RP blog AFFILIATED with TOA, but observers are welcome !
However, this blog will not interact with anyone outside of TOA.
PORTRAYAL NOTES .
Leo relies on logic and reason to guide his actions, but he is actually a very emotional person deep down. His feelings often leave him conflicted and confused, and logic is the path that guides him out of his indecision. However, it isn't hard for him to get carried away and lose sight of his reason — he is prone to occasional outbursts, and may even panic if publicly embarrassed (see: his inside-out collar). He still has a good bit of maturing to do in my eyes, despite being aged up for TOA.
I write Leo's narration and internal monologue with his inner turmoil on full display, because I especially love unwrapping the side of him that he tries so hard to hide. However, please keep in mind that externally, Leo has a pretty good poker face and has mastered the art of hiding his expressions (see: narrow range of emotion in his dialogue sprites). Maintaining a polite, perfect mask was his defense mechanism in the court of Nohr. Your muse is welcome to pick up on his uneasy undercurrents, but please keep in mind that his expressions are not that easy to read unless he's having an outburst.
Despite my portrayal focusing on Leo's imperfections, don't forget he is generally regarded as an outstanding genius. He is notorious for wearing his clothing inside-out, but this is moreso a surprising quirk than a knock against his intelligence or dignity. Also, he likes to sleep just as much as Corrin, so his wardrobe mishaps are mostly due to being a slugabed... Please don't make this the center or sole gag when interacting with him! I consider it a fairly minute detail of his character.
Leo's muse page contains more information about his situation in TOA and how he relates to others, in case you'd like to discuss or adjust your muse's responses to him. Please do give it a read!
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“at this rate, i'd agree,” linhardt replies sarcastically in turn.
what is this guy's problem? a paragon of knowledge? linhardt's never claimed to be that. linhardt's never claimed to be anything other than linhardt. linhardt is sleepy; he's driven; he'd like to think he's kind; he'd like to think he's thoughtful and caring. who cares about wisdom or grades?
all that drivel sends leo high on the list - soaring past mother and seteth and even edelgard. here you are, sir: the most annoying person linhardt has ever met.
they consider testing the limits of the hand-magic with a warp spell. it is so tempting, but logic dictates unfortunate outcomes (linhardt is warped with him, which is embarrassing; linhardt's hand or the majority of skin on his hand is ripped away, which is problematic mostly for the reason that it means linhardt will bleed and that is gross; it will somehow backfire with a fail safe the cleric foresaw when applying the spell and somehow make the spell worse; et cetera) so they refrain.
“i can think of some one who'd be able to spar like this,” linhardt muses, mostly because they want to annoy leo half as much as he's annoying them. “and three who would be fine with dragging me around - which is my preference, since you asked so magnanimously.”
trying to get linhardt off by explaining his research. no thank you, linhardt does not need any worse punitive measure for discovering who is and isn't a dragon.
“it's almost fascinating how much you dislike me despite having just met,” he continues. “you seemed so happy to lick boots when they were applying the spell, and i know i'm not that unpleasant. just let me sleep and you can pretend you're suffering from some manner of hemiparesis.”
Maybe it's Linhardt's perpetually drowsy demeanor, but Leo feels further exhausted the longer he remains in the other's presence. A cheery prospect, to be sure, given their joint imprisonment for the near future. "Look... Since neither of us are keen on mincing words here, I'll be straight with you. I can't fathom you. You're brilliant, a son of nobility, excelling in your studies, but you’re never in class. You don't seem excited to be here, but you're not full of yourself, either. So how do the top two students of our class wind up bound together like criminals? Am I supposed to instruct you? Ridiculous."
He inclines his head instead of making another failed, embarrassing gesture. "I consider it an honor to walk among the finest scholars in the land here, and I intend to learn all I can while I can. There are some here who are squandering their time shamelessly, and I find it incredible that the Church considers you one of them. More than me disliking you, Linhardt, this was a poor way to meet, but I can't say you've done your reputation any favors."
He'll ignore the bootlicking comment... for now. Proud though Leo is, he has the sense to recognize that if he wants to get anywhere, he has to cede some ground. "You may not believe me, but I'm not exactly eager to drag you around behind me all day. I'd prefer you on both feet, cognizant of your surroundings, and—— No... Forget it. I'd rather you just walked off and went about your own business. Come on; we're going to the library."
In spite of his words, Leo brooks no argument here: the prince abruptly rises from his chair, only winding around the table to ensure Linhardt doesn't get yanked across it. "Either I find a way to break this seal, or we'll have to cram together in my dorm room for the night. If that bothers you, why don’t you apply some of that brilliance of yours, too?"
he opens his eyes here only to grant leo a sour look. such emotions may not befit linhardt's soft features, but when the time calls for it…
“i'm not about to tell you about all my research just so you can put an end to it, thank you.”
it's funny how that works. normally, linhardt could speak for ages about their interests to anyone who might listen. some one like leo, though, and that desire dries up like a shallow puddle on a summer's day in enbarr. not to mention most of the monastery staff would balk at half of the truths linhardt's discovered, and suppress the other.
“why don't you just go about your day like i'm not even here and save us both the headache?” he suggests. he suspects leo will have a much harder time doing such a thing than linhardt might, so at the very least if he tries linhardt might have a laugh about it.
Leo levels an equally irritated look at Linhardt. I'm trying to do you a favor, he thinks, and it's written all over his face, but is it his fault if his classmate wants to go digging ditches instead?
"'Research,' is it? Sounds grand. Staying up all night poring over secret formulae and notes, so tired you can't keep your eyes open during lecture... Yet you still have the mastery to grasp your subjects. I can see it now. What a paragon of wisdom and knowledge you are!" The prince's tone is as dry as the expression on his face. Is he irritated that his classmate is supposedly dedicating himself to undisclosed "research" whilst breezing through their courses? That he is not privy to such information? Only if Leo is honest with himself.
