(A/N): Hey guys! Guess who's sick again? That's right- me. Ugh. I got two chapters written yesterday, so at least I've got those done, but I feel like absolute garbage (physically), so the next few are going to be a struggle. Gratuitous fencing scene, because this is me we're talking about. This is part 4 of the 'Little Leo' arc, and the final part for now- the next chapter will go back to Lisbet and Jerremyah, at the Ellwood Estate in 1975.
Trigger Warnings: Child Abuse- emotional, physical, mental/psychological. Child abandonment (but that's kind of acknowledged, at this point). Talk of infidelity. Talk of murder- Filicide, specifically (Maternal Filicide, even MORE specifically). Graphic description of torturous pain inflicted only on the mind? It's the Cruciatus curse, I'll just go ahead and say it. Mention of needles, and being set on fire, and a few different things like that. If you don't like reading those bits, just skip to the next piece of dialogue. The word suicidal is used, but it's more meant to mean that choosing a particular course of action would lead to a person getting killed, rather than any actual suicidal tendencies- although one could argue that Leonides sort of exhibited some of those, too.
October 18th, 1967
With a crack, they arrived in the grand foyer, and immediately- before he had even managed to get his bearings- his mother snatched her hand away from his shoulder, like he had somehow unintentionally burned her.
"Go to your room." She ordered, quietly. "I will meet you there, momentarily." He turned his head toward the direction she wanted him to go, and blanched.
"But Mother- the staircase-" She cut him off, pinning him with a sharp glare.
"You will be in your bedroom when I reach it, or you will suffer. No detours- and if I learn that you interacted with anyone on the way, even your sister- especially your sister- I will be most displeased." He swallowed thickly, and gave a quick nod. He would just have to figure it out- and as she swept away in the direction of the section of the manor where the servants tended to gather to do their tasks that weren't location dependent, he focused his sights on what seemed like an insurmountable obstacle- the staircase. Maybe she was going to ask- well, get someone else to ask, most likely- one of the gardeners to fetch Mia's hat... or maybe not.
He strode to the foot of the staircase on his crutches, and then stopped- because what else was he going to do? He considered climbing it using his crutches... and then the image of his own body tumbling down said staircase took over his mind, and he decided that that would have to be his last resort. He stood there for a tense minute, thinking over his possible courses of action, before he got an idea. Maybe it was a dumb idea- or at the very least, inelegant, but... he thought it was unlikely to fail. He glanced over his shoulder, both to make sure that his mother hadn't returned, and that there was no one else around to witness him lowering himself like this- and lower himself, he did.
He turned so that he was facing away from the staircase, and as slowly as possible, lowered himself onto his rear, on the highest step he could manage- the third from the bottom, as it turned out. He dropped the last little bit, and landed a bit heavily- briefly making the ache in his hips and back worse, before he pushed past that pain. He swapped his crutches into his left hand, then leaned them against the stairs next to him, and started to use a combination of his uninjured left leg, and both hands, to lift himself up onto the next, higher, stair tread.
When he got to the point where he had almost left his crutches behind, he paused to drag them up to his side once more- and in this manner of scooting ever upward on his rear end, and dragging his crutches behind him, he eventually reached the top of the staircase.
"Ten less stairs." He panted. "Stupid, proud ancestors, and their stupid grand staircases- could have gotten this done in ten less stairs, but noooo- it has to be as 'fancy' as possible." He rolled his eyes, then took a second to sweep his hair back, out of his eyes- and wipe away as much sweat from his forehead as he could.
He couldn't wait to catch his breath, though, knowing that his mother could return at any moment- and after pivoting himself around on his rear end, he leaned the crutches against the balustrade, then used said balustrade to help him climb to his feet. Or, well... foot. This time, he did pause for a second- not to catch his breath, but to stop his head from spinning quite so fast.
