Chapter Twenty-One
1.
"What about this one?" Leonie asks Lysithea within the confines of their room. It is much easier to go through glyphs and wards when it's just the two of them.
Lysithea reads through what the sigil is supposed to do and nods slowly, "Let's give it a try."
Leonie takes the book back and drops it on her crossed legs. She focuses on the intent of the magic, clapping her hands together and closing her eyes. The magic surges to her palms, sparking against skin. Opens her eyes at the same moment of pulling her hands apart, a terrifying spiderweb-like circuit of pure magic hangs between callouses. The glyph forms itself with the strands; when it's stable Leonie announces, "It's good."
Lysithea hesitantly pokes a finger at it, hissing when it burns, "Not this one."
Leonie claps her hands together and absorbs the magic. She lets her own hiss out, shaking the smoke out and Healing her palms. "Too bad. Is that the last blocker?"
"Yes," the teen isn't happy. "There has to be some way of cutting off the Crest power. Maybe we're looking at this wrong. The diverters are numbing me, and the blockers are burning me. What are in between them?"
"Maybe there's something in the library," Leonie rubs her eyes, wincing at a minor shock from leftover magic. "Otherwise it would have to be something with holes in it to allow your Crest… out, for lack of a better word." She debates and debates with herself, but not yet. Don't reveal Crest bonds yet, and maybe the library can do that for her, no matter how much the Church has squashed that information. "Almost like a filter or sifter. There has to be something like that out there. Wasn't something- something like how the Church outlawed the creation of plastic because it wouldn't degrade naturally."
"Are you thinking about the flammable black water?" smack.
Leonie blinks in shock at how fast Lysithea covered her own mouth. Lysithea also appears stunned, but more scared than anything as her eyes dart around the room. Slowly, carefully, Leonie takes the hand away from the teen's mouth, "No one can hear outside this room. No one can enter without us knowing. You are safe. Do you want to talk about it?"
Lysithea shakes her head, no.
"Okay," Leonie nods. "You're okay. Are you still with me?"
"I'm not having a panic attack," Lysithea snaps, still paler than usual. "It just- reminded me. Of something. Something-" she sobs and wrenches her hand back to hide her mouth again.
Leonie nods and situates on the bed with her. Lysithea lunges for a hug and shudders with silent tears. She cries until she falls asleep. Leonie carefully clears the bed of books and papers, settling next to the girl when the teen won't let go in her sleep. The young woman sings a lullaby quietly to the air, mind hunting for memories as she tries to think why black water would be scary.
No, wait, flammable black water.
Crude oil.
Her memory draws up animals covered and helpless in it, ecosystems dying from it. Oceans on fire, air polluting. Something one world had taken to refining, while this one only has a misleading name for it. If they are the same thing, of course. Magic throws plenty of naturally occurring materials off kilter.
Leonie hopes that she is wrong in her thought process. That this is some other substance she has never encountered before. The idea that the Church may have control – or worse, purposefully chose to ignore it and now Those Who Slither in the Dark have it – is horrifying.
Not as horrifying as nuclear fission and fusion in this medieval-like setting, but the Church has made it clear they are much too stagnate to ever discover that within Leonie's lifetime. Small mercies.
2.
It's not that Leonie doesn't trust Lysithea… it's that she doesn't trust anyone to not try and kill her while she sleeps. The young woman awakens at every twitch, shuffle, or snort. As the first rays of sunlight hit their window, she is awake the moment Lysithea is. She blinks slowly at the pink eyes, Lysithea staring with a sleepy haze at the ceiling.
"I dreamed," the teen begins, tapping on Leonie's hand, "about a ward. It looked a lot like your alert one, only this was made to fit the entire border of the Alliance."
Leonie mutters into the pillow, "Did it work?"
"Yes," is hissed in amazement. "An alert of where and when, but not who. I couldn't figure out how to get the who."
Several ways, Leonie thinks. Sense of a Crest could narrow it done, get the name of everyone in the continent, or use something to capture an image. Each with their own difficulties and downsides. Instead of mentioning them, Leonie groans while she gets up, her hands still not forgiving from the last few glyphs, "Do you feel alright for some food, and then the library?"
"Yes," Lysithea sighs and gets out first. "Let's go surprise Claude with my presence."
