, “Here.”

Legault reached out, confused but happy to oblige. Heath placed a small object in his hand, then turned and moved to his traditional location, settling into a position on the opposite side of the fire.

Legault examined the object he’d been given. It was delicate and made of carved wood, vaguely cube-shaped. However, it was actually made of a number of highly intricate interlocking pieces. Legault manipulated it in his hand and the pieces slid and shifted about, locking and clicking into place and then unlocking and shifting, altering the shape of the object.

The thief peered up at Heath.

“What is it?”

Heath moved a little to brush some pinecones and debris off the ground so he could settle more comfortably down beside the fire, and then answered,

“Just some sort of puzzle cube, I guess. I don’t know what they’re called.”

Legault turned and shifted the little wooden pieces. They glided smoothly about in a deeply satisfying manner, and he gazed, transfixed by the delicate craftsmanship and the intricate design.

“It’s … beautiful.”

He continued to prod and manipulate the little cube into different shapes.

“The puzzle is that all the pieces can eventually be separated. Then assembled back together again, I think.”

Legault made a delighted noise.

“That’s marvelous! I’ve never seen anything like it. How fantastically clever.”

He became distracted again with toying with the puzzle cube, but eventually looked up and asked,

“Who made this? Where on earth did you come across this?”

Heath shrugged a little.

“The vendor made them, I suppose. They were just at the market we passed by the other day.”

“What, the village from two days ago?”

“Mmm.”

Legault considered this a moment.

“How odd I didn’t notice them there. I … wait.”

A little smile crept over the thief’s face.

“Did you … did you buy this for me, then?”

Heath shifted uncomfortably in his spot across from the fire.

“They were only six copper. I was just … I know how you always like to fiddle with things, just made me think of it is all.”

Legault beamed.

“Oh my goodness. Heath, you’re a sweetheart.”

Heath huffed, plainly embarrassed.

“There’s no need to be dramatic, thief. It’s just a silly toy I idly purchased.”

Legault played with the cube a bit more, and grinned back up at Heath.

“Well I love it. Always good to keep the nimble fingers in practice. Thank you, Heath. You’re beautiful.”

Heath grumbled an acknowledgement of sorts, but he held his lips stiffly, as if fighting off a smile. Legault could tell he was actually quite pleased.

“You’re welcome, thief.”

Chapter Text

It was an awful day. Heath was cranky as hell.

After spending a few hours eating sand and dust and battling with infuriating little mages that kept giving them the runaround, they finally had some sort of reprieve. Heath pointed himself to the nearest set of tables in camp, found a vacant chair– the nice one that didn’t squeak and had a bit of padding still left on it– and dropped down into it with an irritated snarl.

The Caelin knights also sitting about the table glanced up at him, but seemed wise enough to choose not to interact.

Legault wasn’t as wise. But of course he wasn’t.

“Hey, you took my seat.”

Heath glanced up at the interloper.

“I didn’t see your name on it.”

“True, but it had my butt print. Surely that’s good enough.”

“Too bad. It’s mine now. Sit somewhere else.”

Legault crossed his arms and smirked a little.

“You’d rather I sit in your lap?”

Heath was not in the mood for this shit right now.

“Fuck off, it’s my seat, I’m not getting up. I’ve been on my feet for the past seventy-two hours. There’s nothing in the world that can make me move right now, least of all you.”

Legault had remained infuriatingly calm during Heath’s rant– if anything, it only seemed to encourage him, the thief’s smirk growing wider.

“That a challenge?”

“No, it isn’t. And don’t touch me.”

“I don’t need to lay a finger on you.”

Legault had shifted around to Heath’s side of the table and was sidling up beside him. Heath tensed up and snapped,

“Don’t.”

Legault held up his hands in supplication.

“I promise. Not a single touch. Kent and Sain as my witnesses.”

Heath glared at Legault for a few moments. Then he glanced to the Caelin knights. The two looked a bit awkward witnessing the unfolding altercation. Feeling slightly self-conscious about how unprofessional he was acting around fellow knights, Heath forced himself to take a calming breath.

“Fine,” Heath said tersely, “But I’m still not moving.”

Legault inched closer, just slightly.

“We’ll see.”

Heath felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck at the man’s proximity.

“What are you doing?”

Legault didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned directly into Heath’s personal space. Heath flinched, but stubbornness kept him rooted to his seat. The thief came uncomfortably, uncomfortably close, his breath tickling Heath’s face. Then he spoke in a low, clear murmur directly into Heath’s ear.