After a minute or so, when he felt at least a little less dizzy, he grabbed the crutches again and situated them properly under his arms, before using them to take a few good strides away from the top of the stairs- lest he lose his balance, and fulfill his earlier vision of falling down them. Then, he started to make his way along the first floor landing- and then off of that, into the hallway that led to, among other things, his bedroom.
It was only when he heard a distinctive, rather familiar sound, that he realised he was in trouble. He froze in the middle of the hallway, maybe ten feet away from the open door that would have admitted him into the salle d'armes, the room his father had set aside for training- if he had been foolish enough to want to enter it, right now.
"Again." He heard his father- stepfather, he supposed- snap, and the metallic clattering that had briefly gone silent started up again. He could guess by the sounds, what moves Sebastien might be executing.
Lunge. Lunge. Parry. Riposte. Lunge. Parry. Parry. Riposte- beat, beat, beat, beat. There was a break here, where they must have been recovering- and most likely sizing each other up. Then an appel, followed by what he assumed was a feinted lunge, and then- "Touché." It was his fencing trainer, so the feint must have been successful.
"Again." It wasn't quite the, 'En garde! Prêts? Allez!' that Leonides was used to, but his father- Sebastien- was clearly in one of his 'moods'- and even if his mother hadn't threatened him to stay away from other people, he would have tried his best to stay out of his way.
He could hear them start up again- heard his father- Sebastien- go on the attack again, like he almost always did when it came to fencing. Then, he heard a thump, and the sound of two grown men grunting quietly, at a clear impact- corps-à-corps. This was his chance! He hobbled forward on his crutches, trying to be as quiet as possible, even in his haste- and just as he thought he had gotten away without being noticed-
"Boy!" He flinched, and unfortunately, reflexively froze. "Rest, Florimond." It was a dismissal, and the other man stepped away- breaking their body lock- and moved to the far side of the room, where the refreshment tray was kept. His father, however- Sebastien- moved toward him instead, briefly pausing at the edge of the piste to drop his fencing mask to the ground, before continuing to stalk to, and through, the open door.
He'd dropped his mask, but not his sword- an épée. Leonides typically trained with the foil, but he had tried- and was occasionally forced to try again- all three types of fencing. He still preferred the foil, though- much to Sebastien's eternal disappointment. There was much lamenting of the fact that he didn't even have the decency to like his father's- Sebastien's- second favorite, sabre, even if he couldn't prefer the épée, like he apparently should have.
"I hear you've been naughty." Leonides swallowed thickly, hearing the footsteps draw closer, even if he refused to watch him approach. "Is that right, boy?" He clamped his mouth shut, so he wasn't tempted to talk- after all, he was much more frightened of his mother, than- Sebastien.
"Look at me." Would that count as 'interacting' with someone? It didn't matter, because in the end, he didn't have a choice. He was silent for a mere few seconds after this demand, but clearly, that was too long for Sebastien. "Are you daft, boy, or are you just feeling foolishly insubordinate?" When he continued to keep his mouth shut, and his eyes on the floor, Sebastien finally lost what little patience he had had.
The cold, steel tip of the épée touched the underside of his jaw, and with the slightest bit of pressure, Sebastien used the blade to tilt Leonides's head up, until he had no choice but to look at him. Sure, he could have just avoided his eyes, even if he couldn't stare at the floor, but at this point, he didn't want to risk irritating his- Sebastien- any further. The épée blade may have been blunt, but it would still do damage with enough force- especially because he wasn't wearing any protective clothing... and it was pressed quite close to his throat.
"Why are you not answering me, boy? Kneazle got your tongue?" He tipped his head to the side, then tapped the tip of the épée against the underside of Leonides's chin again. "Or did falling out of that tree knock something loose, in that already pathetically empty little head of yours?" He gritted his teeth, and Sebastien huffed out a dark little laugh. "Getting a little frustrated, are we? You can't possibly imagine how I feel-"
"Sebastien- away." He would never have thought, upon her taking her leave of him downstairs, that he would be relieved to have his mother catch up to him, but clearly, he was wrong. Sebastien scowled, but thankfully, after the barest of seconds, heeded his wife's order, and flicked the blade away- down to his side. After giving Leonides one last disdainful look, he stalked back into the salle d'armes- and slammed the door, behind him.
