Chapter Text
Prologue: The Witchling
It was said that the heavens cried tears of pity for the lands of Nohr. For as long as Leo could remember, the sun hardly broke past the grey, ashen clouds in the sky that appeared more like smoke and soot than the stretches of cotton in other nations. Nearly every single day, rain would pour from the skies seemingly without end. The crops were over-watered and drowning, floods would sweep across the lands and break past barriers. It was practically marshland, infertile and unusable, but there was nothing anyone could do about it—not during King Garon's reign.
No mage nor sorcerer could send away the dark clouds and bring out the sunlight; they couldn't draw out the excess nutrients poisoning the crops or nurture the soil. Rather, it may have been more accurate to say that they could, but no mage nor sorcerer ever dared.
The court's favourite and most enjoyable past-time recently has been the witch hunt.
It's been that way for most of Leo's life. At the tender age of six, he had watched as his mother was taken from him, seized by the castle guards, and forced to kneel in front of their king, the man whom he called father, and in front of the noble court. The aristocrats in the audience had whispered viciously like the hissing of snake's nest while Leo clutched tightly onto the hand of his older half-sister. The atmosphere had been suffocating, stifling, and he could hardly breathe, too ill at ease. Neither he nor Camilla could look away from the scene, forced to watch as one of the guards tore the front of his mother's bodice, revealing her star sign branded between her breasts.
“Check the boy!” one of the other concubines in attendance had shouted, and an uproar of agreement was muttered between the noblemen and women. Leo had clung onto Camilla's hand until he was torn away from his older sister, tears of fright burning at his eyes. Nausea had bubbled in the pits of his stomach, but he had remained unmoving. The guardsman had given him a pitying glance but said nothing as he had torn open Leon's button shirt and forced down his trousers despite the protests of his older sister and brother.
The hissing whispers of disappointment had rung in his ears like death knells.
Leo's skin was snow white, clear, and flawless.
The young prince was shoved back towards his siblings, and Camilla had hurriedly dressed him the best she could even though he was trembling like a frightened, terrified, deer while Xander had sent for a maid to help his sister and brother. The last thing he had seen before he was escorted to his room by Gunter was the sight of a general raising his blade in the air. A second later, he had heard his mother gasp for breath, but Gunter had obscured his vision.
Little did the court nobles know that, only a few years later, his star sign revealed itself on his thigh like a blood brand as though to mock them. A crescent moon pierced with an arrow a hue darker than his pale complexion had occupied his flesh and his mind for days. Eventually, he grew more comfortable with it, and hiding his star sign had become second nature to him. He took pride in it as well; it was a symbol of the Moon Goddess, one of the water trigons and, rather ironically, goddess of the hunt. Nevertheless, he could help his people in secret by silencing the pouring rain for a brief period of time, enough time for the villagers to build a shelter above the crops to prevent more rainwater from drowning the saplings. He could also draw out the excess water sunk deep into the roots and fertilise the land as best and as soon as he was able.
Thus, help he did once he was well into his fifteenth year.
He travelled with his two retainers, a former outlaw and a swordsman from a foreign land (whom he knew had aptitude for the dark arts just as he did), on missions his father tasked him. He tried his best to spare as many innocent lives as possible and to enrich the soil.
It was only a matter of time before he was caught.
Leo lasted nearly four years.
“I apologise, My Lord,” the village chief said to him as his father's guardsmen barged into the small hut. “They have my daughter, and they promised to return her in exchange for you.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Niles snarled as he readied his bow. “I thought there was something odd about you today; I should have known better than to have played along.”
Just before he could draw an arrow from his quiver, Leo stretched out an arm, stilling the archer's movements. “Stand down,” Leo ordered his retainers.
“But, Milord!” Odin protested.
“There are far too many of them,” Leo stated. “We are outnumbered. If you know what is best for you, do as I say and stand down.” Glancing out of the corner of his eye, Leo said, “Odin, lower your sword.”
Gritting his teeth, Odin obeyed, and within a split second, soldiers flooded the room. “Leave the retainers here!” barked the captain. “They can't do anything by themselves!”