But if there's one thing Leo hates, it's being told what to do by someone he doesn't care to listen to. He crosses his arms, scowls when he drags Linhardt halfway across the table, pushes them back to the median. Gods! He's going to lose his mind.
"I want to be rid of you," he says bluntly. "As soon as possible. I've been fishing for a reason to hand to the disciplinary committee to let you off the hook. But you are ever so determined to make things difficult, big and small, that I'm impressed by your obstinance.
"Besides, do you think I can pretend nothing's wrong when I've got to drag you everywhere with me? I don't know how they imagine I'll be able to spar with one hand fused to a slugabed! Or should I interpret this as a weight training exercise and drag you around the monastery three times?" Out of habit, the blonde waves his hand for emphasis again. He stops, closes his eyes, and forces a long breath through his lungs. "...Look, Linhardt. If I can't be rid of you in orderly fashion, I may as well just cut off your hand and call it appropriate punitive measure."
"i've been called both before," they reply nonchalantly. they can feel leo manipulating their hand again, almost purposely. if he's meaning to bother them physically, he'll have to try harder than that. they've certainly slept through worse.
mentally, he certainly isn't entirely nonchalant. leo's clear distaste for linhardt reminds him too closely of edelgard, or worse: his mother. and linhardt's usual strategy for avoiding that displeasure is walking away.
they sigh deeply through their nose. "if you must know, i actually take my time here very seriously, and despite that, i am deeply enjoying my time here."
hopefully leo will believe the truth as it is set before him, and maybe he'll shut up enough to allow linhardt to drift off into a deep enough sleep that they can, well, sleep through this.
In spite of his ire, Leo is not impossible to reason with. Linhardt's reply could come off as mere excuse, but in truth, how else could they have secured a score above his? Regardless, it irks Leo. It's his turn to sigh.
"If that's the case... Why don't the monastery staff recognize your dedication? I struggle to see how a student with excelling marks could be treated as a delinquent in need of reprimand. Or are you doing worse than sleeping through class?"
It takes all of Leo's willpower to keep his hand still. He'll comfortably rest in the same position for the entirety of a conversation — emphasis on comfortably. Every time he inadvertently tugs Linhardt's hand, it makes Leo angrier. But that, he can at least recognize as a problem neither of them are responsible for.
linhardt watches, bemused, as leo becomes the first victim of their punishment's magic. he lets the blond manipulate his hand as he pleases, including the point where his fingers bump awkwardly into the hand leo had meant to fold with the other.
a small smile crosses his lips, but that's all.
prince leo of nohr, he says, as if linhardt knows/cares where nohr is and as if the academy didn't strictly discourage treating each other as budding world leaders.
when they give their name, they deliver it with closed eyes, ready again to go back to sleep. “i'm linhardt. i'd hoped they'd tell you the sort of trouble i usually get up to. can you imagine if my problem behavior had been punching blonds?”
Linhardt? Leo's feigned smile turns into a grimace as the exam scores from earlier flash through his mind. Gods help me.
"I said reasoning, not reasons. I was trying to give you a chance to plead your own case, Linhardt von Hevring, but I can see you're bent on digging your own grave instead." The blonde lifts their hands, waggling them slightly. "Tell me, how can you be the top of our class when you've been this truant? Is the Academy a joke to you? Why don't you just skip your exams too, while you're at it?"
He isn't bitter about the test scores. Not really. The real thorn in his side is discovering that the youth before him doesn't seem to put an ounce of care into his actions. It's a disgrace to academia and an insult to the pursuit of knowledge. The fact that he's outscored Leo, who applies himself daily... Well, maybe it's a bit of a sore point. Just a little. And why is he falling asleep again?!
"I can't tell if you're a genius or a fool. Do you understand the subject matter so well you don't even need to come to class? Is that it?"
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What can be considered a cause "worthy" of shedding royal blood? Does it matter? Leo embarks on a familiar task, but the thoughts and feelings accompanying him are unfamiliar indeed.
[ independent study 🩎 drabbles .⋆⁺ᝰ🪶 ]
TW: blood and gore, AKA Leo kills a lot of people; emotional manipulation
Leo stares at the blood oozing down his forearm. The man before him is already bringing his blade around for another swing, intent on butchering the prince. A thin, cruel smile curls Leo's lips.
Magic surges from his tome through his fingers, crucifying his assailant on unnaturally sharp branches before the man can even scream. Life decays as quickly as it bursts forth, and an abandoned sword clattering onto the cobbles is the only remnant of the ruffian's existence.
"Worthless fool." Leo turns and hobbles away from the street, his leg injured from an earlier altercation. This mission has proved arduous, particularly with no allies to back him up, but any opponent who mistakes the injured prince for easy pickings hasn't lived to learn from their arrogance.
Returning to his camp, nestled in a secluded yet safe alcove overlooking town, Leo lowers himself to the floor of his tent with a soft grunt. Stripping off his clothing, he assesses the damages: a nasty gash across his right calf, caked in blood fresh and old, and a slice on his left arm that's slowly turned his hand numb.
He curses softly under his breath as he cleans the wounds and brushes ointment over them, gritting his teeth as the medicine stings his raw flesh. How embarrassing, to bleed in such dark, dilapidated streets. Niles would likely have a saucy word or two to describe it, if only he were here. Instead, Leo is left remembering his mother's shrill words to him after an accident outside the castle.
"Foolish child! Do you have any idea how much your blood is worth?! The proud lineage of the Dusk Dragon flows through your veins. And you shed it for some lowly commoners in the road? Do you think anyone will praise you for that?"