"I'm sorry." Leonides blurted. "He wouldn't leave-" She cut him off, jabbing a hand in the direction of his bedroom.
"Go." He went- if only because he didn't want to risk another blade at his throat. Eventually, he made it to his room- only to be halted, once more, by a family member. A door further down the hall swung open, and Mia came tumbling out- Amelia just behind her, not quite fast enough to prevent her from making this mistake.
"Leo!" He felt himself start to smile, involuntarily- and then, he felt his mother's nails digging into his shoulder, and that smile dropped as quickly as it had formed.
"Miasenna!" She snapped, and Mia blanched- but even though she moved a little slower, she didn't stop trying to get to him. "Don't you dare-" It wasn't working- it wouldn't work. She was too determined to get to him, so he knew he had to step in, and do something.
"Mia- go back to your lessons." She blinked at him, rather owlishly, and he felt awful for sending her away- but he hoped that maybe it would help lessen whatever punishment she might receive, later.
"...but-" He cut her off, giving her his most sincere look, even as their mother sunk her claws into his flesh so hard, that he didn't doubt there would be five little bruises there, later.
"Go. We'll speak later, okay? I promise." She stared at him for a second, then, incredibly reluctantly, she nodded- and allowed Amelia to steer her back into the room. He caught one last glimpse of her face as she looked back at him over her shoulder, before Amelia closed the door- or rather, she started to close the door, before his mother stopped her.
"Oh, Ms Rochester?" The syrupy sweetness of her voice made even Amelia freeze, and she pulled the door open just enough for them to be able to see each other. "I've asked the servants to return to their quarters-" This one sentence sent a shiver down his spine, and clearly Amelia saw this for the threat it was, because she visibly paled. "I suggest that you cast a muffling charm on Miasenna's room, as you continue her lessons. It might... help her focus." Amelia's gaze met his, and she looked terrified, horrified, and almost like she might throw up.
He couldn't say anything- she wasn't family, and even if he wanted to risk speaking to her, he didn't think he would be able to get the words out, right now- so he held that eye contact, and nodded firmly. Whatever his mother had to throw at him, he could handle it- he didn't have a choice. After a few, long seconds, she returned his nod, and reluctantly- much like Mia had been- she quietly shut the door, leaving him alone with his mother, yet again.
"Onward." He did as she told him, and finally, he made it to his bedroom- but he was about as far from relaxed as a person could be, as she sealed them in. And then- and then, she drew her wand. He braced himself, but all she did was cast what he assumed was a silencing spell- it felt the same as the spell that Prudence had cast, before she had told him- well. It made him all the more nervous, to have her soundproof the room, when she had never really bothered in the past- but maybe she just wanted to talk in private, without anyone overhearing. Maybe-
"The pamphlets, Leonides." Hesitantly, he fished them out of his pocket, and let her take them from him. She held them in the same hand that clutched the reading list. "Thank you." Then... smoke. Closely followed by flames.
"Wait-" His words died in his throat, as the literature Prudence had intended him to read turned to ash in her grip.
"There." She said sternly. "That's all dealt with, now. We wouldn't want any proof of this whole debacle just... standing around, now would we?" 'Standing around'? Surely she meant 'sitting around', or maybe even 'laying around', right? "The Healers won't say anything- their oaths forbid them from betraying such sensitive information- and even if that foolhardy boy likes the idea of breaking the rules, he seems to value the well-being of his patients above all else... no, we won't have to worry about him." It was a relief to hear that she thought so, because it meant she most likely wouldn't go after them for their insubordination- lest them being fired changed their opinions on the matter.
"That's good." He said quietly, because she seemed like she wanted a response, and her lips quirked downward.