The Caelin knights could not hear what Legault was saying to Heath; they could only see that at first, Heath’s entire posture went rigid and tense, his fingers gripping the table. Then some sort of dawning horror seemed to spread across his face, his eyes bugging out almost comically; rapidly following that, the wyvern rider began blushing a bright crimson.

It seemed as though he was attempting to remain seated despite whatever it was Legault was telling him, although it obviously took great effort. Kent and Sain exchanged glances, watching as Heath grew increasingly red, the flush spreading across his face and down his neck.

Then Heath leapt up from his seat, practically screaming,

“OKAY OKAY YOU WIN STOP STOP STOP!”

It was only after Heath had rapidly fled the vicinity that one of the Caelin knights finally said something.

“What did you tell him?”

Legault slid into the freshly-vacated chair and shrugged.

“Just a few select thoughts I’d been having. He didn’t even let me get to the good part.”

Chapter Text

They had left the ground covered in blood. Blood spilled from allies, from enemies, and from former friends they were now forced to turn against. The bodies of the fallen were scattered, twisted and broken in the dirt.

Bern once meant home to him. After this, he doubted it ever could again.

After the battle, there was no time to even pause. They were hunted people in the middle of a hostile land, and so they marched; exhausted, battered, bruised and bloodied. The injured were treated on the road as best as they were able. They did not even stop to take meals, instead opting for a few stolen gulps of water from a canteen.

Seeking to avoid all major towns and pass through undetected, their journey took them over wide, uncultivated fields in the Bern lowlands that bordered some of the smaller villages. The soil was acidic and dry, but great swaths of hardy, low-growing shrubs absolutely coated the landscape. The shrubs were dotted with hundreds of tiny little lavender flowers, which turned the fields a hazy purple, the air hanging thick with a sweet, gentle scent.

Legault gazed out across it all in a bit of a daze, thinking it seemed incredibly jarring and bizarre to be surrounded by such pleasantness after the sort of day they’d had. Every time he closed his eyes, he could still see the fields of dust and death, but when he opened his eyes– just the peaceful lull of spring and all these flowers.

Heaths, his mind supplied. They were walking through Bern’s heathlands. Legault glanced to his left, at the stony-faced wyvern rider some paces behind him that was leading his mount by its reins.

For a moment, Legault considered slowing his pace to let the man catch up and then making some comment to him about his namesake, but he decided against it. The wyvern rider looked as though he was worn down to the very quick. Legault hadn’t been the only one today who was forced to turn weapons on former colleagues and friends.

He felt a pang of empathy, wishing he could do more. To let him know that in the very least, he understood that sort of pain. But every time he had reached out to Heath, the man had only drawn back. He doubted that would change now. So Legault turned his sights back to the purple fields, simply giving a small sigh.

It was a mercy when they finally stopped for the day. Even though they’d planned to continue marching in a few short hours, any sort of rest was met with open arms.

Legault spent the time pushing through the crowd around their supply caravans, accepting the rations that were doled out and eating stale bread and chipped beef. It wasn’t enjoyable by any stretch of the imagination, but his neglected body was still grateful for the nourishment. He felt a lot better afterward, eventually heading away from the noisy group around the supply wagons and wandering sort of aimlessly past the few tents that had been put up. They were still in the middle of the heathlands, and sometimes a drunken bumblebee would bump past his face, on an urgent mission of pollination.

On the outer edges of their makeshift camp, he spotted Heath, back propped against a support beam for one of the tents, arms crossed and tucked tight about himself. He was dozing in the shade the tent cast, his face relaxed and finally free from the harsh strain it had been under all day.

Legault couldn’t help but obey the compulsion to draw closer, and soon he was standing over the man, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, a little errant green strand of hair fluttering slightly under his breath. He just looked so different this way. It wasn’t just that he finally looked peaceful for a change; Legault could notice the very soft creases around his mouth and eyes that denoted smile lines.

Heath was a man who smiled frequently, once. Laughed, even. Legault wondered what that had been like.

He suddenly realized how heavy his limbs felt. The weight of the day was catching up to him, and watching Heath dozing in the shade was making him feel tired himself.

He knew the man would be irritated if he woke and found him there, but Legault plunked down on the ground in the shade beside Heath anyway. Absent-mindedly, his fingers fiddled with a sprig of flowers from one of the nearby bushes. He gazed off into nothingness for a while in contemplation, before eventually bringing his focus back to the little flowers in his hand. He glanced to Heath and smiled a little at a silly, random notion.

Because Legault became so absorbed in his new activity for quite some time, almost slipping into a meditative state, he was startled when a voice eventually interrupted him.

“Legault? Come on, you’re just sitting there?”