They kindly look away from each other as they dress, no mentions or stares at the scars they bare.
The students get a two-day break from all mandatory activity, next week only getting one before they have to move out to the competition area. Proving more are adjusting to the early mornings, Raphael and Ignatz are sitting with Claude when Leonie and Lysithea arrive. Everyone else has arrived by the time they're finished and bantering about the week. Everyone – even Lysithea – is in a much better mood now that they aren't stressed with the need to workout today. Sluggish and tired, yes, but no tension or gearing up for a grueling day.
"You're going to study already?" Hilda makes a disgusted noise at the thought.
Leonie laughs, not feeling it, and gives the cover, "I have a lot to make up for and Lysithea's promised to hit me with it until it sticks."
"I didn't say it like that," the whitette denies but smiles nonetheless.
Claude's expression practically lit up when he heard where they were going, Leonie saw him hurry to put his stuff away, but it is surprising when he throws his arms around their shoulders, "Let's go then! There's plenty I want to see in the famous Garreg Mach Library."
Lysithea shoves his arm off and storms away. Leonie laughs, grabbing his hand and tugging him forwards, "The more the merrier!"
The young woman greets everyone they pass, needing to be pulled away at one point lest she start a full conversation with Alois. She and Claude wave cheekily in Seteth's open door as they pass. When they near the section of the second floor Leonie's never been to, she warns them, "I do have to leave at the tenth bell. Flayn and I are pulling out some old sheet music for her to go through, since band starts once classes are settled."
"At this point you're like her assistant," Claude eyes her, a burst of his Crest poking and sliding around the diverter ward.
"I'm just keeping busy," Leonie denies. "Flayn's great and has a lot of ideas and plans for this year. I like being a sounding board."
"Sounding board?"
Lysithea also has that look, like she's waiting to hear what familiar excuse Leonie is going to pull up. The orange haired woman tries come up with a good definition and ignores the questioning gazes on where she heard the words together, "It's like, you have an idea. You tell the idea to one or more people and get their feedback. It helps to determine whether the idea is a good – or reasonable – idea or not. The audience is the sounding board."
"Sounds like a Roundtable meeting, really," Claude shrugs and throws an arm over her shoulder again, holding out the free one. "Picture this. Five old people sit at a table. One of them throws out an idea, the other four tear it to shreds. This can go on for days."
"Sounds like torture."
He laughs, Lysithea coughing to hide hers, "It is, but sometimes things get done."
Claude drops his arm near the entrance to the library. He hurries in first, turning to get their reactions. Lysithea's eyes are bright at the several floors of books, plenty one-of-a-kind originals and thick volumes. She's practically stunned with the thoughts on where to start.
Leonie, however, feels something almost sticky wash over her as she enters. It's enough to make her pause and focus. There's something moving around her diverter ward, never trying to touch or connect, but instead attempting to keep track of everyone who enters. It's faint enough to come off after a few steps; likely she never would have noticed if it weren't for the feeling of moss – maybe a scent of pine or grass – being smothered by the thing. Though, maybe smothered is the wrong word, but something made by Seteth's magic and Crest abilities has been riddled with holes until only the untriggered alarms reside. Alarms that cannot trigger because they are not connected to any alert system. Like a solar powered timer with the line to the buzzer cut.
She tenses, and then forces herself to relax. To meet Claude's faltering gaze. To lie, "I never imaged so many books could exist."
Tomas comes over. Leonie has to cross her arms in order to not reach for a weapon. He guides them to an empty table, telling them to ask him if they have any questions, "There are labeled sections of books where only teachers and myself may remove them. You are free to look at the titles, but your earliest chance of reading them will be once you are assigned a main teacher to your House."
Challenge accepted, Leonie thinks as he hobbles away. She pulls out some scrap paper, a book with the connection schema, and a pen, "Claude, you're taller than me. Help Lysithea get some books down."
They blink down at her, Lysithea in particular long-suffering and used to her roommate's antics but has to ask, "Are you getting kicked out of the library?"
"Absolutely not," Leonie begins drawing out the matrix. "Just a bit of early homework."
Lysithea stops Claude's question with a, "Don't bother. She'll tell us when its ready."
