Hello! DarkToLight here, perhaps you have seen me on the ToS and Baten Kaitos sections? No? Oh well. This is just a nice little rambly oneshot I wrote (I like oneshots... And Legault)
Don't flame me about the idea, I loves it. And Heath is so totally Zeiss and Miledy's father. I always wondered how a deserter's children could join the army... This is the answer.
Pairings: HeathxPriscilla, despite what the stupid support says. It robs me of so many fanfic opportunities! Robbbssss meee... So I changed it
Disclaimer:I wish I owned FE, but, unfortunately, I do not...
...Yet...
Evil snicker
Flight
It was cold, it was raining, and the wind was lashing hard enough to turn each little drop into a tiny knife as it lashed against the Hurricane's face. As he stood on the side of the hill, his clothes wet and his hair blowing into a steadily more tangled mess, Legault mused on the irony of the Hurricane of the Black Fang practically being out in one.
Of the Black Fang. He still called himself that, he still wore his old nickname with his old scars, and he couldn't shake it off, somehow. Despite everything that had happened, he would always be one of the Fang.
"I'm surprised to see you out in this!" His companion shouted down at him. Legault looked upwards almost lazily at the green wyvern in the air.
"You know me, Heath. Can't resist a challenge," he replied with a wry grin. "Take care of yourself, yeah?" Heath nodded; Hyperion winging back up into the sky as Legault vanished into the shadows.
Heath. Legault had to admit that although he hadn't seen the guy for five years he had hardly changed. Had two kids to, by the Troubadour he had always cared so much about. Legault found himself almost touched by it. It must have been that thing called 'love', you know…
He felt a little guilty about it now, toying with the guy's emotions like that, but Heath had been easy, and he was only trying to show that he was a friend. Something he'd never really had, save for perhaps in Lloyd and Linus, and they were both long gone…
No use living in the past. That wasn't living at all.
As he stood behind a tree, hiding from both the wind and the Bernese troops that were now moving down the road, Legault turned his mind to the task of hand. Not assassination, he didn't do that sort of thing any more… More like a favour. He was going to wipe Heath's slate clean, not for Heath, but for his kids, who were already desperate to ride a wyvern like their father.
Such a good role model, that Heath.
He ran a hand through his sopping wet hair with a look of distaste at the tangles he pulled out, pulling off his bandana and using it as a rudimentary tie for his hair. He was going to drip all over the floor now, and it would be such a bother if the guards decided to look for him.
Not a worry, not for the Hurricane… Just a bother.
He snuck around to the back entrance of the palace – he knew all of the entrances to the palace, even the ones the builders didn't know about. The palace had often been a source of employment for the Fang… There he went, thinking about old times again…
There were guards, but he climbed the stone wall like a cat and landed with an almost deadly grace in a first floor room. He knew where he was without needing to look, and he knew where he had to go… That was the next task, actually getting there, preferably without killing anyone, but he wasn't really fussed either way. His hand strayed over his dagger as he reached for his set of picks, opening the lock swiftly and easing the door open, eyes always alert, ears always open. He would probably knew where the guards were before they themselves did. That was how good he was at his job.
But he wasn't here to think about the Fang!
A quick glance up showed him an open ceiling, and he pulled himself up the wall and landed on a wooden eave, waiting, watching, until the guard he had heard approaching came into view, passed under him without looking up, and passed away from view once more.
Legault began to climb.
With one hand on the supporting wood at all times, the nimble ex-assassin moved swiftly from one beam to the other, even jumping one or two, a feat that no normal person would ever have attempted, especially not with a rather large drop to the ground floor below them. But then, Legault was not ordinary people.
"Bingo," he murmured, finding the room he wanted. The only downside was the guards outside it. He drew his dagger… Turned to the wall the eave he was stood on was near, and chipped off a piece of the stone. A careful aim and a very accurate throw sent the pot down the corridor tumbling from its pedestal.
"What was that?" One guard asked, looking down. The other straightened up from his lounging position.
"Better go check it out. Wait here," he told his companion, moving off. Legault sighed. One out of two wasn't all that bad. As the second guard moved away, the first watching him, Legault landed silently like a cat behind him and dealt him a swift but effective blow to the back of the head. He crumpled, still breathing, and Legault picked the lock and tossed him into the room. Better to be safe than sorry, and his companion wouldn't think to look inside a 'locked' room for his missing friend if he was a dumb as he looked.