He glanced up– it was the Ostian spy, Matthew, dragging along a crate far too large for someone of his strength. The man let the crate sink down and he frowned, adding,

“What … what are you doing?”

Legault shrugged a little, admiring his own handiwork. He pulled another piece off of the nearby bush and plucked another tiny heath blossom off, carefully sticking it into Heath’s hair. It joined the many others, the wyvern rider’s hair filled with dozens of the little purple flowers at that point.

“Decorating the cranky wyvern man?”

Matthew didn’t look too amused.

“Uh-huh. So why am I working my butt off like some chump while you’re just picking daisies?”

“They’re not daisies, Matthew. And you’d have to tell me that.”

His new companion sat down heavily on the crate he’d been dragging.

“Good question. I guess it’s break time.”

“There you go.”

Legault picked another flower and nestled it into one of Heath’s white locks of hair, then repeated the procedure. Matthew watched for about a minute before speaking again.

“Seriously, though, don’t you have anything better to do? We leave in just a little while.”

“Shh. You’re going to wake him.”

“Oh, Matthew, there you are! Hector’s been looking for you.”

Matthew looked on in horror as Serra approached, her pigtails bouncing as she bounded up.

“What? I’ve been gone for like two minutes. This isn’t fair. I want a break.”

“Hi, Legault! Don’t complain to me, Matthew. I’m just the messenger. I wouldn’t even need to run around all about looking for you if you were doing your job.”

Matthew glared.

“Oh, I’m sorry, who’s the one dragging around crates full of anvils? Yeah, that would be me!”

Legault winced at their volume.

“You guys–”

It was already too late, though; Heath stirred in his sleep and blinked awake, looking in a foggy confusion at the people gathered around him. Everyone was silent a moment and Heath frowned.

“What … why is everyone looking at me.”

Serra giggled.

“Looking very nice, Heath.”

Matthew hopped to his feet.

“Uhh, we were just leaving. Serra, help me with this.”

“What?! These hands are for healing, not lifting!!”

Matthew waved at her.

“These hands aren’t for lifting either! Just get one corner, ok?”

Serra made a sound of disgust, but she bent and gave a half-hearted attempt at grabbing a corner of the crate.

“I can’t believe you’re making a lady lift, Matthew!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a horrible person. You’re not even lifting anything. Put your back into it.”

The pair made for a terribly noisy and slow exit, half-dragging, half-carrying the crate away, Serra complaining bitterly all the while. For a little while, Legault and Heath just watched them go; at some point, Heath stretched against the tent pole he was propped against. He spoke in a voice still a little roughed with sleep.

“So why are you still here?”

Legault smiled languidly at him, not put off by the man’s usual acerbic nature.

“I ask myself that every day.”

Heath grunted, looking annoyed, but before he could say anything else rude, he was interrupted by a yawn. It sort of deflated the effectiveness of the scowl he then aimed at Legault.

His sleep-tousled hair being completely filled with little purple flowers removed a lot of the scowl’s effectiveness too, of course. Legault smirked.

“Now, there’s no need to be cross with me. I tried to get them to be quiet, you know. I know the value of letting a fellow sleep.”

Heath seemed to process this and his irritated look softened just a little. He rubbed his face and mumbled tiredly,

“Do you know how long until we move again?”

One of the tiny flowers was jarred loose from Heath’s motion and it drifted gently down in front of him to the ground. He blinked at it. Legault answered,

“About an hour, I believe. I could wake you when it’s time, if you’d like.”

Heath shook his head.

“No, I won’t be–”

He paused as a tiny shower of flowers went flying from his hair. Puzzled, he reached up and brushed at his head.

“Aw, wait, you’re going to ruin it!”

Heath brushed more of the flowers out and glanced to Legault, confused.

“Ruin what? What did you do to me?”

“At least– here, admire it a little before you destroy it, hmm?”

He took the shield resting on the ground that Heath normally wore at his side, flipped it over to its underside, and handed it to Heath.

Heath peered at his reflection in the metal and said shrilly,

“Legault! Wh-why?!”

Legault opened his mouth to answer the man glaring at him, but then he just sighed. He smiled a little, though his eyes were melancholy. After a contemplative moment, he finally answered.

“You just looked so content. I wished it could last, I suppose.”

The wyvern rider continued to look at him, but all of his irritation seemed to slowly bleed out. Legault watched the man’s eyes, which seemed to glaze over in thought. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking, quite honestly. Virtually everything about Heath was still a mystery to him.

Then the man’s hand shot out and grabbed Legault’s wrist. Legault winced, automatically twisting his wrist and preparing to pull him off, but stopped short when he saw Heath wasn’t snarling angrily.

He was just … staring at him. His expression was unreadable.