Leonie's writing down notes about tweaks to the formula when they get back. She's so engrossed in the possibilities that her head doesn't raise when they return, only giving the two a wave of acknowledgement. She has previous scribbles about how to copy writing from the success on linking books, but what she wanted at the time was something used for conversation or to keep her original sources intact. Violating all copyright – not that Fódlan has great laws about it – had felt wrong from the echoes of her past life.
It's been long enough. She's over it. Time to see what the Church considers rated R.
"Okay," Leonie nods and leans back, satisfied with her changes. She pulls out a blank book and capped inkwell. "This would have been so much easier if we could take the books, but whatever. This way they can't get me for destruction of private property."
Claude pauses over his book, eyes narrowed, "I thought you said you weren't going to get kicked out. What are you doing?"
"I'll let you know in a few minutes. Don't want to embarrass myself even more."
Claude is cut off my Lysithea hissing, "If anyone asks, I don't know you."
"That's the spirit!"
Leonie flaunts off to the restricted section with a blank paper and pen to pretend to be making a list. She writes down a few names and what classes they might be used for, for show, and when there's no one on her wall she blinks.
Green and brown and red and black and what is that what isthatwhatisthat-
Blink.
There's something eating at the wards, mixing in with the restrictions. The Church employees and the ones who can mimic acceptance with fake Crest Stones can take the books and bring others in. Something moves in the real Crest-based magic, chewing through them before they can regenerate and seal off the fake things.
No time to be sick, Leonie thinks and forces a diverter ward on a book with an interesting name. She uses her Crest vision to make sure she isn't going to touch the wards or their parasite – makes sure nothing is on and eating away at her own constant magic – before licking a finger and placing an invisible mark on the spine of Crest Facts and Theories: Gloucester.
The first ward placed and working, she Leonie gathers her strength and keeps the diverter ward around the book while also holding a link that will work to copy all ink placements in the book. She slides into her chair, thinking how it would be easier if both books were facing the same way but oh well, and tells her tablemates, "Act natural."
Of course they don't, choosing to stare with wide eyes as she pops the inkwell cap and begins to slowly pour. The empty book cover absorbs the liquid, using three-quarters of the bottle before Leonie gets the sense it's finished. Her magic cuts first the link, then the copy, and finally the diverter. Leonie corks and stuffs it away, while Lysithea lunges across the table and flips the book open at its middle. Lines of handwritten words stare back at her, "Did you-"
Leonie finishes when her roommate doesn't, "Copy the content of a restricted book? Yes."
"Teach me," Claude stares at the book in awe.
"No. It's way above your current level of magic."
"Teach me then," Lysithea fans through the pages.
"It's way above your current stamina levels."
"Is not."
"Trust me," Leonie huffs and snatches the book back. "It is. I wasn't even sure it would work."
Claude snatches it back, "Can you get me the Riegan one?"
"Later," she promises and pushes it down so he has to look at her. "Let me check that it worked properly. It could be missing the back pages if there weren't enough."
He hands it back, reluctant, "Why Gloucester?"
"Curiosity," Leonie shrugs. "Also it was in a good spot to hide what I was doing. Speaking of which, how many people are looking over here?"
Claude does a very discreet scan, which Lysithea could learn a thing or two about, "Only a few. Tomas is busy on the second floor."
There are a handful of blank pages at the back, which means nothing should be missing. The ink at the start is rather faint, but there is no way to check if could be from a slow start or just appears that way in the real book. This one won't lose any information if the original is destroyed, but it also won't gain anything if there are any changes. It's like any other book now. "I'd offer to make copies of this, but I don't want to risk Seteth finding them out."
"Where are you going to hide it then?"
Leonie grins and tucks it in her pouch, gaze never leaving his, and Claude unable to see. He raises an eyebrow when her hands come up empty, and a look under the table reveals nothing. She winks, "You only have to ask for it when we're out of here."
Lysithea's grabbed the papers with Leonie's matrix and makes a noise at the complexity, "How did you know to do any of this?"
"A lot of trial and error," Leonie grabs a book from their pile in exchange. "Swordspersonship and the Rise of its New Arts; will we actually learn the history of Fódlan's sword styles in class?"
"Yes," intone the nobles.
School, Leonie thinks, longsuffering but cracking the book open. She swallows the curses at a list of names, titles, and their founding styles. It almost feels like a science class: thirty-percent dead people to remember and seventy-percent real-world applications. If true class is like this, Leonie is going to cheat the theory tests.