He didn't run the risk of lighting the torch, instead moving over to the bookcase where the records were stored, looking down the dates until he found what he wanted. Five years ago. He pulled out the file, casually flicking through it until he found what he was looking for. A unit under Commander Vaida Rayne, all executed for treason, and a list of names.
A quick swap, and Heath's name was no longer on the list.
A further search through the records eventually found Heath's training record, his history and his Record of Service, all of which were swiftly removed. No-one cared to remember the names of traitors, and even if they did, they would know Heath by first name, not last.
Heath now no longer existed as a wyvern rider in Bern's records.
Legault allowed himself a sly smile, not even bothering to cast about for valuables. He was never sort of money, not in Bern, and taking things might make people suspicious. He grabbed the unconscious guard and slung him over his shoulder, checked that the door was securely locked, and swung himself out of the open window, climbing down the stones with one hand. Unable to resist the temptation to make a guard look like a fool, Legault stripped him down to his underwear and tied him to the nearest door. He would wake up literally not knowing what had hit him. Hey, who said espionage couldn't be fun?
There was the sound of guards coming, and Legault was up on a second-story window ledge faster than a blink reflex. They didn't pass closely enough to see the guard, but closely enough for it to have been worth taking the precaution.
He jumped off and landed with elegance, slowly standing and brushing the dirt off his hands with a mild expression. The rain would wash him clean, besides.
He hadn't been truly clean for years. Murderer, assassin, thief… But this was something good, for a friend, and a friend's children.
He jumped the moat, swiftly climbing the hill on the other side and disappearing into the woods once more. The falling rain splashed against the leaves of the trees and created an eerie weather symphony, which Legault moved through silently, leaving no trail. When he thought he heard cavalry, he vanished into the treetops. When he thought he heard wyverns, he prayed.
He prayed and he ran as hard as he could.
Two days later, a rather bedraggled and drenched thief showed up at the door of the wyvern rider's little house. Priscilla's eyes widened as she opened the door.
"Ma'am," Legault greeted with a low bow. He was soaked to the skin, the rain hadn't abated for the entire two days that he had been on the run. There was a scarlet stain on one side of his shirt. "I would appreciate it if you would let an old friend in."
"Legault! This… This is a surprise," she admitted, stepping aside to let him pass. "Are you alright? You look… Hurt…" Legault waved a hand absently.
"Nothing to concern yourself with, ma'am," he responded. "Hey, Heath! HEATH!"
"Legault!" The wyvern rider ran up, showing no signs of being out of breath. He still trained, they were still young. His two children, a girl and a boy, each had hold of a leg once he had stopped, looking up at this strange visitor with wide eyes.
"Miledy, Zeiss, this is Legault," Heath told them. "He's an old friend of ours. Say hello."
"Hewwo," Zeiss murmured shyly, before burying his face in his father's trousers. Miledy, the elder of the two, simply stared in awe at the violet haired thief.
"I have a present for you," Legault told him, handing Heath the documents he had stolen from the castle. "Happy birthday, my friend." Heath's eyes widened.
"Legault, I… Thank you," he murmured. "Thank you so much…" Legault shrugged.
"Oh, come now, it's nothing," he dismissed it. "Always happy to help out an old friend." Heath nodded slightly, putting the papers down on the nearest side.
"Ah! You were hurt!" He exclaimed, his eyes alighting on the stain. "Would you like to stay a few days, get yourself healed…?" Legault shook his head.
"Gotta keep moving," he responded. "I live on the run, me. Wouldn't want to let your pretty children associate with the wrong crowd, with an old carcass like me." Heath looked concerned. "You know me, Heath… I live in flight," he told him, his grin not quite reaching his eyes.
"Will we see you again?" He asked. Legault laughed.
"Sure thing, Heath. Sure thing," he responded, a haunted look visible for a fleeting second, one that Heath knew all too well. He sighed.
"Why do all this for me?" He murmured. Legault grinned and looked away with a slight laugh.
"…Must be this thing called 'love', you know?" He teased. Heath smiled softly.
"I expect to see you again," he told the thief, who nodded, gave a slight bow to Priscilla and disappeared off into the night.
That may have been the only time they saw the thief, but, fifteen years later, Miledy and Zeiss both thanked the old friend of their father's for letting them have the chance to fight.
Legault had always known how to disappear.
A/N: Reviews make DarkToLight happy! They make her post more stories! And I always like to know how to improve. What's the point in writing if you never improve, hey?