Legault swallowed, staring back, confused.

Then Heath tugged Legault’s wrist, gently, pulling him closer. It wasn’t by much– a few inches at most– but it felt much, much closer. A dizzy little charge looped up Legault’s spine. He was so preoccupied with Heath’s eyes that it took him a moment to notice the man had used his other hand to pluck a little sprig of flowers from the bushes they were sitting upon.

Heath slowly reached over and tucked the sprig lightly behind Legault’s ear.

Then he released Legault’s wrist and leaned back against the tent support beam, crossing his arms and settling in again as if ready to return to his napping.

“You’re one weird guy,” the man murmured, looking sidelong at him. A gentle smile played at the corners of his lips.

Legault honestly took a moment to process what had just happened.

Then he smiled, this time not a sad smile; rather, a silly little thing that started out small and spread into a wide, dumb grin that lit his entire face.

Heath slipped his eyes back shut and chuckled quietly.

It was a lovely sound.

Chapter Text

He could see that the three young lords at the head of their group were deeply absorbed in discussion, but he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. They spoke in hushed tones, which made it obvious they were discussing some kind of plan or strategy. Heath knew better then to eavesdrop, though. 

He picked up his marching speed just slightly, drawing a little closer to the trio of nobles. Entirely unintentionally, of course. He just wanted to keep up a brisk pace.

Besides, it wouldn’t really count as eavesdropping if he just happened to overhear something while he was marching. Right?

Hector’s voice carried the most, even when he was trying to be quiet. Heath caught a few snatches of words– ‘isn’t time’ and ‘smashing skulls,’ it sounded like– while Eliwood gave soft-spoken, stern replies and Lyndis seemed to be trying to arbitrate the argument between the two men. Just as Heath was starting to make out what Lyndis was saying, all three of the lords paused and glanced about in unison. Their eyes fell upon him.

Heath paused in his steps. Shit. Did they know he was listening? But how …

“Heath! C’mere.”

The wyvern rider hastened to obey the request from the surly-looking Hector, shuffling over nervously through the snowdrift to meet the group, falling into step with their march.

“Yes, sir?”

Eliwood smiled at him kindly and spoke before Hector could.

“Heath. We were just discussing what our next move should be regarding the queen’s manse. Considering the urgency of matters, we’d like to send a smaller party ahead of everyone to scout the situation.”

Heath nodded slowly, absorbing the information.

“That sounds wise, m’lord. Would you like me to volunteer?”

Eliwood shook his head, his brow creased in thought.

“Actually, no. The three of us would like to go ahead and try to speak with the queen, if we can. We’re the ones most likely to have our warnings, ah …”

“Believed?” Hector supplied. Eliwood frowned and cleared his throat.

“Ah, well, yes. But you see, we’d prefer that the Emblem remain with the main group for now, for safekeeping. We’d possibly just be inviting more trouble if we rushed on ahead with it.”

“I see,” Heath replied, understanding his logic but failing to see why he wished to explain it.

“You want to carry the Fire Emblem for us?” Hector cut in bluntly. Heath balked, looking at him incredulously. He squawked,

“Me?!”

“Yeah.”

Heath stared. Were they mad? Out of the entire army, why him?

“Sir … wouldn’t you prefer one of your long-trusted vassals …?”

Hector gave him a pained smile, as if he had been expecting that reply.

“I would. Eliwood seems to think that would be too ‘obvious.’”

Eliwood bristled slightly and Lyndis jumped in to explain.

“If the Black Fang are still tracking us, they could try and make an attempt at retrieving their stolen goods. It’s best if we’re discrete about concealing it with someone who we, well …”

“Who we normally wouldn’t give it to?” Hector supplied again. Lyndis sighed.

Seemingly at Heath’s expression, Eliwood hastened to add,

“That isn’t to say we don’t trust you, of course, Heath. Quite the contrary. But I hope you see the method to our madness. Would you be comfortable with doing this?”

Heath felt the weight of their collective gazes as they waited for his answer. In all honesty, he wasn’t comfortable, but he wasn’t about to tell them that. He forced out a reply.

“Of course,  m’lord. I’d be happy to.”

Eliwood smiled, looking relieved.

“Wonderful. All you need to do is keep it concealed on your person. We ask nothing more.”

Hector clawed at a little gold chain around his neck and pulled out a heavy-looking orange stone from inside his shirt where it had been tucked away. Unceremoniously, he reached over and looped the large chain over Heath’s head, letting the emblem thunk against the man’s chest. Heath stared down at the gem.

“Keep it out of sight. And don’t lose it, yeah?”