If she hurriedly tucks away all her advanced things the moment she sense Tomas coming to their floor or – even worse – over to them, then Claude and Lysithea do nothing but give her weirded out stares.
Leonie smiles winningly and resolves to copy every book in the Abyss library because this material is so censored and hateful towards the styles from other countries that it could give her allergies with all of its dogma.
3.
"Seven people?"
"I know!" Flayn clasps her hands together and vibrates, practically jumping for joy, "There are so many! I am looking forward to this year so very much!"
Leonie keeps her smile plastered on to hide the indignation. Uncultured plebs, NPCs the lot of them. Some haven't joined because of money – understandably – while many do not because of the lack of interest. Leonie would have taken it just for the boost in math, but it is not like the masses in this world can make a correlation between the two when the only marketable art is ever portraits or religion-related masterpieces. Bards are practically a dying breed in these lands, no wonder there are no singers on the battlefield.
Seven isn't many, but she's seen less in a jazz band. "It will be fun. Maybe we can see if the choir will team up with us sometime."
"An excellent idea!" Flayn points to another box in the storage room. Leonie shuffles things around to get it down. "I will send in a request to my brother if our group is comfortable to play with them. Ah, I guess we cannot quite decide on the music until everyone has chosen their instruments…"
"We can at least sort what is available," Leonie grunts and hefts the three-box load up. Flayn grabs the fourth and together they march back to the music room.
"Speaking of instruments, what do you wish to learn this year, Leonie?"
"Huh?" her brain crashes for a moment, because she's thought of what but hasn't exactly narrowed it down. "Oh, um, I'm not sure. I've gotten a taste of them all from tuning, but I guess I haven't decided yet."
"You may as well choose one today," her instructor says with bright eyes. "A gift, since you have been keeping me company all these weeks. Oh, how exciting! What section of instruments was most to your liking?"
There is no way she's swapping spit, no matter how long ago someone once touched the instrument, "I really liked the strings."
"That narrows it down some…" Flayn hums and sets her box down on the table. Leonie follows suit, unstacking.
It's like this: Leonie knows how to play the violin, choosing it would be an easy fly through the year that would showcase probably too much of her previous lessons. She doesn't want to learn an entirely new clef, the Church doesn't have any guitars, banjos, or lutes, and the day she has patience to learn the harp is the day the world burns. Shamir has made mention of a Koto, Flayn has wistfully described a zither, but neither of those instruments are recognized by the Church.
As nice as the easy route would be, Leonie suggests, "How about the cello?"
Flayn agrees with an eager squeal. She hustles Leonie into a seat, carries out two of the instruments, and gets to showing her the fingering and scales.
They lose their time to the lesson, but Leonie will admit – even to the quiet unfeeling parts – that it was a nice time.
Even with the hint of ozone running along her diverter.
4.
Leonie manages to slip away giving herself a few hours before dinner to hide down in the Abyss. Most of the things on the list they gave, she already has through a combination of paranoia and preparedness. She'll restock tomorrow easily enough, a busy day down in the village.
What is rather… annoying shouldn't be the right word but it's how Leonie feels… hurtful, would probably be the correct feeling if she could get it in the moment, is how she hands over the stuff and is told a few of the ones who needed the medicine have already passed. As though it's her fault for not completing a fetch quest on time.
Leonie acts the part of so sorry, let's them think she's some kind of pushover as the ones grieving demand that she gets the goods here faster if she wants a continued place here. It should be sad; she should be sympathetic and understanding. People are dead and some are blaming her, twisting her exchange for harbour as a promise for goods.
Blaming her and not the system that put them there.
Leonie says all the right words in all the right places, thinking swords and knives. Stabby slash kill.
At least aboveground, the people she can stand to hangout with don't blame her for living their lives.
Maybe it's this place. Maybe it twists something in people. Would not surprise Leonie if there was some magical McGuffin keeping the people in their woes and misery. Would not surprise her at all if Yuri turned out to be some kind of Dragon of Suffering, what with how the scent of cold and ice lingers all around.
Either way, she's only sticking around to get what she needs. No point staying in the library now that she is sure she can copy everything it holds.
5.
