A/N: Free fluff. Heath/Priscilla is adorable. I wrote this a while ago and just recently found it. Enjoy and please review :)
Words: 634
Characters: Heath, Priscilla
Time: Any
Genre: Romance
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Nintendo, not me.
He waited patiently at the edge of the large campsite, completing whatever busy work he could, such as polishing his spear or tending to Hyperion's saddle. Both were in need of serious repair, he realized. Perhaps magic could fix them. But it was too early to be thinking of magic now. Glancing briefly at the healer's tent, Heath saw small shadows and shapes still moving around inside. She was still working. Nothing stood between her and taking care of the injured, he knew only too well, for she would often risk her own life to reach a comrade in need. Every time she did something so dangerous, Heath's heart would hammer against his chest until she was safe beside him again.
When the sun had nearly been swallowed by the craggy mountaintops, she emerged from her tent, looking strained and tired. She glanced quickly across the clearing before hurrying to Heath, bending as if to check a wound on his leg. Heath sat down on the grass. Lifting her chin with his fingers, he met her clear green eyes and trying to read her emotions. She blushed, her beautiful face turning bright pink. Wordlessly Heath rose and pulled her with him, the pair of them slipping into the nearby copse of pine trees. Hidden from the rest of the army now, Heath touched her face and brushed her auburn her hair behind her ears, imagining those eyes filled with love for all of time, rather than for just the rapidly closing window of time they had together.
For they were bound to be separated when the war was over, they both knew. They could not be in love. So it led to a dilemma – to desire to the war to end, to save lives, or to wish it longer, to extend the time they had together? But every moment, they risked their own lives; every second of the war was dangerous. Heath knew it had to end, as soon as possible.
Slowly – carefully – he leaned forward and kissed her, gentle and chaste. She was so young, so innocent, so kind and pure. And he… he was a fugitive from Bern. That alone said enough. He had too many scars to count, he was worn and beaten, doomed to be forever fleeing justice. She deserved someone so much better, so much more royal. But all the same, he couldn't resist holding her, her small body fitting perfectly in his arms as if she was meant to be nowhere else. Priscilla's lips were soft and hesitant at first. But when Heath started to pull away, she shook her head, sliding her hand to the nape of his neck. She kissed him back, a little more certainly now, her touch sending tingles all the way up Heath's spine.
Eventually, they broke apart to breathe, resting their foreheads together with their noses barely touching. Priscilla was standing on her tiptoes. Her cheeks were vivid red now, but she didn't protest when Heath pulled her even closer; she even smiled and closed her eyes. But it was a bittersweet smile; her tightly closed eyes were holding back tears.
For all too soon, this moment would end. And with each moment that ended, the closing of war grew ever closer, their inevitable separation looming in the distance just as darkly and dangerously as Nergal and his dragons. It might be the last time they would see each other, hear each other, and feel each other.
But, at the very least, there was one thing that Heath knew would never change. He ran his fingers through her short, disheveled hair, letting her tears leave a small dark spot on his tunic. No matter how far apart they were, he would always remember her.
He would always love her.