The young prince had cradled his bandaged hand closer to himself, eyes downcast. "They were unarmed, Mother. And I had a sword."
That was all he could get in edgewise. "Your blade is for the service of Nohr, not some peasants! His Highness saw fit to gift you a fine sword, and you're already scorning his generosity by fighting in petty squabbles! Leo, Leo... Your poor mother is so worried for you. Look at your hand. How will you keep up with your training now? I heard Prince Xander is already permitted to spar with the army's general."
He winds bandages around his injuries, stemming the flow of blood, staring hollowly as it quickly soaks through. Royalty or not, he bleeds like any other man. On this continent, there are no Dragon Veins to resonate with the Dusk Dragon's blessing, no nightcursed lands to ensnare the enemy and stifle their spirits.
Was he wrong to defend those peasants? He doesn't think so. Performing chivalrous feats merely to be seen and praised is laughably shallow. Is his duty to Nohr not a duty to its people? If he will not defend the least of them, for whom does he hone his talents? His mother tried to poise him to take the crown, but now he defends it.
"A king lives and dies for his people," Xander had said, and Leo trusted his words far more than he ever trusted his mother's.
He ties off his bandages tightly, using his teeth to finish off the one round his forearm. While this is hardly the prince's first solo mission — Father loved to test his mettle in his latter years — he sorely misses his stave-wielding allies.
A sudden bitterness twists Leo's mouth, and it isn't the healing tonic he's swallowing down. Perhaps it's the sentiment that he's gotten weak, if he cannot complete a solo mission without sustaining this many injuries. Has he grown so reliant on others?
Voices float to the forefront of his mind: recent conversations, troubling ones.
"Perhaps a hobby could do you some good?"
"Haven't you got any friends?"
Leo wants to cry out, "My life is for the crown of Nohr! I have spent every waking hour honing myself, serving my family, and quenching the flames of war. Do you think I have had idle time for frivolty and merriment?"
He cannot. He cannot say a word in response to those voices, laced with concern and — dare he say — care. When did anyone in Nohr ever care, aside from finding ways to dissect his behavior into scandals? Why should it be anyone's concern whether he feels fulfilled, whether he sleeps well at night, whether he trusts a single soul besides his own family?
The "friends" of kings and princes are merely allies and comrades, meant to be treated with respect and decorum. Those who walk at the forefront of their nations also walk alone. Isn't that the reality of their world?
Leo pulls a fresh shirt and pants on, trembling a little with the effort. He wonders, idly, if anyone at the monastery would mourn his passing if he did not return. Foolishness! Failure is the greatest shame of them all — and he would never fail.
But... Truly, who among the students and faculty would care if the foreign prince among them vanished? If he packed up and moved back home, would anyone miss him? Leo settles back against his bedroll with a groan, dizzy. I must be delirious from blood loss, to be entertaining such nonsense...
He closes his eyes, allowing his consciousness to lapse. He dreams of returning to Nohr, a great parade lining the streets of Windmire all the way up to the gates of Castle Krakenburg. He rides Briar through showers of rose petals, countless faces beaming and shouting his name...
Inside the royal gardens, he draws his own blood and sprinkles it over a small hole in the ground. "My blood for my people."
A mighty, mighty tree rises from the earth, twisting its trunk into the sky, blocking out the sun with its crimson leaves. Leo lifelessly collapses at its roots, and it folds him into its embrace, drinking deeply of his blood. "Nobody will remember you, but you are still my son."
When he wakes, his bandages are matted, but his wounds have formed thin scabs. He treats them, redresses them, and shares a few tender words with Briar before turning his attention towards town. It's time to finish what he began.
Magic flashes in the dark alleys as Leo purges the streets of vermin. They are few in number now, only approaching in ones and twos, many instead cowering in their dilapidated hideouts. They come at him with knives, with axes and with rusted swords; he crushes one into unrecognizable paste, smirks at the stricken survivor, and holds Brynhildr aloft. "Are you frightened? You should be!"
The dark tome consumes their lives eagerly, branches and stems piercing limbs and organs, feeding its own proliferating life with human blood. His enemies try to surround him, using their familiarity with the back alleys to ambush him. It matters not: Leo draws the sword at his side, parrying and thrusting, leaving their bodies strewn like abandoned dolls. The wound on his arm reopens, but he only grips his blade tighter.
When he has finally purged the streets of that dark town, the air reeks of death. The blonde drips with blood as he walks, leaving a gruesome trail in his wake. Whether it is his own or that of his enemies, he cares not.
A young woman sees him emerging from the alleys and screams, fleeing in abject terror. Leo only sets his eyes towards the horizon, walking one agonizing step at a time towards his camp. The townsfolk freeze around him, soft murmurs swirling round his figure. This crazed knight introduced himself as a prince, entering their slums in crisp black uniform and returning bathed in crimson. What prince would shed blood so ruthlessly? Madman!
But before they can decide to drive him away, he is already gone, climbing a long, long hill on the outskirts of town and stumbling through a copse of trees. Briar is there, sweet Briar, and Leo slumps against her neck, drawing on her quiet strength. She does not fear the stench of death, only nudging him gently with his nose and whinnying a welcome.
"I am ever so tired," Leo murmurs to her, a distant smile on his face. "Good girl... good girl."
He makes her lie down, leaning heavy against her as he swallows more medicine and assesses his injuries. They are nothing serious, but he has lost a significant amount of blood over the past few days by refusing to let them mend.