A lot of these things have Seteth's signature and Crest sense lingering on it, a date of removal marked. Most of them are covering up some sordid affair of the Church or religious questioning. There's no one else in the library, Leonie even put up a ward to influence people away while she layers books and papers on top of one another and drips ink down to copy it all. She doesn't touch anything with Seteth's Crest – the only magical signs down here; not even a lick of water or mold repellent – and has made it twenty-one books in when she comes across the Encyclopedia of Fódlan's Insects.
Opening to a random page reveals it is most certainly not about insects. Leonie snorts and does a quick flip through the pages, pausing every now and then to read and lose hope in the future. The Church has put a stop to a lot of advancements, things from trying to understand the insides of a human body to an honest-to-goodness printing press. It's a lot of awful that pricks her skin like tiny ants, the idea that someone is cutting off science because they don't want to undermine the teachings of the Goddess. Restricting education from the masses by making sure all books must be written by hand. Never to know if someone died from cancer or poison, all because cutting open a dead body is just shy of banned in the eyes of the Church.
The public reasoning: Faith magic scans can tell the very basic of how someone died if it isn't obvious. Rotting on the inside, bleeding on the inside, sickly blood. Fódlan doesn't have words for all the things in their bodies. Most nobles think their spine is one long bone.
Leonie almost closes the book, done with the sickening sense and resolving to read it when she must stay up late for whatever reason, when three words catch her eyes, fresh in her mind from the night before.
Flammable Black Water
'A sticky black liquid was discovered in northern Faerghus.'
She reads the whole passage, but the first line sticks and whirls in her head. Something she remembers but has lost the sense of from the time gone by. A horror that settles, real but distant, seen behind a screen.
Seen but not seen.
Said over and over again, trying to keep a timeline of a future, who lives and who dies, who stays and who doesn't.
Her mind tracks from one thought – ending – to the next. Leonie can't recall the details after all these years, but she has notes on what she could remember. She digs the book out of her pouch now, practically slamming it on the table in her rush to find something that niggles and itches at her to remember.
For a moment, she cannot process the words on the correct page. Leonie flips back and has to read through the others because she desperately wants the clues to be wrong. Let there be other examples, please.
The Golden Deer ends with: Swamp - Poisoned
Blue Lions has: Knife - Those Guys Still Around
She skips to Silver Snow: Castle - Her Own People
"No," is the pained noise from a very cold, attention sharped Leonie who goes back to the supposedly hidden choice.
Red, because she had forgotten the real House colour by the time she could write it down, Eagles:
Kingdom - Rhea Downs In Flames
Leonie feels her legs give out before they do. She catches herself on the table, sinking to the floor with her head hanging. She can only hope that Rhea didn't use crude oil to burn the city. Can only hope that when she killed the civilians, it wasn't with chemicals that would kill the environment and doom everyone there to suffering.
Leonie can only hope that when Rhea was going down, she wasn't trying to destroy everyone and everything with her.
Leonie can only hope, because she'll never let it get to that point, even if she must destroy Seiros and turn the world against her.
She won't let her people suffer over one person's sinking ship.
6.
Oh.
Her people.
When did that start to happen?
It doesn't feel like friendship, and people are not things. They are not hers and will never be hers.
But Leonie wants them to be happy.
Healthy.
Safe.
There is a memory that she almost doesn't want to remember. Won't turn away from.
Will you spare Claude?
Leonie won't ever let it get that far.
7.
Throughout the years it has been harder and harder to remember the routes. Some memories feel completely buried, even if the words are there on the page.
Leonie can remember a scene where Rhea burned the Kingdom capital.
She can remember a scene where Knights turned into beasts.
No matter how hard she tries, no matter how many times it is written, she cannot remember scenes on the bridge.
J̸̢̎ũ̷̼̩͂d̵̞͗i̸̗̊̐t̴̼̩̉͐h̴̘̯͆́,̶̩͛ ̴͈͑͘I̴͕̅'̸͍̺̈́̊m̶̱̯̂ ̴̠̗̑͘s̸̜̉͐o̴̝͌r̷̻̀̈r̶̦͙̊͆y̷̼̆̋.̸͚̺̐.̵̹̓̕ͅ.̴̼͛̉ ̷̤̃I̵̡̩͆̃ ̵͍̟̄̈́l̷̙͙̿̂é̸̤͖̿ą̸̛͝ͅv̷̼̅e̷̫͍͂ ̴̺͚͑t̵̮͘ḩ̴̜̃̆ë̷̻́̾ ̸̻́͜r̵̩͜͝e̸̺̮̊͝s̷̳͛t̶̰̰̀ ̸̝͋͝t̵͖̫̏ơ̶̥̼̒ ̴̳̲̊̿y̵̜̪̒õ̵̯̘̃u̸̝̭͗͝.̷̻̙̆.̴̙̕.̴̻̦̀
There is something missing, but it isn't important. What is, is finding some way to make sure Lysithea isn't in constant pain day in and day out.