"Quite. May I see the salve they gave you?" This... had him worried. His mother didn't usually ask- she ordered. This was incredibly out of character for her- not to mention that she had just burnt the only information he was likely to get about his... condition, to ash. Did the salve count as 'proof'? It didn't matter. In the end, she saw his hesitation, and held out a hand- and arched an eyebrow at him. "The salve, Leonides." He gave it to her- and stepped back. "Thank you." She turned it around in the palm of her hand, leaning in close as if to inspect it- then, she flung it again the wall. It shattered, splattering salve across the floor and wallpaper.
He jumped, and flinched- he couldn't help it. He gasped quietly, and she tilted her head at him- it was then that he realised that she had never taken her eyes off of him. Which... wasn't exactly comforting.
"You won't be needing it." He swallowed thickly and nodded, as she came a few steps closer, toward him. "Leonides Judas Joannis." He jolted at the use of his full name. "My son... no longer fit to bear either name." He dropped his head, and this time, she didn't scold him for it- because she wanted him to be ashamed. "You do not understand the pain this causes me- the impact this will have on our family." He didn't argue, because he suspected that he really didn't. "I was counting on you... we all were." He blinked back tears.
"I'm sorry." He told her. "I didn't mean to- I didn't want this to happen-" She cut him off, both of her hands coming up to cup his cheeks, ever so gently. She raised his face to her, and he was reminded of younger times- better times.
"Of course not. You were always so... even when you disobeyed me, I knew that you were just... testing the boundaries you were given. You only ever truly stepped more than a toe out of line, when your sister was involved." He hesitated.
"Mère, is she-" She waited patiently, for him to get it out. "Could Miasenna be... like me?" She froze, and the pained look in her eyes intensified.
"...I doubt it." But he could see it in her eyes- knew that she knew that, before today, she would have doubted it about him, too. "Before you were born, your f-" She stopped, and corrected herself. "Sebastien, and I... we were... loyal, to each other. We were with no one else- or, so he says." She huffed out a bitter little laugh. "I thought that was the case, anyway, but... apparently not." Because if she had been, he wouldn't exist- or at least, not in this manner. "Between your births, I stayed much the same way, even though he had a few... casual encounters, along the way. I won't blame him for that- in fact, after I fell pregnant with Miasenna, I encouraged it." Why was she telling him all of this?
"But... if you thought that you were..." He hesitated, before resolving to use her word for it. "Loyal, before my birth, and I turned out like this..."
"What is stopping the same from being true for Miasenna?" He nodded weakly, and she did something rather out of character- she shrugged. "I don't suppose there is anything stopping that from being the case- and we will certainly be getting her assessed in much the same way that you were, as soon as possible." Without the broken bones, he hoped. "But you have always been... I suppose, looking back, there were signs." Like what?
"Like what?" She pursed her lips.
"You have always been rather advanced for your age- or so your tutors seem incapable of refraining from telling me. I would have liked to believe that that was simply a result of you being the heir of both the Meliflua and Joannis lines, but apparently, that is no longer an option." No, he supposed it wasn't. "You have also always been... uncannily perceptive." His eyebrows furrowed. "And you have made it clear a few times, that you have heard things that you almost certainly should not have been able to." His eyes widened. "Not to mention the fact that you do not exactly... you are not Sebastien's twin, I will just say that." Ah. Right. No. "Miasenna resembles her father quite strongly- and not just because they have the same coloring." She considered him for a moment. "I always just thought you looked like me. Now I know that you might... look like him." Him. His father- the vampire.
"I... I can't help that. I can't help the way I was born, or what that means for us... I'm sorry." She inhaled, slowly.
"I know you are. I am, too." She stroked his cheek with her thumb. "I am sorry, but I cannot allow this to go on." His eyebrows furrowed again.
"What... what do you mean?" She sighed quietly.
"We cannot withstand this. We will not. When your grandfather finds out..." She shuddered, and he couldn't say that he disagreed. "It will not end well- for any of us. It is only because of my love for you- for my son, my first child... my baby- that I offer you this. The only mercy I can afford to give you... your life." He froze.