Heath glanced up at Hector, who was giving him a crooked grin.

“Yessir.”

Eliwood told him politely,

“We’re off to inform Marcus of our plans, then we’ll be leaving shortly. Thank you, Heath.”

“Of course, sir.”

As the lords passed him by, Lyndis added,

“I suggest sticking to the middle of the group so you won’t be a target. Take care.”

“Yes, m’lady. You too.”

And then they were gone. Heath watched for a few moments as some of the main group marched past him. He blinked, feeling a little dazed.

Okay. This was pretty strange, but it wasn’t so bad. He literally just had to carry the thing. Certainly, it was unexpected, but his task couldn’t be any simpler.

Heath plucked up the emblem in his hands, taking a moment to examine it; it’s not as though he’d ever expected to see his country’s most precious treasure so up-close like this. The smooth, polished gem glowed orange and had internal flecks that diffracted the light in bright red flashes. It was encircled by a delicately-crafted dragon of gold that curled around the gem, biting its own tail. The dragon was so detailed that Heath could make out its individual scales. It was honestly quite a marvel to behold.

Jolting back to his surroundings, Heath stopped gawking and quickly slipped the emblem underneath his shirt, the cool metal sliding down his chest and settling into place against him. Remembering what Lyndis suggested, he moved to march in the middle of the group, his gaze shifting about warily at his comrades. It felt … odd, skulking about with a secret like this, but he ignored the feeling and concentrated on the path ahead of them. 

The walk felt as though it lasted forever, but in truth, only an hour had probably passed. They still had quite a ways to go in order to escape the Bern mountains. Heath had quickly grown paranoid during the trek and had glanced down his shirt, checking to see if the emblem was still hanging there from its gold chain; of course, it still was. He ended up checking again and again every once in a while, until he realized he was being quite ridiculous. It wasn’t going anywhere. It was fine.

Heath sighed, trying to settle his nerves. Why was he so worried? It really wasn’t like him to be paranoid. It’s just … he couldn’t stop thinking about things. The weight of his responsibility felt especially heavy to him. Perhaps it was because of how delicate a situation Bern had ended up in. Once the most powerful and respected country of all the lands, its fate now hung precariously in the balance, all depending on the tiny life of a prince who would hopefully grow up a far wiser ruler than his callous and capricious father. In a way, the situation seemed a lot like the precious gem suspended from its chain; so many hopes and dreams pinned upon something so small. Heath didn’t envy the young man who was to inherent that weight.

The wyvern knight became lost in his thoughts for quite some time, mind wandering to the past, to his experiences in Bern, to all the troubles that had beset him, to all the uncertainty he felt about the future. It was only when he stumbled slightly on a rock hidden in the snow that he glanced up and realized he had started to lag behind the rest of the group. He had better catch up. Patting at his shirt to reassure himself once again that the emblem was still there, he paused before picking up his pace. Frowning, he tugged at the neck of his shirt and peered down.

His heart skipped a beat. He yanked at the gold chain around his neck and pulled it up.

It was empty.

Heath felt a cold wave of panic wash over him, his heart pounding. Wildly, he patted all around at his shirt and tugged the hem from his pants, checking everywhere it could have slipped to. His eyes darted across the ground around him, finding nothing of interest in the vicinity, and he looked further out, his gaze reaching across the vast, white expanses of snow all around him.

It was a neat, white blanket, stretching for miles and miles.

Heath felt all the blood drain from his face as he glanced to Eliwood’s marching group, gradually moving away from him. No, no, no, no … how could … how could this be happening? How could he do this?

How could he lose the Emblem?

Heath was backtracking his path rapidly, searching through the snow and desperately trying to keep from screaming in raw frustration, when he heard the crunch of approaching footsteps.

He glanced up at the familiar figure of a purple-caped rogue. A wry voice commented casually,

“You drop this?”

The man opened his gloved hand to reveal the gold-encircled gem. Heath’s jaw fell agape, completely overwhelmed at the utter joy flooding him. Heath spluttered forcefully,

“L-legault!”

“I noticed something shiny bounce away from you back there. You should probably–”

Heath grabbed Legault by the cape bunched around his shoulders and yanked him forward, impulsively shoving his lips against Legault’s with enough force that his teeth mashed against him a little. He kissed him passionately for a few short seconds, then let go, babbling breathlessly in his face:

“You’ve saved my life just now.”

Legault, wide-eyed and red-faced, answered dumbly:

“Aaahh hnnggnnn?”

Heath reached to grab the emblem, saw the stunned Legault had dropped it on the ground, and quickly plucked it out of the snow. He turned, intent on rushing to rejoin the group, but stopped when he saw several people ahead of them were gazing back curiously at them.

