I was just flicking through my ipod the other day, and I came across some (ancient, haha) soundtracks from Legend of the Dragoon. I was like 4, 5, or 6 years old when my brother played it, I still remember what happened and I think I've played some of it myself … Nevertheless, I still remember watching Lavitz's death scene and being unimaginably upset over it :p And in light of the slash-y side of me, I can't help but think about what would have happened in Dart's head when Lavitz died in his arms. Excuse me for any inaccuracies with the story; as I've said I've played the game like a bajillion years ago, so I probably will forget some stuff.

Reviews are well appreciated. :)


"…hang on! Hey!"

It was silent in the prison except for the ragged, shallow breathing of Lavitz and the sound of metal clinking as he shuddered, a pained look on his pale expression.

Dart found it hard to believe that the last time he had gone to Hellena Prison was when he and Lavitz had come to break Shana out of there. He bit his lip, drawing Lavitz closer to him. Dart knew, as he watched Lavitz's feeble breathing, that his friend was going to die, despite whatever attempts he'd make to save him.

Lavitz's eyes focused hazily on Dart's, limp hand reaching upward. Dart grasped it, squeezing it tightly as tears began to prickle at the back of his eyes. His back was facing Albert, Shana, and Rose, though, so they couldn't see.

He wanted to say something, but he had never gotten the chance to in his life.

"Is… is His Majesty Albert…" Lavitz's fingers tightened around Dart's, "…alright?"

Dart opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find a word to say. Yes, King Albert was alright, but …

All Lavitz talked about was His Majesty Albert. Dart, at first, had assumed it was just admiration and faith in his King. However, gradually, Dart started to turn snappish whenever Lavitz mentioned the name Albert, and when he had met the king, he had acted slightly cold.

Dart had then realised he didn't like Lavitz acting so obsessively over the king, but his pride refused to admit he was just jealous.

He had mentally berated himself; how could he be jealous of King Albert? The man rightfully deserved Lavitz's respect. Dart had struggled with himself for days—why would he want Lavitz's extensively high regard? Lavitz was just his damn friend, just his companion, just his comrade—and all Dart should want would be Lavitz's friendship and loyalty back, is all.

And Dart did get that.

When they sat around fires, pigging out on food they had reserved for just this day, dancing in the flickering fire light with Shana when they'd gained victory over a well-fought battle, or just talking, sharing stories, or listening to Rose's epics, Dart had sensed that warm feeling of friendship, of belonging. Yet he couldn't help himself sitting a bit closer to Lavitz than he needed to, his attention more on the knight when Rose was talking about a dangerous creature—she gave Dart knowing looks all through the story—and in the end Dart had come to the conclusion that he indeed was jealous of King Albert, and he wanted something more from Lavitz. Something more, other than just friendship.

And Dart was too embarrassed and shy to admit that.

Dart had always wanted to say I love you—when Lavitz emerged from the lakeside shirtless, soaking wet from a bath in there, when Lavitz did a perfect Harpoon move on a monster, when Lavitz had that concentrated look on his face while polishing his sword, when Lavitz transformed into his Dragoon form and was just plain beautiful in his jade-coloured armour, when Lavitz did something as simple as run his scarred fingers through his messy, loveably short, blonde hair.

And now, as Dart softly ran his own fingers through Lavitz's hair, he realised he would never get a chance to say it.

He would never get a chance to sneak glances at Lavitz when he wasn't looking, to focus on Lavitz's smile and only his smile, to always look at Lavitz while he cracked a joke to see if he was laughing, to ask Lavitz what he wanted for his birthday, to have butterflies float around in his stomach whenever he saw Lavitz, to have a chance to say those three words to him but chicken out when the time came.

"Yes… yes," Dart answered quietly, eyes only for Lavitz.

Lavitz managed to nod his head once, a strangely sad smile on his face.

"I see…" he murmured, and his hand slipped out of Dart's. For a terrible moment, Dart thought Lavitz had already slipped away from life—but no, he had raised his hand with some more unbidden strength to gently touch Dart's face.

Dart leaned forwards into Lavitz's touch.

"I can entrust you with … everything, then," Lavitz whispered, still smiling that bittersweet smile of his.

Dart was silent, knowing that Lavitz was going to leave in a few moments, but this realisation just made him clutch the knight closer to him, setting a tear rolling down his dusty and bruised face. He didn't know what to do; that familiar feeling of desperation hit him like a ton of bricks.

"I…" Dart started, dully startled that his voice seemed to have risen an octave, his other hand reaching up to catch Lavitz's own lowering hand, and his eyes on Lavitz's, "…love…"

He never was able to finish his words as Lavitz's cold fingers dropped through Dart's warm ones.

Something—life, Dart supposed—had vanished from Lavitz's dark brown eyes.

Dart hunched over Lavitz's body, trembling, the pain of his own wounds beginning to kick in. His friend, his companion, his comrade, his love, was gone.

And Dart had never gotten to say those three words that had been in his vocabulary purely for the knight, and now he was gone.

"…you."