"What-?" She shook her head, cutting him off without needing a word- but then, she spoke anyway.
"Leave." His heart felt like it was being clenched in a fist. Hers, maybe. "Leave, and never come back." Now, it was his turn to shake his head, rather desperately.
"Mo-" She cut him off again, and he was shocked to see the near agony in her eyes.
"I cannot allow half-breed filth to have a place in my home. In my family. You may be my son, but you are also his- and no matter your intentions... you have inherited his monstrous nature. You may not want to drink blood now, but one day- some day much sooner than I am sure either of us would like- it will be inevitable. And above all else... you will have- abilities, that no man is meant to possess. You could use them-" He interrupted her.
"I won't-" She cut him off in turn.
"But you could- and that is what scares me, more than anything else in this world. That you could change- that you could change into him." He blinked at her- she was scared? "No. I cannot allow it- I should kill you." He swallowed nervously. "I should- but I can't do that. Not without offering you this chance. Leonides," He came to attention at her use of his name- even more to attention, if that was possible. "Take this chance. Take it, and run." But he couldn't run- and not just because of his broken leg.
"No. No, I won't." She narrowed her eyes at him, but she wasn't angry- yet. She only seemed frustrated.
"Leonides-" He cut her off- she was already threatening to kill him, the situation couldn't get much worse.
"This is my home! My family! I know nothing else- I don't want to know anything else! Please- don't make me leave!" Her expression hardened slightly, and her grip tightened on his face.
"Leonides. If you want to keep your life, you will leave- now." He shook his head furiously.
"This is my life- and you are the one trying to take it from me!" She flinched.
"Leonides, you have to-"
"I will not. If you want to kill me, then go right ahead- it's not like I can put up much of a fight." He tapped the tip of his crutch on the floor, briefly drawing her attention to it.
"I do not want to kill you, Leonides- but I will, if you push me to do so." This statement was in high contrast to her cradling his face. For lack of anything else to do to try to fight this, he nodded firmly, and stepped back, away from her. She looked relieved-
"Then do it." She blinked. "At least then, we'll both suffer." She stared at him- almost gaping, even- before her face hardened again.
"You are flirting with death, boy-" He shrugged.
"I'll be dead either way. You pretend like you're giving me a chance, but you're just dragging it out, so you don't have to get your hands dirty. I refuse." He used her word from earlier- too bad she wasn't just having to deal with him on a sugar high, right now.
"Leonides-" He shook his head, and put his hands over hers, on his cheeks.
"I refuse." She stared at him for a minute, her face slowly draining of the pain that had been there, this whole time. Then, she yanked her hands out from under his, and stalked back toward the door.
"So, you have made your choice." She said, her tone practically dead. "You made the wrong choice." She spun, aiming her wand at him, and even as he couldn't help but flinch, he stood his ground. "So be it."
He had learnt long before now that every time she raised her wand, pain was sure to follow- and this time was no different. With a flash of light, searing pain engulfed his entire body. He had never felt anything quite like this before- it was as if every nerve in his body was being set on fire, and shredded apart as thousands of needles pierced his skull. His legs felt like they had been covered in tiny little razor blade cuts, and then dipped in acid- and with how hard he was gritting his teeth, it felt like they, too, were reaching their breaking point.
It was impossible to focus on anything other than the sheer agony being inflicted upon his person, and how it seemed to stretch on throughout an eternity. Then, almost all at once, the pain stopped. The transition was jarring- black spots danced in front of his eyes, and when he opened them, he saw his mother, looking absolutely destroyed. Mostly, he was just surprised that he was still alive enough to open his eyes.
"Go, Leonides." Her voice shook, and all he could do was gape. "Leave, and live. Stay... and die. Slowly, and in more pain that you can possibly imagine." And he could imagine quite a bit of pain. After a second, he realised that he was no longer standing, and was instead sprawled out on the rug- he must have fallen, while under whatever spell she had cast upon him. He saw that the edge of the rug was kicked up, and his crutches were laying discarded on either side of him.