The prince folds his hands in his lap, letting his neck crane back to gaze at the sky. What would it be like to have a friend at his side right now, making dinner and cracking jokes to lighten the atmosphere? He wouldn't have to struggle to bandage his wounds with one hand anymore, would he? If he had some light hobby to occupy his mind, would he no longer see the faces of those he slaughtered when he lies down to sleep?
But instead, he sees the face of his father, grey and dour with age. "A ring of smugglers has been plaguing this town. The magistrate reports that they have stolen from the army of Nohr. Go, and leave none alive."
The streets of that town had been rife with hardened men: ex-conscripts, convicts, deserters. Some had suffered starvation and homelessness, resorting to thievery and murder to fuel their waning lives. Others had been forced to commit atrocities in the Nohrian army and had fled, swearing retribution.
Leo had not the time nor the ability to hear their stories. He had walked into those dark streets, much like he did today, and slowly, methodically purged them of life. But even after wiping their blood clean from his blade, and bathing the grime from his body, the men and women he had killed lingered in his dreams.
They screamed and railed at him, demanding justice, cursing the prince and the crown of Nohr. They begged for the lives of their children, groaned as they starved on the streets, wailed as their bodies festered and rotted. Leo wonders if he will have any such dreams of this town. Its machinations and history are foreign to him, his mission simple: destroy this ring of criminals. Who could fault him for following orders? They were all gone, and the townsfolk would be better for it.
The prince's gaze falls to his wounds again, the bloodstained bandages and frayed fabric. For whom does the blood of the Dusk Dragon flow? Has he shed it in mercy, for the sake of those less fortunate? Has he shed it in glorious battle, letting it surge forth with the land to defend the kingdom of Nohr? Or are these merely cuts from the defenseless, desperate scratches left upon the body of their cruel executioner? Maybe Mother was right about one thing: Who will praise him for this?
Leo closes his eyes and nestles closer to Briar, leaving a bloody smear across her black coat. "What do you think, old girl? Am I wasting my breath on these missions? Maybe I should host some tea parties instead?" Tea parties... He chuckles. What he really wishes for is a friend — friend, not comrade, ally — to tell him he is more than a mere instrument of war.
from the moment the new trial of disciplinary measures had been announced, linhardt knew that they'd be a target. they had even, one dinner, lazily compiled a list of potential narcs that would submit him as a candidate for the punishment, and briefly considered if there was anything they could do to avoid or dissuade them.
then they had swiftly decided that wasn't worth the effort, so they gave it up and simply awaited their fate.
the explanation for the whole ordeal was rather tiring, too. it takes far too long for the cleric to explain the terms of the magic or how it will be used and how whatever and whoever and blah blah blah…
suffice it to say, linhardt dozes off.
…thrilled…
…best to behave…
…merry ways?
stormy blue eyes open, still clouded by the fog of sleep. linhardt's palm is still pressed into his jaw, but now that his head doesn't need propping up manually, he shifts to a more upright position.
Actions speak louder than words, and the indolent youth before him screams negligence and apathy. Leo's brows pinches as he sighs, as though struck by a sudden migraine. He recenters himself, offers a false smile — tepid, as his patience hangs by a thread — and folds his hands. He can't; their hands are ensnared by magic. Who's really the one being punished here? The committee has gone mad if they think this is the most effective punitive action.
"...Right. Let's start simple: your name, and your reasoning for drawing the Academy's ire? I am Prince Leo, of Nohr. And thanks to your negligence, it seems you're to become part of my daily routine."
"I am, Leo. Some people wanted to approach but feared they'd be cursed or some such." Darios, having already dealt with worse, hardly sees the fuss. One doesn't wander like that without reason. There is a soft sigh. "Don't fault them too much."
Listening as they walk, he hums at familiar courses of thought. Where he begins though is, as expected, the beginning. "If it soothes your mind, continue. I would say wear differing night gown colors but then the students may think they've angered the specter. There are some paths that lead away from people's usual ones if you'd like to know them."
That is an offering for the temporary fix, not the heart of the issue.
"Outside of studying, is there any particular hobby or interest you have? I myself tend to dedicate my efforts to decoration," he says as much confidently now for Leo's sake. He's glad the night air hides the tint of red upon his face at the admittance of such a thing. "It's more difficult to do here but smaller arrangements, much like the flowers at the ball, and going much too far for tea parties when the other party allows me."
"Different night gown colors"...? Leo's cheeks color at the very suggestion, glancing away. A simpler solution would just be to dress properly before leaving his room. It's an inconvenience, but this isn't Castle Krakenburg. He cannot enjoy the same privileges he did at home.
"Paths away from prying eyes, you say... Ah, but I'm fond of walking to the fishing pond. Bodies of water are soothing to me... I can't quite explain it. I'll certainly take your advice into consideration, however."
Leo narrows his eyes as he thinks. Darios's question, on the other hand, is more difficult to answer. Hobbies? He has a few, but his duties to the crown of Nohr have always taken precedence.
"Decoration, is it," he muses idly. "Fascinating. As for myself, nothing so artful: reading, horseback riding, studying the blade, swimming. Reading and mastering tomes takes up much of my time, however. The librarians here have become quite familiar with my face."
There's a faint curl of discontent to Leo's lips. His fingers tug at the hem of his sleeve, fingering the golden embroidery. "...I am used to my duties occupying the majority of my day. Every spare hour is structured into time further honing my mind and body, whether strenuous or not. Now that I have few external time constraints, I have... excessive time to devote to such things. It almost seems wasteful, and there is a limit to how much physical training one can benefit from in a day. Should I take leisurely rides around the countryside? I've already devoured the annals of half the kingdoms in Fódlan. Nor will they let me swim in the fishing pond... It all strikes me as needless excess, anyhow."
