Game of Love:

A Heath/Legault love story

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. This story should be ending soon. Many sincere thank yous to those who have been sticking it out!

Note: About the eye color of Heath... I've taken a picture of him from the game/official art and stared at his eye color and it's non-existent. It looked kinda yellow in-game, which is why I refer to it as I do. I've seen fan art and others refer to them as green, however, so I just wanted to let everyone know I did do my research. I'm still unsure what's official, though.

Legault couldn't face Heath without a little aid. So, he drained a glass of wine before the wyvern rider arrived. He was strongly tempted to down the entire bottle, but he forced himself to put the bottle away, out of sight. It was one thing calling Heath to his room, it was another thing calling him to his room while he was inebriated. Turn the tables a bit. Heath had never really witnessed a drunken Legault, but it was probably something his fragile little mind couldn't handle. Although, he would love to see Heath drunk again.

Why hadn't he just let Heath screw him that night? At least he could have died happy. Hah, who was he kidding? He would have died miserable and alone because Heath would never speak to him again. Either that, or he would have died at Heath's hands, which didn't sound so bad at this point. At least in the latter situation, he really would have died happy.

Maybe he should pour Heath a glass? He was bound to be all wired up. If he even showed. Legault thought he was pretty good at reading people, but Heath sometimes did things just to be contrary. So, who was the one conspiring here?

Legault sighed. His little "game" had failed. In trying to make Heath fall in love with him, he was the one who had ultimately fallen. What a mess he'd made. If he'd never approached the young Bern soldier out of curiosity, he might never be in this situation.

He smiled wryly to himself. Don't lie to yourself. You don't regret speaking to him. In your own perverse way, you're actually enjoying this. If there was one thing assassin was good at, it was jumping headfirst into a situation like this. If you don't try, you fail.

Legault grabbed the bottle from its hiding place. It didn't do much good to hide something from yourself. Whether it be a bottle of wine or some upwelling of emotion. He poured a second glass. He wouldn't get drunk off a couple glasses of wine. Yes. He did have those moments, more often than not, where he enjoyed toying with Heath. Watching him grow angry, shouting out how crazy he was making him… That was amusing. He'd had to bite back some obvious teasing responses. The part that wasn't so amusing was the fact that Legault couldn't seem to make Heath believe him.

Distressing, that.

Legault had just finished his second glass when he heard the knock on his door. His lips quirked up. "That must be him now."

He went to the door and opened it a crack, half expecting to see somebody like Priscilla or Nino standing there. Priscilla with a message, Nino just to be nosy. No… That would be Serra. See, this is why he preferred Heath. He wasn't nosy or simpering or pushy. Hm… Now, how would things have gone if he'd decided to pursue Isadora instead of Heath? Possibly leagues better. Heath was amusing, but he was also stubborn. So, yes, Legault was actually surprised to see the wyvern rider standing at the door. The man faced away from the door, his face obscured by the shadows of the hallway. His arms were crossed and he seemed impatient… and nervous. Legault's lips curved upwards and opened the door wider.

"It's Heath. How unexpected."

Heath turned sharply, then scowled at Legault. He made a slight, jumpy move forward, as if he planned on charging past Legault into the room, but stilled himself before doing so.

"Cut the crap."

"My, my, somebody's in a foul temper," Legault observed, moving aside to allow Heath inside the room. He made sure not to stand too close. Whatever Heath had done with Hyperion up in the air didn't seem to have improved his mood much. This could mean several things; few of which didn't lay in Legault's favor. He's angry and annoyed, which means he's fighting himself. If he's fighting himself, that means he's realized something he'd rather not. Which means… Well, for the most part, it seemed that way, but he could never be too sure. Not with Heath.