"No." He was scared- terrified, even. But the other option was- well, it wasn't an option. "No. No, I won't-" She lifted her wand again, and he shuddered. "Don't- please-" She hit him again, and it was- just as bad.
Breathtaking, in the worst possible way- he couldn't breathe. It felt like his lungs were being squeezed almost to the point of popping, as his rib-cage caved inwards like an impossibly heavy weight was crushing his chest- his head felt like it had been transfigured into a church bell that someone had just hit with the mother of all hammers- ironic, that- and the reverberations were making it throb in time with his erratic heartbeat. He tasted blood- his, thankfully, but had he bitten the inside of his mouth, or was it just... from somewhere deep inside of him? Then, again, after some incalculable amount of time, it ended. The only thing he could hear was his own shaky breathing, before his mother spoke up.
"Have you had enough?" She asked, and he wiped a hand across his mouth- and it came away red.
"...I wouldn't even make it down the staircase." He told her, and her wand dipped slightly.
"Let me worry about that. Come now, it's time to-" He shook his head, and she stopped.
"I promised Mia. I can't- I can't- I can't leave her." Her face hardened again.
"And if you stayed, you would just end up hurting her-" He sat up as far as he could- which unfortunately, wasn't all that far- before shaking his head furiously, no matter how hard it made his head spin.
"I would never-"
"You would. Eventually, inevitably, you would. Her, me, anyone and everyone. No matter how much you want to keep them safe, you will hurt them in the end- it is in your nature. Do us all a favor and leave, before it gets to that point." It certainly wasn't the worst thing she had said to him that day- but it hurt more than just about anything else. It felt like icy claws were digging into his heart, and making a home there- something he may never be able to completely dislodge.
"Mother-" She cut him off, raising her wand again, and he was struck by blind panic. "Maman, please!" She hesitated, and he let his head fall back in defeat, squeezing his eyes shut. "Please... I'll leave. Just please... no more. I can't take it." There was silence for a minute, and when he peeled his gritty eyes open, he saw that she had lowered her wand- and when their eyes met, she nodded heavily.
"Can you get to your feet?" He hesitated, taking a second to evaluate himself. It... didn't look great.
"I suppose I'll have to, won't I?" Her lips quirked downward, and rather than keep her waiting- and risk getting hit with that spell again- he dragged himself over to his bed, and used a combination of the end post and the mattress to help him struggle his way back to his feet. Once there, he sagged, hugging the bed post tightly as he tried to catch his breath- and keep down his lunch.
"Well done." He huffed out a bitter little laugh.
"Now is when you choose to praise me? Did I pass out, and this is actually all a really, truly awful, dream?" He glanced back at her, and she frowned.
"Given the situation, I will allow you that one little snipe- do not try for a second." He swallowed, trying to ignore the taste of his own blood- and at the same time, being grateful that it was only his blood that he was tasting.
"Yes, Mother." He turned to her, managing to straighten up- mostly. "I... I don't suppose you would allow me to speak to Mia-" She cut him off, stalking over to him- pausing only briefly to scoop up his crutches on the way, so she could shove them into his hands.
"Not a chance." He figured- but he had to try. "Brace yourself." His eyebrows furrowed, as she dug her fingertips into his shoulder, once more.
"What-?" And then, they disapparated.
He expected to reappear downstairs, in the grand foyer- but instead, he shivered, as they arrived in the middle of a deserted alleyway between two buildings. He gulped in air, his head spinning wildly, and his mother guided him backward, until he was leaning against the wall of the nearest building- then, she released him.
"Where... where are we?" For the second time, she shrugged.
"Nowhere. Nowhere that matters, anyway." He glanced around briefly, before quickly returning his eyes to her- to his mother.
"Maman-" She shook her head, looking incredibly pained, once more.
"Farewell, Leonides." She stepped back, and he reached out a hand for her.
