translation;

the act or process of changing something from one form to another

i.

They meet and admittedly his first impression of her is that she is similar to a blank page; much like the new yet strangely familiar world that he's been thrown back into. It's a bit of a blur from there. He starts translating old scripts for Arthur, the real prince, and starts attempting to translate the foreign concept of the fake princess with wide eyes and a dangerously brave heart just hanging on the outside of her sleeve into something comprehensible.

ii.

She is a blank page, he finally comes to understand.

Her memories have been ripped from her and she has no recollection of anything before, apparently, landing straight into Ventuswill's literal palm. From there, it's just been battle after battle and Leon has no qualms admitting that while this young woman is far from the ideal princess, she certainly has the bravery and will of one. It's commendable, really.

However, that isn't going to stop him from aiming to achieve that prettily pink blush that appears whenever he says something ever so slightly suggestive, of course.

iii.

When they start...seeing each other (Frey calls it dating; Leon calls it courting, and they've miraculously learned to agree to disagree.) it becomes a routine of sorts for them to meet up in the late night by the lake and simply talk.

Yes, it gets in the way of her princessly duties, much to the dismay of her ever zany crew of butlers, but it's something they both need.

Perhaps, for her, it's a case of reassurance that she isn't alone anymore, having to hide all of Venti's secrets from the villagers and carrying the burden all by herself. For Leon, however, it's more of a wake up call. A sort of confirmation that this isn't all a dream and he isn't going to wake up back in Leon Karnak one day, still a guardian. Still alone. Still uncertain of Ventuswill's well being.

"Hey," Frey mutters softly, eying him curiously, and in the moonlight her eyes look almost translucent. "What are you thinking about?"

He must have been making a face again. It probably should have never gotten this far, he thinks, to the point where she can read him like an open book just by his expressions. "Things," he replies ambiguously and it's her turn to make a face.

"Seriously?" she groans, falling onto her back to, presumably, get a better look at the stars gathering in the night sky. "You never tell me anything."

"You're pouting."

"Am not."

"Yes you are, I can see you."

She rolls over to turn her back to him and he simply can't resist, regardless of how melancholy his previous thoughts had been just minutes ago. "Alright, this view is much better."

Frey snorts. "You're ridiculous."

"As are you."

"Yeah, I guess," she remarks, remaining completely turned away. There's a few moments of content silence until, "Um, Leon?"

He stares at the back of her head, eyes trailing the length of her long strands of hair. "Mmm?"

Finally, she faces him again and props herself onto her elbow, looking worryingly serious. "Do you..." Frey falls back, palms covering her quickly reddening face. "Never mind."

"What?"

"I said never mind. That means you have to forget about it, okay?"

Leon's lips shape themselves into a firm, thin line. "Tell me. Or else."

"Or else what?"

"I will use force."

"F-Force? What are you talking about!?"

"I will tickle you, Frey. I will tickle you until you spill the proverbial beans."

"Yeah ri - LEON!"

Leon smirks as Frey fidgets beneath his grasp, giggling and looking downright furious all at once. Quite the sight, really. "Are you ready to sing, little bird?"

"Fine, fine! Just s-stop!"

He backs up, respectively, and allows her time to collect herself. Her cheeks are flushed from her laughter and while her lips are pulled down into an ugly little scowl, somehow he still thinks she's rather lovely. "Mmm? So, what was it you wanted to say before?"

"Um." Frey's face colors all over again. Interesting. "This, um. This isn't me trying to hint at anything, or something like that, okay?" She stares at him expectantly until he nods in eager understanding. "It's just, I kind of wondered if you ever thought about us down the line. Way down the line."

Leon simply stares.

"See," Frey ducks her head in embarrassment. "Now this is weird, really weird. Sorry, that was stupid."

The Dragon Priest shakes his head, attempting to clear his current thought process. "Well...I can't say that I have - "

"Oh. That's, um, that's okay!"

"Oh! So, now the little bird won't stop singing long enough to let me properly reply. Cute," Leon grins as Frey narrows her eyes. "As I was saying... I can't say that I have, but that's mostly due to the fact that I'm still trying to comprehend that this is my reality and not some sort of vivid dream."

"Oh," she remarks softly.

"Oh," echoes Leon mockingly.

Frey smiles slightly, sitting up completely now, all signs of any contempt gone. As she claps her hands together, she chirps, "So if I proposed right now - "

"What!?" His reply sounds less like actual words and more like the indecipherable language of a frazzled Woolie.

"Gotcha," and she laughs and he laughs (albeit nervously) and another night is lost but not wasted.

( a/n ) i love leon with my whole soul but he's pretty tough for me to write because his humor is tricky and i don't write flirty characters that well but i hope i did him some sort of justice for you maybe perhaps