Meanwhile, the young man had slipped by Legault after a quick glance down the empty halls. Embarrassed, is he? Legault closed the door behind him, watching as Heath gave the room a cursory glance. It was nothing special, as castle rooms went. Medium sized, regular sized beds, decent enough drapes and accompanying furniture. Legault kept it tidy, which might surprise most people, because Legault had been a thief once, after all. They did seem to have a penchant for mess and clutter. Legault had lived with them, he'd witnessed it firsthand. It hadn't bothered him, but this place wasn't really his, so he felt responsible for its upkeep. Despite the fact that the castle had staff to do that. Besides, that, his two roommates weren't around often. Matthew had his wild myrmidon to tame and Jaffar… Well, it was difficult to think of him making a mess of things even if he were in the room all day long.

Legault lingered in his place at the door, just drinking in the sight of Heath. He didn't seem to recognize that he was a fine looking specimen. Scruffy, unkempt hair, golden eyes—which were currently glaring at him. It was okay, though. It was just a mild glare, with no real heat behind it.

"Well?" Heath finally broke the silence. "Why am I here?"

"Why are you here?" Legault responded reflexively. Oops, was he playing games again? He didn't even have the grace to wince inwardly at himself.

"I came here because you asked me to. Or did you conveniently forget that? Or maybe," Heath said, picking up the bottle of wine. "You had a little too much to drink?"

"I suppose you know a thing or two about that one."

Heath paled. "We've all been drunk before."


Heath set the bottle down. "Look, you asked me to be here. I'm here. What. Did. You. Want?"

"I think I've answered that question before."

Heath gave him a Look and crossed his arms again. Legault put up his hands in surrender.

"I know, I know. No games. I promise. Well, I'll promise to try, anyway. I can't help myself sometimes. Automatic reflexes, all that."

Heath's expression didn't change much; Legault could practically taste the man's skepticism. He moved away from the door, silent as a cat, skirting Heath and going over to the table where Heath had set the bottle of wine down.

"Well, listen, this is silly…" The assassin started, knowing full well he was trying to stall the moment of truth. He just had to remember the conversation with Nino. He couldn't slither out of this. But it really was quite silly.

"And that's different from any other time we talk, how?"

Oh, he was growing some thorns now. Legault's smile widened and he shook his head as he reached forward—and Heath grabbed his wrist. Pale lavender eyebrows popped up as he turned his head slightly to gaze at Heath.

"No more alcohol."

"That's not what I was going for." Legault touched the inside of Heath's wrist with his fingers. Heath's eyes darkened, then darted downward, before he started to release his grip. Legault began to withdraw his hand when… Heath grasped his wrist again, tighter. Legault blinked.

"How do I know—"

"I'm not tricking you?" Legault smiled. "Simple. I said no games. I meant no games. But by all means, if you'd like to continue holding onto me, I'm not objecting."

Heath seemed at a loss for words. Legault expected his next move to be an angry step back, but instead he sighed and lowered his hand, still holding onto Legault's wrist. The assassin gave that motion a quizzical look, but he was interested. What did the wyvern rider have planned?

Heath cleared his throat. "So…"

The prompting in that one little word was unmistakable. One really couldn't blame him. Usually when your presence is requested somewhere, you tend to want to know why. Legault flexed his fingers before nodding his head towards what sat a little ways beside the green bottle with the peeling paper. Heath's gaze followed, and fell on the little brown bag. He could feel the other man's body grow tense for a second. Their conversation by the tree came to mind.

"What is that?" Ah, and there was the suspicious Heath he knew so well.

"It's silly, is what that is."

The expression on Heath's face as he said that was interesting. He sort of blinked in surprise, and a moment later he outright laughed. It was a beautiful sound. Gruff and rusty, revealing just how little he laughed. It was unlike any other sound in the world. And Legault loved it. He raised an eyebrow and allowed the butterflies free reign in his chest. It had been a long time since he'd felt anything like it.

"Are you embarrassed?" Heath asked, staring down at him and pulling him forward slightly. Legault somehow doubted it was a conscious effort on the other man's part. "You're embarrassed, aren't you?"

"Maybe a little."

"Why? What's in there?"

"The reason you're in here."

"The reason I'm in here?"

"Yes. That bag is directly related with the reason I asked you to come here."

Heath gave the bag a dubious once over. It was a small leather pouch, really. Worn and soft from use. He was probably wondering what value something like it held. Or perhaps he thought Legault was joking. When Heath said nothing, Legault tilted his head a little.