Very curiously.

Heath felt a blush creeping over his face. Damnit. He probably got a little … carried away there.

Heath turned, seeing the thief still had a dumbfounded expression on his face.

“Er, Legault, could you. Could you possibly not mention this whole … incident to anyone? I was entrusted with the emblem, and …”

Heath trailed off, not really wanting to finish. And I don’t want people to know I fucking lost the thing. Legault mumbled a loopy reply.

“Mmmhmm … you do that to me a few more times I’d keep any secret for you.”

Heath grit his teeth, his face growing hot.

“Legault. Please.”

“All right, all right. My lips are sealed. That is, until you don’t want them to be.”

Heath turned quickly and hurried after the main group, trying to ignore the stares he was still getting, the crunch of Legault’s footsteps following close behind him.

Chapter Text

The knocking at his door was, to his irritation, not going away. A repetitive rapping that only grew louder with each passing moment.

“Legault,” a voice came, the elegant Ylissian accent sounding pretty even in an angry tone. Legault hummed and rolled over in bed, stretching his long legs, but ignored the man.

“I know you’re in there, Legault. Answer the bloody door.”

The lavender-haired ex-assassin stuffed a pillow over his head. He called back lazily–

“Unless the world’s on fire out there, it can wait for later.”

There was an exasperated noise, and the damned knocking ceased. Legault waited a moment, but it seemed his tormenter had given up. Sighing, he slipped his eyes closed again.

Then there came a scraping at his window. Legault groaned. It didn’t take long for the window’s latch to be smartly undone from the outside, and then the window flipped open, bathing the small room in early morning sunlight.

Legault made a noise suspiciously close to a hissing sound and retracted from the light. He grumbled,

“If you’re going to let yourself into my home, at least close the window.”

Inigo stepped in through the window, nearly tripping as he slipped over a stack of dirty clothing nearby.

“No, you brute. Some fresh air and sunshine will do you good. Gods, Legault, you live like an animal, you know that?”

Legault sighed, removing the pillow from his face, squinting at the interloper.

“Only because I have no one to impress here.”

Inigo waved his arms about, gesturing around him.

“No one? What about me? Look at this mess! It’s leaving a terrible impression on me. I’m deeply unimpressed. Even disgusted, I’d say!”

Legault snorted. Glancing about the small room of the stout little cottage, he spared a brief moment to evaluate the place. It wasn’t really that bad. Gear and weaponry tossed in one corner by the door. A small breakfast table in the center of the room, covered in blades and little wood-carving tools, half-finished pieces and wood shavings, remnants of Legault’s toying about with the hobby of whittling. Old clothes stacked by the window, a blood-stained cape spread out over the mirror sitting on his dresser. Jars and elixirs of various poisons stacked on the floor. Dirt and muck tracked through the room from the last time it had rained…

Ok. Maybe it was a little messy. But as he had said, he hadn’t felt terribly inspired to do any cleaning for a place only he ever saw.

“We’re close enough I can be my own dirty self around you, Indigo,” Legault replied, winking at him. This earned him another sound of exasperation from the man.

“I’m honored,” Inigo said, voice laden with sarcasm. Legault kicked his sheets off, surrendering to the fact he would be getting up at his hour now. Inigo carried on,

“I know you rejected the idea before, but you really should consider accepting Prince Alfonse’s invitation to room at the castle. It’s quite cozy there, actually.”

Legault shook his head as he sat up, murmuring,

“A little too ostentatious and luxurious for someone like me. Trust me, this place suits me just fine.”

Inigo tilted his head back, raising his brows.

“Are you indirectly calling me ostentatious?”

Legault chuckled, moving from his worn, hay-stuffed mattress and padding across the floor.

“Aren’t you a prince?”

Inigo ruffled at that, saying,

“That’s very much beside the point!”

Legault pulled on a shirt and switched subjects, asking,

“Tell me, was there a reason you came by? Or did you just want to watch me get dressed?”

Inigo’s pretty face pinkened at his cheeks, and his eyes shifted away shyly as Legault pulled his pants up. Legault smirked.

“Y-yes, you idiot. There was a reason. You need to come see the new recruits today.”

Legault frowned, running a brush through his tangled hair.

“The new recruits? Why?”

Inigo’s hands were on his hips. He cautiously looked to Legault, saw he was in a state of mostly dressed, and then fixed him with a firm gaze. His bright eyes looked adamant.

“Trust me. You’ll want to see this.”

Legault considered arguing further, but there was a curious urgency hidden behind Inigo’s smile. It sent little tendrils of anxious energy coiling through Legault. Something unusual was up.