If Leo is honest with himself, he has a rather competitive streak. Perhaps it's because Xander was like a rapidly rising star, ever beyond his grasping hands, but the title of "second" has been something he's only begrudgingly ceded for most of his life. The most freeing thing coming from Nohr, in fact, was entering an academic space ripe with new rivals and successes to pursue.
Why, then, does he feel so discontent standing in the Black Eagles classroom, staring at the latest round of test scores? The problem is neatly printed just above his own name: Linhardt von Hevring.
I've never heard of such a person. If they're present in class, they never speak. I don't see them during office hours. How could they be besting me in academics if they aren't even engaging the class?!
"Prince Leo!" One of the monastery staff jogs up to him, breaking the blonde's fierce staring contest with the test scores. "I apologize for the interruption. You've heard of the newest disciplinary measures the Academy has enacted, yes? Please, follow me, and I'll explain along the way..."
And that's how Leo finds himself sitting across from a young man with forest-green hair, staring blankly at their magically bound hands.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Prince Leo. Since you've had such a stellar attendance record, we're hoping that you can lead by direct example. If you have any issues, please feel free to notify the disciplinary committee, but we're confident in all of our model candidates' skills."
"Of course. I understand," the prince replies with a polite smile. It fades once the staff member leaves the room, however, turning into a disdainful, irritated stare.
"Skipping classes, sleeping through lectures, ignoring summons from the disciplinary committee... Got anything else you'd like to add to the record? I'm no more thrilled about this than you are, so how about you do your best to behave and we can both be on our merry ways?"
When he hears word of a white-haired outlaw ruffling feathers among the monastery residents, Leo can hardly believe his ears. Niles? Here? He would never neglect to report to me... Yet as he chases down the source of the rumors, the handiwork is undeniably his own man's.
The blonde prince is greeted with a dilemma twofold: First, why is he the last to hear of this? Second, what mischief has Niles gotten himself into already?
It's rare that Leo needs to track down his own retainer and not vice versa. In fact, he's enjoyed the privilege for so long, he quickly realizes that he's rather out of practice. Niles' work is always clean, leaving naught but scandalous rumors in his wake: in other words, no leads worth following. Despite arriving only a day prior, it seems the man has wasted no time in muddying his reputation. Some things never change.
Ah, there he is. Leo breaks into a run; he knows the cloaked figure before him can fade into the shadows at a moment's notice. "Niles!"
"Niles... How long have you been in Fódlan? Whatever are you up to? And— Why didn't you write?" The barrage of questions comes breathlessly, but with as stern a frown as Leo can muster. (To an experienced eye, it might be interpreted as a pout). "I would've been the first to greet you, had you but sent word..."
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He might've said something that sounded a lot like 'forbidden' and 'archives' put together like that, yes. Matthew smiles and winks, all mirth.
"I won't tell anyone if you won't."
He turns on his heels then, distancing himself from the broken device on the wall. He passes Leo and hums as he surveys the bookshelves.
"… so what's your poison anyway? What did you come to the library looking to find in the first place?"
He plucks up an ordinary looking book from its perch. The Four Saints. What's this doing in this section? He places it back, takes a few more steps and… steps immediately back.
"Really? Another one already…?"
Pulling a small round object from his pocket, he flips it open. It's… a mirror. And with it peeking just around the corner, he studies the device carefully.
He glances back at Leo, and his expression, unguarded for once, gives him away fully: would it be too much to ask you to work your magic a second time??
His question isn't even deflected, it's outright ignored. Leo frowns, mouth opening to press the point, but the other man's actions warrant more attention than his irritatingly slippery demeanor. Why would a book regarding the Church saints be here? The crown of Nohr once censored its dissidents. How disappointing, if Seiros also employs such crude stifling of knowledge.
"'Looking for'? I'm simply a regular patron of the library." Apparently, Matthew isn't. Leo certainly hasn't seen him around before. But the prince's focus is on the small item the mysterious man has pulled from his pocket — the small mirror seems to allow him to peer round corners without revealing himself. It's the sort of reconnaissance tactic Niles might employ... in other words, a real headache.
Leo's brows draw when Matthew gives him such a guilelessly hopeful look. "We cannot make our way through the library by smashing its every surveillance device. Once might be passed off as an accident; more than that, and you're inviting deeper investigation."
He could probably use Brynhildr to tamper with the device. But why would he? "...Anyhow, you still haven't given me a particularly good reason to be of assistance."
The truth quickly reveals itself, as it is wont to do. Ophelia may recognize Lord Leo, but he does not recognize her.
Or perhaps that is an unfair assessment - he names her as Odin's daughter, and he explains he hadn't known, and if he had, he would surely have treated her kindly. But the ultimate fact is that he doesn't know where her father is either, and Ophelia's maiden heart sinks to hear it.
What Leo suggests instead is naught but nepotism, and Ophelia isn't sure how to respond. For what could a girl possibly want, if not her father?
She falters. Her expression falls into a rare dismay, eyes flickering to the floor before she can rightfully raise her head high. As her father taught her. She is a Chosen One, after all.
“I had hoped you may know which fell wind he followed,” she replies, “I hadn't expected you may also be unaware.”
And this ache in her chest. Had Father never mentioned her to his liege? Was she sealed away in a demesne so that he might pretend he did not love her? Or did he pretend that he did?
No, doubt is the foe of heroism. She resolves to push the thoughts at bay, even if they linger in the back of her mind.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” she says, offering another curtsy. (That's polite, isn't it? More curtsy = more polite. She's certain.) “But this maiden is in no need of favors, no matter how prolific the offerer. Uhm…”
She finds it difficult to maintain her gaze on Leo, but she keeps making an effort, no matter how many times she fails. There is clearly something she wants to ask him, but she cannot yet bring herself to voice it.