"Mama-" With a crack, she disappeared... and he was alone. He stared at the empty space she had just vacated for a few minutes, trying to ignore the feeling of his heart shattering to pieces in his chest. Then, finally... he gave up on waiting for her to change her mind and come back to bring him home, and looked around again.
There was absolutely nothing special about the area- and when he hobbled to the mouth of the alleyway on his crutches, he saw nothing much interesting out there, either. Why she had chosen here, of all places, he couldn't begin to grasp- but now, this was where he was. And he didn't know what to do, now that he was here. A breeze blew through the alley, and he shivered again- right. He supposed that it would probably be a good idea to get as far away from where she had left him as possible- so that if she came back to end his miserable little life, she wouldn't find him still sitting there, waiting for her... like some sort of particularly suicidal little duckling.
He moved out of the alley, looked left, then right- which way? He hesitated, then shrugged- it wasn't like it mattered. He wasn't headed anywhere in particular- other than toward the rest of his life... and away from his old one. So, seeing as his right leg was the one that was broken, he went left. And he walked. And walked. And walked.
He walked until the pain in his injured leg was near excruciating, and the pain in the rest of his body was reaching similar levels of unbearableness. He walked until the sun leaked out of the sky, and the only light came from the moon. He walked until his stomach grumbled and growled- then on, past the point where it stopped- and then again, when it started to cramp. After a point, the chill of the breeze stopped bothering him- and maybe that was a bad sign, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
It was only when he stumbled, and almost fell over from lightheadedness, that he came to a stop. He couldn't just stop in the middle of the street, however, so he found the closest building with a front stoop, and gingerly, curled in on himself- trying to protect himself from whatever wind might make it past the enclosing walls of the space.
Then, he sat there, leaned against the wall next to his crutches, and shoveled three of his remaining butterscotches into his mouth as he stared up at the full moon- wondering idly if there was anyone in the world having a worst day than he was, right now.
Eventually, that was where he ended said day- falling asleep against the wall of the front stoop of some stranger's house, not having the slightest idea where he was. Not knowing whether he would ever see his sister again- and even if he did, whether she would still... whether she could forgive him for this, where their mother couldn't.
Where he couldn't even forgive himself.
(A/N): Cipicia: 'Run away, Leonides. Run. Run away, and never return.'
Leonides: '...Jesus Christ, Scar- get a grip on yourself.'
also
Cipicia: 'Leave, or I'll be forced to kill you.'
Leonides: 'Do it, I dare you. You won't.'
Cipicia: *crucio's him*
Leonides: 'Okay, maybe you will. Still, I'm not leaving.'
Cipicia: *crucio's him again*
Leonides: 'First of all, ow. Second of all, is it to late too take the 'leave' option?'
also
Sebastien: *holding a sword to the throat of the boy that he currently thinks is his son*
Sebastien: 'Aw, getting frustrated, are we? Poor thing, but that's nothing compared to-'
Cipicia: 'Sebastien- away.'
Sebastien: 'Fuck.'
Sebastien: *skulks off*
also
Leonides: 'Stupid, proud ancestors, and their stupid grand staircases!'
The Joannis Ancestors: 'Hey! They were all the rage, back in our day!
The Joannis Ancestors: 'Oh also, get the fuck out of our house you filthy half-breed (but mainly the first thing).'
Translations (French):
Mère = Mother
Maman = Mama
Fencing Terms (also mostly French):
Salle d'armes/Salle = Salle is the french word for 'room'- but it is also used specifically to describe a fencing school (aka, the place where fencing is taught). There is another term, 'salle d'armes', which means 'a room or hall used for fencing'. The reason I chose to use 'salle d'armes' instead of just 'salle' is because the room being used isn't exactly a school, and more of a training room, so I figured 'salle d'armes' fit better.
Lunge = The most common and basic type of attacking movement in modern fencing.
Parry = A deflection of an attack.
Riposte = An attack made directly following a successful parry.