8.
Bernadetta clings to her back the whole morning, and Leonie keeps pace with Dorothea for two laps before calling for breakfast. The young woman waves to where Claude sits alone, and then to where Mercedes beckons them to the unofficial Blue Lions table. Claude picks up his things and goes to them with little prompting, Dorothea manages to fluster Hubert by the time she convinces Edelgard and he to follow.
"We're going to a café today, down in the village," Leonie explains when Dimitri asks her plans for today. "Well, Dorothea, Mercedes, and I. Bernadetta is going with Linhardt and Lysithea to the library. I think Annette and Ashe are joining us. Anybody here is welcome to come."
"Thank you for the invitation," Edelgard says, maybe a little wistful, "but I have a meeting with Archbishop Rhea today."
"Ah," Dimitri looks sheepish, "myself as well. Claude?"
"I've been told to stick around where people can see me," he leans back on the bench, trying to step on Leonie's foot under the table. He'll need to have a speed buff to win footsies with her. "Apparently I'm going to get a talk sometime today."
"Glad I'm not in charge," Leonie mutters around a spoon. Swallows. Knocks her heel on his. "Dedue? Hubert? Want to come?"
The decline, one more politely than the other.
"Ferdinand is also coming," Dorothea throws in. "Anyone from the Deer, Leonie?"
"Do you want me to invite Lorenz?"
Claude's cousin smirks and leans in to whisper, "I do so enjoy watching them feed each other's delusions."
Leonie rolls her eyes, Claude trapping her foot in the moment of weakness, "I'll ask."
She swipes her foot out and pins his.
Mercedes hums away from her conversation to look Dorothea in the eye, "I wonder what Caspar is doing today."
9.
"So, Ashe," Leonie begins, eyeing her teacup as if it has done her a disservice, "how was your week?"
Mercedes slides her a dreamy-looking glance before getting pulled to watch Annette argue noble prestige against Lorenz and Ferdinand.
"I-it was good," the teen startles. "I've done a lot of training back home, so I think I am doing better than most in my class."
"Always glad to hear that," Leonie nods. "Not a lot of people did this intense stuff we're doing now. I was actually really surprised with my class. The Deer are pretty balanced between the physically buff and those trying their best to finish a lap."
"Ah, yes, I've heard you all finish together? Not that there's anything wrong with that! It's just, I've gotten used to hearing about the training stars. Um, Hilda would have to be the only one I hear about from the Deer."
"Much to her displeasure," Leonie laughs. "She would rather be sleeping or making art than exercise. Apparently she has to keep in shape to control her Crest? I don't get it, but I'm not the one who needs to."
"That… sounds like a few in my class," Ashe agrees. "A few I've met with the Crests of Charon and Daphnel have had to do a lot of training. And the heirs… um, have all had sparring experience to prepare for the mock tournament."
"Sounds reasonable," she gives him a comforting smile, "but what's a few spars in comparison to fighting someone who has everything to lose?"
"W-what do you mean?"
Leonie shrugs, "If I don't get into the main class, then I'm really just wasting money that could have gone towards getting a certification or two on my own. I have a lot to lose if I don't get in, while a lot of the noble kids might lose a bit of respect for their family names. From what I hear, we'll probably be competing in the archery contest at some point. Don't go easy on anyone, you get it? All of us who need this will be doing our best!"
"I think I understand," Ashe nods with wide eyes. "I look forward to facing you then, Leonie!"
"Ashe," Lorenz snaps from the other side of the table, turning his glare at Annette to a more refined stare, "you are a noble son, correct? Please tell us your opinion on the proposed Primi Heredis bill."
"I- uh-" Leonie sees the teen visibly swallow adopted son, "that is the one where the first child born to a household shall be heir unless mandated otherwise by the Church?"