"Aren't you the least bit curious?"

The lovely smile that had graced the wyvern rider's face only a moment ago was now gone. Something like worry stole over his expression, darkening it. Damn it, he was withdrawing again, and Legault knew little enough how to stop him from doing it, but he had to try. He reached up with his free hand and caressed Heath's jaw line with the barest of touches. His thumb traced his cheekbone. In a voice little over a whisper he said Heath's name. The young man reluctantly did as Legault was hoping he would; he looked into his eyes. It was kind of funny, because Legault had wanted Heath's attention to assure him there was nothing perverted within the bag, nor money or whatever else it was Heath thought it was. Only, now that he had his attention, his mouth had gone dry and he couldn't think on what it was he had been so desperate to convey. It wasn't like him to let his emotions get the best of him, but damn, he was awash in that golden gaze.

"Trust me…Please." The words came out more pleading than he would have liked—despite his choice in words, but it seemed to have worked, because Heath drew him closer. Those infernal butterflies were fluttering a lot faster now, up from his chest and into his throat. Heath seemed to be searching his eyes for something, and he seemed to have found it, whatever he was looking for, because his own free hand went around his waist to gently pull their bodies together. Legault held his breath, certain that Heath was going to come to his senses and push him away any second now. Instead, he lowered his head, hesitant.

Is he going to kiss me? He only had that split second to wonder before he had his answer. Lips touched his, slowly, questioning. Why is he kissing me? Would he ever fully understand Heath? Cold and distant one moment, and kissing him the next? Oh, who cared? He was kissing him. It was some kind of miracle. Unless he'd had some help from the bottle before this encounter as well. He couldn't help smirking at that. Heath paused, went to move back. Legault's return kiss stopped his retreat.

No, he thought after he'd opened Heath's mouth to his. He's definitely not drunk.

Running his hand along the wyvern rider's neck, Legault nudged Heath backwards a step. Heath broke free of the kiss, his breath coming harsh. It was a little hard to breathe when you forgot there was such a thing as air. Wait for it.

"Why…?" Came the breathless question. Legault nuzzled Heath's jaw with half closed eyes. Gods, he smelled delicious enough to eat. He licked his throat experimentally. Heath shuddered, then jerked back. "H-hey!"

"Sorry, but you were tempting… What were you saying?"

"Never mind…" Heath's eyes went to the bag on the table. Legault's followed.

"Curious yet?"

"Maybe a little." Heath smiled as he echoed Legault's own words back to him.

"You should smile more often. Looks good on you."

Heath looked away, but he didn't look angry—for once. Now who was embarrassed? Legault stayed where he was only a moment longer, and then he finally moved away from Heath. He wanted to know why the sudden change of heart, but if there was one thing he was learning from each interaction with Heath, it was to let Heath do things at his own pace. So, the assassin perched at the end of the nearest bed and watched the wyvern rider, waiting for his next action. Would he look in the bag? Would he drink some of the alcohol? Would he turn around and leave the room? Mutter about why he was here?

For a long moment, Heath did nothing, and then… He turned and regarded Legault with an unreadable expression. Legault leaned back on his hands and smiled just the slightest, turning his head. "Hm…"

Heath frowned, but he glanced back at the table and finally plucked the bag up. He pulled the drawstring open and peered in with confusion. His eyes went to Legault, who did nothing but stare back at him. Heath turned his attention back to the bag, shaking its contents into his other palm.

They were the tiniest of little wooden carvings. A silly thing, really. Legault had made them some time ago for little Nino, but she had given them back to Legault, saying "you really made these for somebody else, didn't you?" Legault's gaze fixed on Heath, waiting.

Heath picked up one of the little carvings between his thumb and forefinger, staring at it.

"Is that…Hyperion?" He breathed.

"Hm… Yes."

Heath glanced at him before setting the first one on the table and inspecting another.

"These are amazing. They look just like him. How did you ever manage to get one of him sleeping?"

Legault shrugged.

"Why were you so embarrassed?" Heath asked as he put the last one on the table.