A swarm of them flanked Leo's side, restricting his movements, to escort him out of the chief's home. As he passed the older man, Leo remarked coldly, “I hope you see your daughter again.” He didn't turn his head to watch as the older man (“Ungrateful dick,” Niles grumbled) shuddered. Knowing his father, or his father's general, it was an empty promise.
Not only was this a betrayal to their prince, by keeping his abilities a secret, this entire village might as well be regarded as traitors.
Ignoring the villagers' curious, bewildered stares as Leo climbed into the carriage, the door shut and shackled behind him, the prince—or former prince, he supposed—sighed and began to count down the minutes and hours before his sentence.
The crime of practising witchcraft and sorcery was second only to treason, and in either case, there was an unforgiving punishment: execution.
Nobody could save this village now. The village chief was a fool to have believed his father's corrupted guard. Odin and Niles, undoubtedly, would try to help as many innocent escape from the soldiers' wrath, but there was no way to know what would happen to this tiny village. It would have been otherwise insignificant if his father's general, Iago perhaps, hadn't used it as a trap to lure the Second Prince of Nohr.
Nobody could save him now. Not his sisters, not his brother, and certainly not his father—not when King Garon was the one who enforced this very law in the first place, not when King Garon started the sport of the witch hunt.
He prayed that, at the very least, Odin would get away from this country, return to his homeland, before the swordsman's star sign was discovered as well.
With nobody to keep him company, Leo held his tongue and watched as the sun lowered beyond the horizon, as the sky darkened into blackness, and as Castle Krakenburg came into full view as cold and lifeless as ever. He listened as the soldiers tackled the lock caging him inside the carriage before wrenching open the door. Without waiting for them, Leo stepped out of the carriage of his own accords. The soldiers lurched forward, ready to restrain him in case he tried to escape, but Leo was no fool. He could not run far, not with this many men in pursuit of his hide. Instead, he marched towards the castle gates that opened for them.
Without waiting for the captain to prompt him of their destination, Leo marched towards the throne room. That was where his father awaited; that was where he always would be, lounging on his throne and overseeing his domain, ridding it of the blemishes that would only hinder his goals and ambitions.
Leo threw open the large double doors outside the throne room himself, and the servants and guards could only gape as he marched towards his impending death wearing nothing but his expressionless countenance neither grim nor apprehensive. Unlike his mother, the guards didn't have to force him to kneel. Furthermore, he was still a prince, a higher station than them, and he had his dignity. Instead, he lowered himself almost humbly, stifling the resentment he felt simmering in the pits of his stomach, and knelt on the red carpet in front of the throne. “Father,” he greeted, his voice levelled and even.
There was no audience, only his older siblings and his baby sister, whose crystalline eyes watered with tears.
“Bite your tongue,” snapped the King. “I will not hear the words of a witchling even if you have my flesh and blood.”
Leo clenched his jaw, and his fists tightened.
“Close the doors,” the King demanded, narrowing his eyes at the guards and the servants. “I have made this explicitly clear that this is a family ordeal.”
With that, the servants and guardsmen dismissed themselves. The only remaining outsider was his father's advisor who eyed him with mirth and malice. Iago hadn't even bothered to contain his delight; finally, Leo mused, that damned advisor would be rid of him. Filthy rat, Leo thought. Iago himself was a sorcerer who excelled at witchcraft. The magic that clung to him was as dark and dirty as the bastard himself. He sold out others of his own kind to raise his standing with the king, no doubt wanting to run his fingers all over the throne and the crown and the entirety of Nohr.
One day, Leo vowed, the miserable rat would receive the punishment he deserved for all of his wrongdoing. One day, just as Leo was discovered, Iago's true nature would be unveiled. Either by justice or by his father's wrath, Iago would not be spared. Even King Garon would not grant his flesh and blood any mercy. Without lifting a finger, he could have slain Leo then and there.
“Strip,” the King ordered.
Leo hesitated for a second, and that was long enough for his father—no, his King—to growl at him, “Must I repeat myself, boy? Hurry and strip, I say!”