“All right. Lead the way, mystery man.”

After donning some boots and grabbing his slightly-less torn-up and bloodied cape, Legault followed him out the door of his cottage. The air outside was still damp and chilly from the morning, and Legault wrapped his cape about himself, following behind the quick-footed Inigo. They moved through the sleepy village, past the other little cottages that Legault supposed counted as his neighbors. Mostly they were other Heroes that had been summoned, all hailing from various distant worlds and lands– primarily former mercenaries and other types who hadn’t felt comfortable staying in a room in the Askran castle. Legault had spoken with them, on occasion, but hadn’t grown particularly close to any of them.

“I take it our esteemed Summoner just completed a new ritual?” Legault asked, tucking his hair back with a purple bandana as he walked.

Inigo nodded.

“Bright and early, at the crack of dawn. Four new recruits. They haven’t left the shrine yet, so far as I know.”

Legault eyed his friend, trying to read his expression.

“So why is this one such an important one?”

Inigo shot him a look and just smiled.

“You’ll see.”

Oh, that smug bastard. Legault had the mild urge to deck him, but Inigo kept up a brisk walking pace. So instead, he fell into step behind him, not giving him the satisfaction of looking too intrigued by the mystery.

It was probably something silly, anyway. The last time Inigo got excited about the new recruits, it had just been some ladies he’d thought were cute, and he’d wanted a wingman to come along.

Sighing, Legault trooped up the cobblestone path that wove into the woods near the village, trying to keep up with Inigo’s excited pace. The walk to the Summoning Shrine was a bit of a long one, but he supposed it would be nice to catch some fresh air on his day off.

Not that he wasn’t already plenty busy as it was. Legault ran his mind along the past several weeks in recent memory, noting how the days blurred together in a rush. He had been extremely occupied, sneaking over enemy lines into Emblian territory, scouting out villages, locating targets and working with his small, hand-picked team to eliminate them. Theirs was a focus quite distinct from the rest of the Askr war effort. Rather than battling on the front lines, Legault’s crew sunk into the shadows and looked for the innocent civilians just struggling to get by. These were Emblian citizens, but in the eyes of Legault, they were no countrymen representing their homeland. They were simply people, living out their lives. Often these civilians were ambivalent over the Emblian war efforts, or downright didn’t support it. And very often, they were downtrodden by their own government, squeezed by the war efforts, forcibly recruited into battle, taxed down into nothingness, used and abused like tools, mere fodder for royals to play about with. So Legault did what he could to help them, fighting the battle against Embla from within. He would incite rebellion, knock out targets of officials that were razing innocent villages, and generally sowed the seeds of chaos against the abusive in power.

It had been extremely dangerous, exhausting, dirty work. But it had been meaningful.

It hadn’t always been like that in Askr. Legault’s first arrival to this land had been … well, tumultuous. The experience of being “summoned”– a tear in the fabric of space magically engulfing him one night, violently dragging him away from his home and throwing him into this new world– was nothing short of traumatic. How prettily, the Askrans referred to it, and how nicely they made it seem with their shrines and their rituals. But no, it had been a straight-up magical kidnapping, no doubt about it. Legault had been extremely wary at first. Heck, the moment he’d arrived he’d held his dagger to the Summoner’s throat. He had every reason to question the motives of his abductors. Over time, though … they convinced him to stay. They told him of their plight, and why they felt driven to use such extreme measures. He had been sympathetic, damned his sentimental heart.

Not that it was mere sentimentality that made him stay. If what the Askrans told him was true, the Emblian Empire was a very real and very powerful threat not only to this world, but to dozens of others scattered across the multiverse. Legault would have been a fool to not take that seriously. So he stayed, and he joined the Askr’s campaign. Thrust once again into a war, by powers beyond him.

It hadn’t been so bad, in a way. When the war against Nergal had drawn to a close, Legault had felt rather … directionless. He’d spent the time after the war tracking down fellow Black Fang refugees. He helped them get a leg up, start a new life, readjust back into society. At least, as well as they could. Yet all the while, while he helped them readjust to normal life, he couldn’t seem to do that for himself. What was “normal,” anyway? If you’d grown up with a twisted experience on life, certainly there was no normal waiting for you.

So when that magical portal tore Legault from his bed and dumped him out here, in a way, it had felt like a bit of a blessing in disguise. Here, Legault felt needed. Here, he felt like he was doing something of some worth.