Beat = A simple preparatory motion. A sharp controlled blow to the middle or 'weak' of the opponents blade, with the objective of provoking a reaction or creating an opening. (Sebastien likes to do this often, and it unnerves the CRAP out of Leonides.
Recovery = A return to the starting position, in order to regroup.
Appel = Stamping the front foot to the ground, to produce a sound to distract or startle the opponent. It may precede a lunge, or be used merely as a distraction.
Feint = An offensive movement resembling an attack, that is made to draw a reaction from an opponent- preferably leaving them open to a real attack.
Touché = The French word for 'touched' or 'touch', used by the referee to declare that a touch has been made- in this case, Florimond (Sebastien's trainer) is signalling that Sebastien scored a successful hit on him, and the bout is over.
En Garde! Prêts? Allez! = On guard! Ready? Go!
Corps-à-corps = Body-to-body. The action of two fencers coming into physical contact with one another with any portion of their bodies or hilts, which is illegal in foil and sabre bouts, but not in épée. In épée it doesn't violate the spirit of the game, but contact may not be accompanied with any brutality or forcefulness (intentional or not)- but I doubt that Sebastien is adhering to THAT part of the rules.
Piste = In modern fencing, the piste or strip is the playing area on which a bout takes place. Forcing your opponent off their end of the strip earns you a point, and if a combatant leaves the side of the piste, play is reset, and their opponent is allowed to advance one meter toward their end of the piste.
Épée = One of the three types of fencing categories, and the name of the sword used for the category of the same name. I picked this to be Sebastien's favorite, because the target area (the area on your opponent which you can hit in order to score a point) is the whole body, rather than just the torso (foil) or the upper body (Sabre), and because Épée is the only discipline that allows for counter attacks- meaning that once your opponent hits you, you have a small opportunity to hit them in return, in order for you both to earn a point, which isn't a thing in the other two disciplines. It is also the only one without a 'right of way' system, which basically means it's the closest thing to a free for all you can get in fencing- which is right up Sebastien's alley.
Foil = One of the three types of fencing categories, and the name of the sword used for the category of the same name. I picked this to be Leonides's favorite because it has the smallest target area (just the torso), and is the lightest of the three swords. Foil was also the only one of the three to allow women to compete in the Olympics, from 1924 onward, until Épée was introduced in 1996. (There's probably some stigma there, where Sebastien looks down on foil for being the 'woman's option'- and it is in fact the one that Cipicia has trained with, in the past.) If you think it's unrealistic that Leonides trains fencing, all three disciplines have an 'under 10' age category, and that's not all that far off.
Sabre = One of the three types of fencing categories, and the name of the sword used for the category of the same name. This blade is the only one with a 'sharp' edge (it's not sharp, it's just used for cutting and slashing movements, as well as thrusting ones). Like all fencing weapons, the tip is blunted to avoid injury. I picked this to be Sebastien's second favorite, because of the fact that you can do cutting movements with it.
On the subject of grips, I imagine that Sebastien uses an Italian grip, and forces Leonides to use at least a French grip, rather than the far more ergonomic Pistol grip.
I decided that if I named story arcs like I named chapters, this one would be called 'Leonides and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day'- also, the fact that it's the full moon is the reason why I had to change these chapters from being set on October 26th to October 18th. Because when I screwed up the year, I looked up the October full moon for 1977 (which was the 26th), but when I realised my mistake, I had to look it up and change it to the October full moon for 1967, which is the correct year (making it the 18th). Is there a reason for it to be set on the full moon? Not really. I just needed to pick a date, and thought it would be cool to have Little Leo look up at the full moon during his time of distress, only to have Remus doing the same, somewhere far away. Who is having the worst day is debatable, to be honest.
This chapter has had minor edits made to it on 27/7/23 - missed the r in arched, wrote Healer's instead of Healers, and changed Leo waiting like a 'particular suicidal duck' to a 'particular suicidal little duckling', because I wanted to combine the phrase 'a sitting duck' while evoking the feeling that Leo was basically an ugly duckling that was being abandoned by its mother. Updated the trigger warning.