Leo's cheeks coloured with shame, and he tried his best to rise to his feet with as much poise and composure he could muster. He undid his knightly armour, having played the part of cavalier for far too long, and glanced towards his siblings. Having caught his eye, Camilla nodded once and reached for Elise, pressing their sister's face towards her middle, shielding her from witnessing Leo's undoing.
Leo knew that his father—the King, he corrected himself once more—would want to examine every inch of his body. It didn't matter if he showed him his star sign immediately. Leo undid his shirt and dropped it to the carpet. He unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his boots before slipping off his trousers. Turning to the side, he revealed to his father—his King, the King of Nohr, because of this moment, Leo was no longer his son—the bow shaped like the crescent moon and the arrow branded on the inside of his right thigh.
King Garon scowled.
“You are your mother's child through and through. I will not have you bring shame onto my family name,” he declared. “From now on, you will be at sea in search of land to colonise. If you starve to death or fall ill due to inefficient supplies or, by chance, get attacked by pirates, then it is indeed unfortunate. Is that understood?”
Leo gritted his teeth, grinding them together, before replying, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Dress yourself,” King Garon quipped, “and then leave for the port. I will have a ship readied by your arrival.”
Leo tugged on his trousers and slipped on his button shirt before stepping into his boots. He gathered his armour into his arms, thanking Xander quietly when his older brother began to help him, before following his siblings out of the throne room. The only sound that filled the empty halls was Elise's whimpering and sobbing.
“I don't want to you leave!” Elise choked out once they were a fair distance away from the throne room. She threw her arms around his neck, lifting herself off the floor, and he wrapped his arms around her waist to support the two of them. He could feel her tears dampening the fabric of his shirt, but still, he said nothing. “I don't want this to happen! Why do we have to kill all of the mages? They heal us and give us rain and sunshine and—and, they're not bad people!”
Leo knew not all of them were bad. He had spotted Elise's own star sign by accident once, hidden beneath the high collar of her dress that was typically secured by a pretty pink ribbon tied into an elegant bow. She was marked by the God of the Seas, the second of the water trigons, and Leo could only imagine her magical talents. She would have made an excellent healer.How she itched to save others, Leo mused, and how he itched to save her.
It was fortunate that Elise's mother wasn't a mage, not a known one, at least.
Leo could only stroke her hair and hold her close. “I know,” he replied, “but there is nothing I can do about this, Elise.” He couldn't endanger his siblings by staying here. “If I'm fortunate, then perhaps I will hit land, and maybe one day we'll meet again.” It was an empty promise, and he hated the bitter taste it left in his mouth. He would die on this voyage; of this, he knew. Leo would miss Elise and her smile and how her laughter would fill the halls for days. He would miss Camilla and her motherly nature, even her strange doting ways. He would even miss Xander. Despite having always felt overshadowed, Xander was a role model who served to inspire others, including Leo himself.
“Leo,” Xander addressed him once they managed to prise the sniffling Elise off the second prince. “I have something for you. Let us hurry to my chambers before we're discovered. No doubt Father will be keeping a close eye on our actions.”
With that, they sneaked off in the direction of Xander's suite, and after Xander scavenged through his trunk in search of whatever it was that he needed, he approached Leo with a large sack and a smaller pouch. “The castle has received word that there was a kindly knight who would fertilise their soil miraculously. Father had this matter investigated, and despite how carefully you've hidden your tracks, it was only a matter of time before they had you cornered… If Father is truly planning on sending you to sea with minimal supplies, I hoped that this would help you.”
Leo peeked into the sack and blinked. “Soil?”
“And seeds,” Xander answered. “I couldn't have given you much in means of supplies without arousing suspicion. I… I do not know much of your talents, and I feel as though I've failed you as your brother. This could have been prevented…”
“Do not fret, Brother,” Leo replied, wearing a half-smile only to reassure Xander. He himself had long ago resigned to his fate. “This is more than enough.” It would prolong death by starvation a few days. “I'm not much of a farmer, but I suppose there would be enough time to learn. Thank you.” He stiffened upon feeling Xander's arms circle around his shoulders in an awkward embrace. His older brother was not at all an affectionate person, but he supposed there was always time for an exception. Leo swallowed his tears. “I must go,” Leo said, “before Father becomes suspicious.”