He even had made friends, of a variety. The people here were of a dizzying number, an army far, far larger than Legault had been used to with Eliwood’s rag-tag little team of freedom fighters. It had been difficult at first, but he’d been drawn to Inigo, a lavender-haired swordsman who cut a dashing figure as a fighter and an even sexier figure as a dancer. Legault had found the man delightfully contradictory, shy yet brash and bawdy, incredibly dedicated to his work yet also quite frivolous, a hard, practical fellow who was also a dreamer. Most of all, Legault appreciated the fellow’s heart; there was a deep well of genuine kindness within him. Legault had ended up talking to him about his past life, more than with anyone else he’d met in Askr. It had been nice, having somebody to talk to.

And, of course, there had been old friends.

At first, it had been Eliwood, Hector and Lyn he’d found among the residents of Askr Castle’s halls, and a few others of Eliwood’s former crew– the young spy Matthew, that mouthy girl Serra, the sullen Raven and his healer friend Lucius, the mousy pegasus knight Florina, and so on and so on. As time went on, the Summoner had added more and more into the fold. Most of them had been nice enough to see, but Legault hadn’t thought of them as people he’d been particularly close to. He held a fondness for Eliwood and his plucky noble friends, to be sure. But it was really only when he ran across Nino and other former Black Fang members that he really felt his heart strings tug.

When he’d found Nino, it had taken him forever to accept the idea of the poor young girl being whisked away by the Askrans and being made to fight in a new war that she had no reason to be involved in. Some days, he still had reservations about her presence here; but she had been so insistent that she help out, said that it was so important to her to do her part. Legault let her, but he was still terribly protective of her.

And when he’d ran across Linus and his older brother Lloyd, well. It had been like running square into a pair of ghosts. He had questioned Commander Anna about it, and learned that the two brothers had been pulled from their worlds at a point before their untimely demise. However, Anna couldn’t tell him what this meant for the future. She didn’t know whether, upon the eventual return to their realm, whether Linus and Lloyd would return to their grisly fates or if history might be rewritten. Apparently, even the Askrans didn’t understand all the details of how their gateways and their summoning actually worked. It was deeply frustrating. Legault had adapted, but only as best as one could, knowing that the people you were speaking with might dissolve back into phantoms the very next day.

It made life in Askr very … strange. And very unpredictable. But all things considered, Legault thought that he had done a fairly decent job. Life had thrown him about a million curveballs, but he was still here, battling along. It was madness, and it was inexplicable, but here he still was.

“Legault? Hallo. Hallooooo there, Legault.”

Legault blinked at the hand being waved in front of his face. Inigo gave him a concerned look and asked,

“You all right there? You’ve been so quiet.”

Legault shrugged a little.

“Just thinking about how strange my life’s become.”

Inigo chuckled, slowing his brisk walking pace.

“Well, if you’re not ready for more surprises, you might want to turn back now.”

Legault grinned.

“I doubt there’s much left that can surprise me, Indigo.”

Inigo’s face seemed to brighten at that. He had an almost gleeful look to his eye.

“We’ll just have to wait and see. Actually,” he said, rounding the bend in the trail,

“We wait no longer! Here we are; the Summoning Shrine.”

Legault joined Inigo at the edge of the trail, casting a curious gaze across the clearing where the shrine rested. Inigo was practically vibrating in anticipation.

“I believe …” Inigo said, pausing dramatically and then continuing,

“There’s someone here for you to meet.”

Legault sighed.

“It’s too early in the morning for games, Indigo. What do you want me to see?”

Inigo gestured toward the center of the shrine, where a tall, marble carving stood, depicting a tree interwoven in complex patterns.

“Over there. I think he’s waiting behind the portal gateway.”

Legault looked Inigo over once, trying to discern if his friend was just toying with him, but he was only met with an eager expression he couldn’t quite decipher.

All right, then. Legault walked across the wide, marbled ground and approached the great tree, peeking behind the monolith.

A lone figure stood behind the shrine’s statue, his back turned to Legault, his posture alert and his arms crossed. Thick plate armor shone a dull violet in the sun, the spaulders and greaves showing deep chips and cracks in places. Bright-green, spiked hair adorned the man and cascaded along the back of his neck, styled in a manner that was immediately familiar to Legault.

No. Surely not. Surely …

Feeling his heart hammering in anticipation, Legault drew closer to the man, taking great pains to move silently. The closer he drew, the more certain he became.

Finally, when he was but a breath away from the man, he spoke.

“Is someone chasing you or something?”

“Gah!”

The man practically jumped out of his skin, whirling about, brandishing a spear at Legault’s face. Legault held up both hands in surrender, smiling innocently.

His eyes met with a pair of pale sky-blue ones.

“L… Legault?”

Legault’s smile shifted from playful into something warm.

“Hello, Heath. I was wondering when you’d finally get here.”