The Beast and The Swallow

Warm fluffiness hugged Leonte's body in an almost suffocating embrace. Sweat trickled down his brow and gathered on his back, but he couldn't move a muscle. Even his eyelids had decided to pretend to be made of lead and remained shut, increasing his frustration and annoyance. Luckily, his ears were still working somewhat, and he could hear two broken, yet familiar voices.

"How could you… this to him?"

"I didn't… You… mistaken…"

"Pouring oil onto… You failed him! Why didn't… stop?"

"And… were you? … easy to blame. Because of you, he… like this!"

Leo's hands weakly clawed at the covers. They were fighting again! And again, it was because of him. The pain that stabbed through his heart was worse than the aching in his body. With immense effort, he willed his eyes to open, his lazy eyelids fluttering to clear the blurry picture. This action drained almost all of his strength, but Leo pushed further.

"Mo… ther…"

A rasp squeezed through his cracked lips, followed by a burning cough. The mattress caved under someone's weight. A large hand lifted his head a bit, and a cup was pressed to Leonte's mouth. He took a hungry sip, the cool water quenching the fire in his throat. It brought him some relief and gave him the final push to open his eyes. A gaunt, worried face entered his field of vision.

"Your mother went to bring a physician."

"Father… " Leonte took another sip. "Greetings… Your… Imperial Highness."

"Rascal!" With a shaking hand, Llewelyn stroked his son's cheek. "You sure have some life in you left to still want to play around."

Leonte motioned to brush away the prying hand but stopped mid-motion. Behaving like a child and rubbing his face in his father's palm was unbecoming. But maybe… right now, he could allow himself to be a bit selfish. Closing his eyes again, he savoured the gentle touch, still noticing that the familiar, warm hand had become even bonier.

A light flick to his forehead made Leonte look up where he was met by two piercing blue eyes. Strange how his father could put gentle worry and disappointment in a single glare. The Crown Prince sighed and the wrinkles on his forehead deepened.

"You stirred some trouble today." His voice was calm, but the steely undertone was clearly audible. "You were in the wrong for trying to escape the assessment, yet you also dared to anger your grandfather. Why?"

Leonte bit his lips in silence.

"Now you're holding your tongue!?" His father looked really angry, yet the hand that ruffled Leo's hair was as gentle as always. "Why couldn't you be as considerate when talking to the Emperor? You got lucky that he decided not to punish you further for showing disrespect to the imperial authority. If you decide to miss another assessment, he won't be so lenient to you… or to me. He made it very clear."

"Did he do something to you?!" Leonte tried scrambling up despite his aching body. "Did he punish you because of me?!"

"Of course not." His father gently pushed him back down. "I am capable enough to talk myself out of an imperial earful. But he is right. Your behaviour reflects my teachings… not that I find issue with them. But more than that, he knew I was lying about giving you an assignment in the library."

Leonte snuggled among the pillows. It was so strange how his frail father could radiate such confidence and power. Under his piercing blue gaze, what had seemed to Leo as the best course of action regarding the situation was slowly turning to dust. The boy swallowed hard and said with a shaking voice:

"How… did you know? About the library and all…"

"You are my son. Of course, I know what you are up to." His father lifted an eyebrow. "Or at least I thought I did. How did you learn kumo-mai?"

"I… I watched Mother's escort knight and Father Ermin practice sometime. And, uhm, I might have asked a squire or two to practice with me, discreetly. Uhm… don't do anything to them. Please!"

"I won't. It's not a crime." His father rubbed his face, and Leo realized how tired he looked. "The results of your private lessons sure were something. Even so, you showed more luck than skill, catching your opponent off guard. If that man had decided to fight you earnestly instead of indulging in that little charade, you'd be lying here braced and bandaged. You understand?"

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"Yes…" mumbled Leonte.

"Oh, but I'm not sure you do!" With a sigh, his father put his palm on Leo's forehead. "You could have died. Look, you're feverish now! Overexerting yourself can permanently worsen your condition. You know that."

"I do."

"Then why?! Why did you follow your uncle's suggestion? Such an obvious trap…"

Biting his teeth, his father stopped abruptly. On his gentle face, Leonte could see some rare signs of hatred and fury. The boy's heart felt warm and torn at the same time. Telling his father the truth could make him worry even more. But keeping the truth hidden was crushing him. All the fear, the desperation, and the need to relieve his soul overcame him.

"An imperial guard… would measure his strength," whispered Leonte and averted his gaze. "But Uncle… might slip in temptation. If he had injured or even killed me, the second in line for the throne, you could have impeached him for malicious conduct. Even if Grandfather doesn't like me… he would be forced to punish him. After all, he is strong on tradition. And according to family law, a direct murder attempt on an heir is an act of treason. Whoever ancestor decided that murder by proxy is the way to do things in the Imperial Family was a useful coward, don't you think?"