“Godspeed, baby brother.”
“You might have been a sheltered little princeling back in Nohr, but here you're just as good as one of us,” grumbled the captain as he glowered at Leo.
They were all inmates on death's row, Leo recognised. He chuckled a bit at the thought; he himself was a criminal sentenced to death. He allowed himself a little smirk that appeared more of a sneer, and that was enough to drive another one of the former pirates to attack him. There was a hoot and a whistle as the motley crew reared with malice and mischief all the same. Leo skilfully evaded the attack and then flicked his wrist, sending his assailant toppling back with a blast of dark magic.
The noise stilled.
“Captain Shura is not, by the definition of Nohrian law, wrong in his statement,” Leo declared. The smirk lingered on his lips, held there by amusement. “I am a criminal who was supposed to be executed like the lot of you. I was convicted of practising witchcraft and sorcery, which means my weapon is not the sword I was trained to use.” He narrowed his eyes. “Even if you cut off my tongue, I will curse you and whoever is left of your family for generations and generations to come. You will never once rest well in peace within your grave at the bottom of this dark, uncharted sea, destined to be forgotten.”
At his words, he saw a few men step back, apprehension evident in their eyes.
Shura chuckled and remarked, “I think we'll get along mighty fine, Prince Leo.”
The smirk on his lips widened, expressing more of his amusement than his threat. “I believe it's simply 'Leo' now, Captain Shura.”
“Hey, lad, can you purify the salt water for us?” inquired a sailor as he barged into Leo's personal cabin. It was once Shura's, but after they've learnt that Leo could make more food for them grow out of the soil his brother had given him, the crew reached a consensus that the mage would need his own space to experiment. Not to mention, Leo burned too easily under the sun, and the sailors figured that spending all of their time laughing at the reddened former prince would be unproductive, especially since they were trying to survive until they hit land.
For now, they were only following the northern star and holding out.
“Sure, bring it over here,” Leo said without turning to face the sailor at the door. He stretched out a hand, and the sailor dropped the handle of the pail, lingering there until Leo curled his fingers around it.
Pulling his attention away from the plants, Leo set the pail on top of his workplace, clearing a space for it. He set a pot in the centre of the pail and covered the pail with an even larger lid, flipping it upside down. Using a simple fire spell, he warmed the water of the pail, bringing it to a low simmer, before the water began to evaporate and gather against the glass lid. The condensation began to drip slowly into the pot. Now aware that this process would take a while, the sailor left Leo to his work, and from experience, Leo knew that he would return within the hour.
The ship shook violently, and Leo nearly collapsed onto his side. Judging by the hurried footsteps, they hadn't simply hit a tidal wave. Abandoning the water for now, Leo shoved open his door and spotted an enemy ship flying the Nohrian flag.
His heart sank in disappointment.
Leo scowled, realising that his father—King, Leo corrected himself, as he had been disowned for nearly two weeks now—had no patience for them to run low on supplies. He likely didn't want them to chance upon discovering land either. Dammit, he cursed. He had wanted to defy his father for once in his life. He wanted to live in defiance of his father's command to die.
“This is the Royal Navy of Nohr! Surrender at once, pirate scum!” barked the commander. To his troops, he exclaimed, “Take no quarter!”
“To arms, men!” exclaimed Shura.
Leo lurched forward before the enemy could ram into their vessel and board their ship. Raising his arms, he unleashed a fiery blaze upon the masts of the opposing ship. It was a mistake for his father to have only sent one fleet after them; it was poor to underestimate him. Leo might not have made an excellent swordsman like Xander, but he was a mage—and a fairly decent one if he could say so himself. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a bolt of lightning upon the Nohrian ship, nearly splitting it in two, but it was enough to capsize it.
It wasn't over yet.
“Lad, look out!”
An arrow plunged into his shoulder, and Leo had no time to react to the sudden strike of pain surging through his shoulders, stinging his muscles, because he was already falling, falling, and falling into the deep, blue sea.
Leo broke past the water's surface and thought, even in the end, his father had gotten what he had wanted—Leo's death.