"You need to rearrange them."

"What?" Heath screwed up his face, turning back to the little row of eight tiny wooden Hyperion figures. Legault sat up and started to move the figures into their proper alignment, but he'd seen something that appeared to be recognition dawning on his face. Before Legault could finish the order, Heath shook his head and knocked Legault's hand away.

Legault slowly withdrew it. Heath stared at the figures, his jaw tight. I'm losing him again. For the span of a long breath, nothing was exchanged between them, neither man moved. Then… The wyvern rider reached out and took hold of the figure Legault had held last, and he placed it in the right spot. He didn't turn to face the assassin, his hand didn't leave the figure.

"Perhaps… I should explain…" Legault started, but Heath glared at him, effectively halting his words. He spoke next, voice rough-edged and raw.

"How can you possibly know if this is true or not?"

"How do you know the wind is there?"

"Because, I feel—" Heath drew in a breath and looked away, sweeping a hand through his hair. Right. You know that's what my answer is.

Legault did not smile, smirk, or otherwise give Heath any sort of look of superiority. He felt long past that. Too tired of playing games, guessing at Heath's true thoughts.

"Heath," Legault began softly, letting the name float in the air for a few seconds. "Just because I feel this way, doesn't mean I expect you to return the sentiment. I'm just tired of you seeing me as some kind of scoundrel. What have I to gain from toying with you? I've done nothing but lost from the moment I first spoke to you."

"That's putting a really negative spin to things."

"I like to see it more as bittersweet, myself."

Heath stared at the figures again.

"They're yours, you know. No strings attached."

Heath let out a growl of frustration, grabbing Legault roughly by the shoulders. His golden gaze bore desperately into Legault's.

"But how can you be so sure, Legault? How do you know that's what you're feeling and not something else? What if it's just plain want? Or what if you just don't know the difference? How can you look at me and know it's only me? How long do expect that will last? How—?"

"Are you asking me these questions, or yourself?"

"You! I'm asking…! No, I just… I don't know. I want to know, but I…I'm…"

"Afraid to find out?"

"Damn it, Legault!" The wyvern rider let go of the assassin's shoulders and began to pace.

"I already told you, I don't expect you to return the sentiment. I'll just find work elsewhere."

Heath stopped. "Why?"

"You'd really want me to stick around? Knowing what you know about me?"

"M-maybe you'd..."

"Outgrow it? I'm a grown man, Heath. It's not puppy love." He stood up and grabbed the wine bottle. "Now… If you'll excuse me, I think I need to find a corner and maybe finish this little baby off."

Heath blocked his path to the door, placing a hand on Legault's chest.

"You're not seriously thinking of getting plastered now, are you?"

"Think of it this way; it's my way of taking to the air, if you will."

"You can't think while you're drunk."

"That's sort of the point."

"But I take to the air to think—Never mind that!" Heath took a few steps forward, pushing Legault back. "You're not going anywhere until we figure things out."

"Oh, I understand. You're allowed to run and hide whenever it suits you, but I have to stay on your whim, is that it?"

"No, I…"

"I see, I see. Is there anything else? Because as I see it, there's only one person in this room that has anything to figure out, and we both know it isn't me."

"You're so frustrating!"

"So are you!"

Heath grabbed Legault by the shirt with both hands. Legault paid it no mind, almost welcomed it. He lifted his bottle to get a drink—right up close in Heath's face, when his lips met lips instead. Lips that crushed against his, hard, hot, and passionate. Nothing at all like their previous kiss. Legault's head swam as Heath pulled back, looking shocked with his own actions.

Legault expected the wyvern rider to take off now, ashamed with himself and needing his usual space to think, but instead, Heath pushed him against the wall. He watched the golden eyes close. Legault licked his lips, poised and waiting.

"How do I stop thinking…?" Heath whispered.

"About?" Say it for me.


Legault smiled slyly and wrapped his arms around Heath's neck "What if I don't want you to?"

Heath let out a shivering little breath. Fingers entwined in his hair and Legault watched him through half-lidded eyes.

Heath kissed him again.