"...I apologize, Miss Ophelia. I am equally disappointed that I have not been able to locate him." A sigh drags itself from Leo's lips; he had buried the matter shortly after the war, on account of the myriad duties and obligations that nagged him. But even as he worked to restore their crumbling kingdom, Leo never forgot Odin, nor did his silent wish for his retainer's return fade. Speaking to his daughter now revives that old ache, more acutely than Leo ever allowed before.
"But I can tell there's something on your mind. Please, tell me — I would not have you leave without speaking your whole heart." Odin used to go about groaning and wincing until Leo would demand to hear his troubles. He'd be lying if he didn't miss those days, hearing about the man's "aching blood" and "fell destiny" over a request to follow Leo on his next mission. Perhaps Ophelia is similar?
Molting…? She supposed it was a fair assumption to make and she couldn’t say it was inaccurate. More than that, it seemed her feathers had caused quite a bit more trouble than she had wanted. Something the other wasn’t quite so receptive to, understandably so.
“Ah—well, I suppose you could say I am.” She glanced behind her. Maybe it would be better if she were outside but… The stern gaze of the staff who’d tasked this with her was enough to turn back to the other. “I would, I promise, but the staff here are quite… strict about this. Or at least the one who wished for my presence here.”
Hmm, perhaps she could at least mitigate it some more, though. Rose glanced up at the other as she returned to sweeping away the remnants of a lively ball. Her wings were tucked in place while she remained firmly on the ground.
“This should at least lessen my impact. I hope that would suffice?”
Leo followed Rose's gaze to a monastery worker who seemed to be glaring daggers at the young lady. What was this, blackmail? Abuse of power? The prince's brow furrowed as he gripped his own broom tighter. She didn't say no to him, and she evidently hadn't said no to the other person. The result was a self-feeding problem with conflicting solutions.
A deeper sigh and scowl, which he forgot to fix as Rose glanced back at him in search of approval. "...No. No, it's..."
Leo strode over, shuffling his broom in pretense of helping as he leaned over to Rose in confidence. "That woman over there, is she forcing you specifically to clean up? Have you offended her? Whatever did you do?"
He was frustrated; that much was plain. But Leo was mindful enough to realize that the stray feathers were only a symptom of a larger problem: Why was this feathered lady being forced into sweeping duty of all things when it obviously wasn't practical?
Though many of Xander's smiles tend to be somewhat short-lived, the report, if one shall call it that, that Leo gives him on his progress prolongs the lifespan of the one that continues to adorn his normally stern features.
"So I've heard. Perhaps it's a difference in norms and cultures - and perhaps the change in our standing also plays a part. I hear that many current and upcoming kings and princes attend this school. This makes us merely some among many, no longer placed on a pedestal and no longer given special treatment. Which I believe to be a good thing," he adds with a nod. "No matter how much you insist otherwise, many Nohrian instructors will still fear giving you criticism and negative feedback, worried about consequences to them. And being surrounded purely by ever-obedient yes-men stunts your growth."
One of the many scars left behind by the tyrant that spent years parading around in the skin of their father, and his gang of lackeys; scars that will take a long time to heal, he suspects. Scars that are now his responsibility to watch over.
"Corrin has already greeted me, yes - with quite the enthusiasm," he says with a little, fond chuckle at the still fresh memory. "I haven't seen Elise yet, or Camilla for that matter. If they have classes or training, then I do not wish to interrupt them - we will have plenty of time to spend together here." A declaration - a promise.
He thinks about bringing up some other familiar faces he's seen around, but stops himself in his thoughts. His encounter with Lady Hinoka... is best brought up with care and at the right time.
"I've heard there are some others from both Hoshido and Nohr as well," is what he opts for instead. Generic, but good enough for now. "I do wonder how those who know me will feel about seeing me in the position of a teacher," he adds with a hint of amusement in his voice.
Professor Xander. It still sounds a little ridiculous to him.
"A good thing," Xander says, but his words make Leo pause. Walking unrecognized, bearing the unvarnished opinions of those around him — is it... good? He has never considered it as such before. How could they not know the glorious kingdom of Nohr? How could they not discern his royal blood by his bearing and manner of speech? How could they forego decorum and etiquette and treat him as any other?
And Xander... approves?
But as ever, his elder brother's words are grounded in solid reason. Leo manages a chuckle. "...I am ever learning from you, Brother. Just when I think I've begun to stand on my own feet..."
Beneath it all is a tinge of inadequacy; bitterness, even. But it is indiscernible beneath Leo's adoring smile.
"I admit I have not seen many Hoshidans around myself. Perhaps they are hesitant to approach a prince of Nohr after the war," Leo comments with a tilt of his head. "Doubtless they should treat you well, however. Your treatment of their kingdom has been more than generous... and now I suppose you'll do even more as their instructor. Shall I call you 'Professor Xander' now, Big Brother?"
A teasing note lilts into the blonde's voice, a rare grin playing on his lips. However, his moments of cheek have become ever more fleeting, quickly replaced by a soft frown. "...But I shouldn't waste your time. Have you seen the monastery grounds in full? Or perhaps you'd like to visit the dining hall for a meal? Maybe our sisters will ambush us along the way."
It is plain to see how uncomfortable Leo is. She's not quite sure if he simply did not expect the outfit and ears or if it is something else entirely that embarrasses him so. To his credit, he's going along with everything regardless, and so Eirika sees no reason to stop.
"I didn't think we'd have two members of royalty here today." The girl, now red in the face, looks as if she's starting to panic but Eirika shakes her head.
"It is our choice to be here and to give back to this community. Please, only think of us as your co-workers today."