"Correct."
Leonie makes a face at the politics but leans back and listens. Mercedes is looking rather sickly, not that anyone would normally notice under her airy aura, while Dorothea is rubbing circles on the blonde's hand and paying rapt attention to the networking and information sharing around her.
With all the inbreeding, Leonie's surprised more than one kid can be produced in a household. Must have something to do with the Crests. Cruel, magical plot devices.
10.
"Leonie!"
Said woman looks up from the magic tricks she was playing with the children – keep ignoring how crazy healing magic is, don't think too hard on how three more kids no longer have Crests killing them – and can't help the curse that slips out her mouth, "Godfrey?!"
He gives her a greeting hug, and she makes sure not to squish him when she returns it.
"What are you doing here- wait," she turns to the kids. "Everyone, this is Godfrey von Riegan. Godfrey, this is-" and she then patiently lists off the names of over twenty kids.
"Nice to meet you!" he waves once it's over, obviously overwhelmed. "Do you kids mind if I steal Leonie for a few minutes?"
There are a few complaints, but Leonie digs out an old, battered book with stories and hands it to one of the older kids that's been taught reading and maths. While they're busy, Leonie walks beside Claude's uncle, his guards falling in line behind them, "Your letter said you were coming, but I didn't think you'd show until after classes were made."
"I'll probably be back here then too," Godfrey admits. "Well, myself or Judith. We're the only two allowed to get Claude out when Oswald's too sick to participate in the Roundtable. So, anyways, what have you been up to?"
Leonie tells him about training, about the people she's getting to know from other Houses, about how her and Lysithea have just moved back to the Golden Deer dormitories.
"Dorothea is now rooming with Bernadetta, and speaking of what the heck, Godfrey? Did you even know she was going to be here?"
He mutters evasively, "I'm surprised you figured it out."
"She definitely looks more like you than Claude," Leonie checks to make sure this is the correct street the girls said they would be shopping in. "When was the last time you spoke to her."
Very. Telling. Silence.
"Oh wow," Leonie drawls. "Yet, somehow, you don't have the worst father of the year award. Congratulations, Godfrey. Guess we'll need to fix how we have a better relationship than the two of you. There they are now, hi ladies!"
It's Godfrey's turn to curse, "You planned this."
"You gave me the perfect opportunity. Like ripping off an old bandage. Talk to her."
"Leonie," Dorothea says coolly, eyes warily going to the guards and obvious noble escorting them. "Are you doing alright?"
"Never better," Leonie replies with a smile that shows a little too much teeth. "Ladies, this is Godfrey von Riegan," there's a little choking gasp from Annette while Mercedes smiles wider and Dorothea goes still like a predator. "He's a pretty nice guy. Sponsored me, Raphael, and Ignatz to come here. Godfrey, these are my friends, Dorothea Arnault, Mercedes von Martritz, and Annette Dominic. Dorothea, Godfrey has something he wants to tell you."
The man visibly gulps and doesn't offer to go somewhere private for this. Leonie isn't sure if that is a point in his favour or not. He nervously runs a hand through his hair and starts with, "I don't know if you remember me… It's been a long time but, I, um, know your mother. We write letters to each other."
Dorothea is quick on the uptake, connecting puzzle pieces Leonie doesn't know about to conclude with a small shake of her head and a deadpan, "You're joking."
He smiles a little softer, a little more reflective, "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me."
"Does Claude know?"
"No," Leonie butts into this very family moment, "or else we would have had words ages ago. I only got my suspicions confirmed today."
Let it never be said Mercedes couldn't see the subtext, she just normally chooses to ignore it, "Oh, so should we call you Sir Arnault, since you are not in line to inherit the Riegan household?"
"Oh Goddess," Annette mutters with widening eyes. "Oh Goddess."
Dorothea and Godfrey both get a 'let's keep this on the downlow' look on their faces. It won't surprise Leonie when, after Godfrey treats the girls to a meal and catches up with his daughter while she gets the comfort and security of her allies, the three non-Riegans ladies promise their silence while the guards are assured to be some of Godfrey's most trusted.
For now, Leonie is going to enjoy someone else's drama.
A/N: Somehow, Are You the Father: Riegan Edition is the least crazy thing to happen to Leonie over the break.
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