Silence.

With a racing heart, Leonte dared to lift his head. His father's pale face had gotten even paler, his eyes round in shock and fear. Two trembling hands clawed at Leo's shoulders, their grip almost hurting him.

"L-Leo…" The words remained stuck in his father's throat. He clenched his teeth and exhaled a hissing breath before trying again. "How could you? How? Why?! You…"

"I… know that Uncle wants the throne." Leonte licked his lips. If he continued, his father might have an attack. Or a heart-burst. Or lose consciousness out of anger. But it was too late now. Staying silent would likely have the same effect. "I have ears. And people talk… around children. I know that you worry about Ris and me. What will happen to us when you… when you die. If Uncle is out of the picture, Mother can be Ris' regent when the time comes. That's why I-"

"You tried to commit suicide?!" His father screamed, his fingers digging into Leonte's shoulders with desperation. "Gods, Leo! You are just a child! You should stay out of the matters of succession! You… Who told you to do this?! Who came up with this plan? Was it Primate Leopold? I knew he was on Lionel's side, but to use you…"

"He didn't use me!" Leonte could see and feel his father's body trembling. "Grand-uncle has nothing to do with any of this. It was me. I… You always say to grab an opportunity when it presents itself. I thought… I could be useful. For once. Since I'm dying anyway."

"Oh, Leo! You aren't-"

"Stop lying!" shouted Leonte. Tears welled in his eyes, but he could no longer hold them back. "Everyone is saying it. M-my symptoms… progress faster. I… I'm the useless c-cursed… p-prince! T-the corpse son of a c-corpse father! I know w-why… why Grandfather insists on a…a… assessing… me. To sh-show how good R-Ris is. H-how healthy he is. Everyone wants Ris to… to be e-emperor. I… I'm burden! You know that!"

Instead of answering, his father pulled him in and began gently rocking him. His embrace was so frail, yet so warm. Leo breathed in his father's scent - of herbs and holy incense, trying to mask the smell of sickness. It was so familiar, so calming, so painful. The words and the tears kept pouring out.

"I… I d-don't wa-want to b-be emperor! Why… Why c-can't they j-just send m-me away?! Like U-Uncle Noah! I… I can gi-give up my succession. I j-just wa-wa-nt to read b-books! C-can't they ba-banish me… in peace?! Gra-Grandfather… won't miss me. M-Mother… hates me. No… no one w-will m-miss me…"

"What about me?" whispered his father gently.

'You'll die soon!' wanted to scream Leonte, but only a whimper escaped his lips. Still, it was as if his father could read minds. The arms around Leonte's body tightened their grip.

"I'm not going anywhere soon," he said, kissing the child's forehead. "Forget about the throne. About your uncle, about Ris, about everyone. You are my treasure. I want you to live! Live, Leo! Live not because of them, but in spite of them. Promise me, Leo! Promise me that you won't do something so dangerous and stupid again! Promise me… that I won't have to entomb you! Please, Leo!"

"Y-yes…" sniffled Leonte and buried his head in his father's shoulder. "I… I'm sorry. Sorry… D-don't… leave me!"

"Not in life. Not in death."

Unbeknownst to Leo, there was a dangerous glint in his father's eyes. The ruby ring on Llewelyn's right hand, the Crown Prince's seal, caught a stray ray of sunshine and spilled bloody reflections over the bedroom walls.

Little by little, Leo's breathing calmed down. Sadness and exhaustion took their toll, and the boy fell asleep. Llewelyn didn't let go. He looked at his son's slim, freckled face, the messy blond locks falling over his sweaty forehead, the little hands still grabbing tightly at his shirt, and his heart turned to stone.

Noah had warned him. No, he should have known even without a warning. After all, he had grown up in this wasps' nest. But he had tried to convince himself that the boys were still too young. That the times were changing. That the Emperor was mellowing with age. Murder by proxy - the favorite pastime of the Imperial Family. Oh, it was so dirty to pull out a dagger and stab your opponent in the open. But to hire an assassin; to use poison; to present it as an accident, this was all fine and encouraged! It built character. It trained survival and political prowess. It steeled the heart. It cultivated strength and ruthlessness. All things a future emperor needed.

Llewelyn clenched his teeth, his arms pulling the sleeping Leonte even closer. He had been a fool, basking in family bliss for ten years. He had pretended to be oblivious to Zoraidar's recent coldness, seeing it as the ill-expressed panic of a mother faced with her child's incurable disease. He had thought that Lionel would leave the boys alone, as long as he and Noah were there to occupy his attention. This had been foolish! Maybe his brain was also beginning to rot, just like his body. But there was still life left in this husk!

"Sorry, Noah," he whispered into the quiet room, "I'll have to ask you for another favor."