Leo returns looking very respectable in his butler's outfit. He would have quite the stern image too were it not for the cat ears atop his head. No amount of composure can hide the flush across his features.
"Oh, Your Highness, you look so a—" the young lady stutters, pivoting from her chosen word of 'adorable', "so handsome!"
Beside her, Eirika is smiling in absolute delight. "You wear the outfit very well, Prince Leo. Since we're both serving, I'll show you what we'll be doing."
The girl departs and Eirika takes Leo aside to show him which section of tables he'll be waiting on and a rundown of his duties. Introduce himself, take their drink order, and possibly their food order, and if they're not ready then give them a bit of time. The refills, the specials, how to put in a food order, she makes sure to explain it all thoroughly to him.
"That should be everything." Eirika clasps her hands and turns to Leo. "Do you have any questions? I will be near should you require any assistance as well."
In spite of the praise, all Leo manages in return is an uncharacteristically mild "...If you say so." He seems a bit dispirited, though he makes no comment on the issue.
Eirika debriefs him on his duties, and Leo's brow furrows. To an outsider it might seem like he's doing his best to file away all the information, but memorization is not a difficult task for the prince. Rather, he's astonished at how much he's being asked to do. The butler uniform he had assumed was just for show, but this is practically the job itself. It's... humbling.
"...No... I think I've got the gist of things, at least for now. Thank you." It's just for a day, Leo reassures himself.
Just for a day, as customers stream in and out of the cat café in an endless parade. He had heard the place was wildly popular, but experiencing it from the staff side is a true trial. The blonde prince finds himself furtively glancing out the window to see if sunset is approaching, but it doesn't stop the barely-stifled squeals and giggles whenever he introduces himself to a new table with an elegant bow. Leo can't quite suppress the redness in his cheeks yet, and it garners many a whisper and grin as he ferries food and drink to and fro, inadvertently deepening his blush.
Horrifyingly enough, he has the skills necessary for the job: a handsome fake smile (though lately it's faded back to a soft frown), proper etiquette and posturing, a sharp memory, and even sharper eyes to evaluate his customers' comfort. Leo has heard of noblesse oblige a thousand times over, but he's hard pressed to believe it extends to this degree.
In spite of his pride, Leo is also patient, so he puts his head down and toils without complaint. However, his patience wears ever thinner as he tackles the more menial, unglamorous aspects of the job: for example, cleaning up messes left by the customers. He finds himself on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor of a sticky morass left by one careless patron while trying to shoo away any curious cats. "I can't believe I've stooped this low," the blonde mutters under his breath. "Gods, I hope nobody recognizes me..."
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“Do you believe that others should know? That others want to, if they do not have to?” Tempering her questions with a faint smile, she adds, “At ease, Prince Leo. I do not mean to offend. I merely wish to understand.”
It is the truth. Sanaki has been trying; she would be a poor orator indeed if she did not lend her most discerning ear. He says should one fall with such passivity, like it’s not his hands that are stained with the blood of his siblings. He extols the worth of the strongest of scions, yet any humanist should know that it’s the weak who most deserve to hold power. He says ushered my father onto the throne, as if it’s not that same man who decreed the campaign in the first place—
She asked, how could you love Nohr? And he answered, through gritted teeth, because I love my father. Like an infant suckling at a pacifier, he has been fed a lie, and not even a particularly sweet one.
How unsurprising.
Sanaki shrugs. “Nohrian philosophies, especially those of the past, are not my business,” she relents easily enough. Who was she to judge? Perhaps the conquest really had been righteous. Perhaps such internal strife in the court truly was necessary — nothing indicates otherwise except for the discomfort clear on the prince's face. “It’s no one’s business, except individuals who held them and individuals who were harmed by them. What you really ought to do is make amends with the aggrieved, enshrine better principles in written law, and simply move on with your life.”
The way he tells it, his brother the King has already begun to do an admirable job of the first two. In regards to the last, well…
“But you cannot." She does not ask it as a question. "You cannot so easily free yourself of shame.” How can he, if he is ignorant of it? “Do I understand correctly?”
Should they know? Of course. The second question begs more consideration as soon as he applies a little more thought, but — they should know. Even if the others do not care, Leo does, and that is reason enough for him. It is presumptuous to think that way, of course, but Leo has always treasured history. It is a wellspring of knowledge, a warning to future generations, and a badge of honor upon the heroes of eld. It grates his pride endlessly that he and his siblings must work twofold to even earn the glances of those who walk in ignorance.
"Simply move on with your life." How can he? The foundation of Nohr's throne is steeped in blood, and he is chained to it. He will defend its honor until his dying breath, because that is what it means to be a prince of Nohr — and yet Leo knows that its history is steeped in blackest mud.
A crack appears in the foundation. "...You are keen, Empress. I am not blind to Nohr's... darkest shadows. We have worked hard to stave them off, and erect bastions against future corruptions, but..."
Leo's throat tightens as he continues. To utter even a single negative word about Nohr's royalty feels tantamount to treason. How many biting remarks did he suffer in the past? How many scathing critiques, underhanded mutters, thinly veiled threats? He has defended against such things his entire life. Admitting to any flaws — even if he understands them intimately — opens a vulnerable chink in his armor. What if the sharp young Empress of Begnion chooses to pierce him through?
He bites his lip, reconfigures his words. "...suffice it to say, a great deal of damage was done during the Hoshidan war. I may not hold the crown, but I support it in full, and our work has been cut out for us."
Leo sighs and tilts his head. This conversation has been trying, to say the least. Perhaps it's time for a new angle. "...At any rate, you seem to have a clear understanding of the matter. I take it you speak from personal experience, Empress? I'm curious how you've handled your own country's problems."
His eyes widened then sparkled like stars at the mention of a fancy grand ball and pictures of everyone going. “Whaaaat? And I missed it! Did you go? I wanna see some pictures of you!” He’ll have to find some other people to ask to see if he could get a full picture of the party that he had missed.
Leo may have had to wrestle the items from Kanna’s hands, though when he realized his uncle was actually trying to grab it, he finally relented and handed it over. But watched very closely as items were moved around to accommodate for his extra things. He’s amazed at how he managed to create room when there was literally no room at all!! How old does he gotta be to be able to learn that?
“Wow.” That’s really all he can say when everything is finally packed. Soon laughing as he looks back at Briar. “Thank you, Briar!” He can’t let her feel like she's unappreciated! This is a trip of three afterall!
“I won’t lose in any race!” He declares, grinning at Briar as he pulls his dragonstone out from under his top! He always has it worn around his neck. And with a quick change! He’s now trotting alongside the mare before taking off alongside them! He definitely could keep pace, but it was more of a matter of when or if he gets tired. But the actual issue that seemed to cause him to lag behind was the way he’d veer off course to look at something before having to use his wings to fly back to catch up to Leo and Briar when either he noticed he was going too far or he heard a call for him to come back.
Flying drained a bit more energy than running. And he just enjoyed running alongside people rather than flying above them. Though he often flew around when he was traveling with Kana. But this was just as fun!
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
When they finally arrived at their destination, Kanna came to a slow as well. Changing out of his dragon form right as Leo gets off of his horse. He does a once over of the area. Staring up at the bare trees and peering into his reflection in the swampy water. Smiling at himself before running around! “Look at all of this stuff!” He did a few circles around his uncle and his horse. Getting a detailed 360 of the place, before returning to Leo’s side when called over.
“It’s different…?” The promise of a story was enough to give the blonde his full undivided attention. “They stole right from nature…!? It must have been really mad. That has to be why the place flooded, right?” Nature was getting revenge on those who treated it unfairly. “That’s why you have to make sure you respect nature and take care of it.” That was his take away of the story. But in the end, it made a very unique place that they’re able to visit now!
“Then can I look around first? I’ll make sure to come back and help you with camp before sunset!” He wanted to make sure there was nothing he’d be missing by looking around when the sun was up. But he couldn't leave Leo to do all of the boring work. He was almost an adult. He had to be more responsible…after having some fun!
He was gone for an hour or two at most. Running through the area. Searching under rocks, in the water, squeezing his way into holes and hollowed trees. Occasionally flying overhead to really make sure he doesn’t miss anything of value. Though most of what he found was pretty rocks or little critters he’s never seen before. And when he was satisfied he came back. Making sure to clean up a little bit so he could help set up camp without getting everything dirty!
With camp set, he took some time to settle down a bit. Maybe take a brief power nap after traveling all day, but he made sure he woke up right at dusk. Sitting up and patting down his hair as eyes wandered around the encampment searching for his uncle. He knew he wouldn’t leave him. But he had to make sure!! “Are you almost ready to go, Uncle?” He’d asked before a small yawn slipped from his lips. But he soon shook his head and hopped out of his sleeping bag! While a bit sleepy, he knew he’d wake right back up once he got to walking!
Leo couldn't help but smile faintly at Kanna's enthusiasm. Certainly, everything seemed more exciting when viewed through those starry eyes. "Of course. You don't have to wait for me — just be careful. I don't want a scolding from your mother if anything happens."
He busied himself with tending to Briar first, unbuckling her saddle and rubbing her down with many a word of praise. Next was pitching a tent for them, unfurling their bedding and unpacking provisions. In the distance, he caught glimpses of the young dragon cavorting about in the brackish water, exploring every inch of the small field. Leo shook his head, hiding a smile. At this rate, he won't have anything left to explore come evening.
Hours later, the sun began to set, the barren trees before them casting long, wretched shadows across the land. Camp hadn't taken long to set up; once it was finished, Kanna retired for a nap while Leo pulled out a book. However, by the time the young prince awoke, his uncle was tending the fire: and over it bubbled a simple stew comprised of a few strips of salt-packed meat and crudely cut potato.
"I see you've got a sixth sense for dinner," Leo quipped, taking in Kanna's sleep-tousled figure. He handed the boy a piece of crusty bread. "I'm afraid our days of monastery meals are behind us. Dip that in your stew, or you might well crack a tooth."
In spite of his dry humor, meals such as these were nostalgic in a way. Leo was no talented chef, but he knew how to string out provisions after many missions on the harsh outskirts of Nohr. A pot and a bit of clean water went a long ways towards turning hardtack and salted meat into something more palatable.
Leo made short work of his portion, sighing a little as he set aside his bowl. It was hardly luxurious fare, but hot food was hot food. "Ready when you are, Kanna. Take your time; I'll be with Briar."
He paused on the edge of camp to stroke Briar's head, gazing out at the deepening shadows over the swamp. "...Nohr is darker than this, isn't it, girl?" The prince spoke in a whisper, warily glancing back at camp for signs of his young companion. Conversations with his beloved steed were strictly confidential. "I'd invite you for a ride, just like old times, but I think you'd turn your nose up at this swamp. If we come across anything more interesting, I'll bring you along. Promise."
His eyes wandered out to the land below. While Nohr's shadows teemed and shimmered with fog, seeming to take on a life of their own, this drowned forest was dead in every respect. The sunset was beautiful, but lacked the brilliant violet hues of home; the deepening shadows only drew up so far, like diluted ink. More importantly, Leo felt no comforting embrace, only the stiff chill of winter wind.
A sigh, involuntary, passed Leo's lips. He turned to look for Kanna. "...It's a bit different than home, isn't it?"
