Chapter Text
Leona crashed into the walls as he dashed through the halls. The servants cleared his way, letting him pass without a problem. Even the knights stationed by the grand entrance don’t budge.
It poured outside, drenching the young man as he rushed past the hedges and into the gate. He pushed through it with his arms shielding his head.
His legs kicked off the ground, persistently dragging him further and further away from his cage. His arms swung by his side as the smell of rain filled his lungs. His horse conveniently runs by his side, scratched and slashed by the forest’s grasp.
Leona takes his stallion by the reins and jumps on. They make haste together.
Until they hear a howl from afar.
Then another. And another.
A wolf lunged at him but he dodged in time. They weaved through the course of fallen trees and jumped over thorny shrubs, hoping to lose those hungry claws and snaring teeth.
But there’s too many pairs of eyes to count, starving for a piece of lion and horse.
Leona rides only to be cornered to the edge of a cliff.
He stared at the fall below him, a pebble slightly pushed by his horse’s hoof fell. Its impact on the ground was buried by the sound of heavy rain. He returned to stare at the drooling jaws of the wolves.
Leona landed on his feet. He gritted his teeth and bared his own claws, his horse sandwiched between him, the wolves and a cliff.
Another wolf charges at him, Leona ducks under it to throw it off the edge. Yet another lunged at him, he managed to dodge and weave but with each set of jaws he managed to escape - another would show.
Until lightning struck, highlighting the figure of Malleus Draconia sprinting through the sea of predators.
What a ------- idiot. Does he really need to do all of that?
Those blackened claws rip wolves off the grass; tossing them aside with ease. He roared, sending shivers down the spines of any thinking creature. Leona wondered if he could pass through the wolves now that Draconia was fending them off.
A wolf began to retreat then another and another, gradually but soon none remained.
The young prince looked back at Leona. It was hard to discern his expression through his padded face.
He let out a groan and blocked a bleeding wound with his hand, beginning to limp back to the castle. It’s a pitiful sight, but Leona turned his back and got on his horse. He has a pretty solid idea of the route back home - yet he looked back too.
He pursed his lips as he watched Malleus collapse. His chest still rose and fell, indicating some form of life under that plated skin. Leona groaned and buried his head in his hands.
The young man ambled back to the castle with the young prince resting on his horse.
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“Crown Prince Malleus will continue his studies at Castle Wildrose.” His grandmother had declared, her voice had long grown quiet since the passing of her daughter.
There was outcry from the senate, complaining about how the heir to the throne shouldn’t be so far from the capital or the queen. There was outcry from his citizens, as they still remembered their beloved princess. There was outcry from the prince’s retainers, for even they were caught off-guard.
Yet the Crown Prince didn’t budge, he sat unfazed in his throne during the queen’s proclamation.
Although deep in his heart, he wondered if he was being tossed aside.
Even his own grandmother, his only family, had abandoned him too.
Malleus jolted awake from a sharp pain. He scanned the room, noticing that he was carried to a sitting room.
He had been sleeping on a plush recliner with a certain figure by his side. That sun-rusted hair draped over the back of the furniture while those verdant eyes drank in a book by the fireplace’s glow. If Malleus was any more dragon, he’d steal Leona from the world in that moment for who could resist a beauty more valuable than gold and breath-taking than death?
“Kingscholar?” The young prince blinked slowly, scared this dream would be gone.
“Yes, I’m disappointed too.” He yawned while closing his book.
Malleus noticed his disheveled hair and somewhat shaken posture. His eyes dragged to the cloth and bucket of water on the floor, then to Leona’s damp hands drying on the hem on his shirt. His heart swelled even more than he knew it could.
“Did you…” His words seemed to pull themselves out like pearls on a string, “Did you try to clean my wounds?”
The lion-like prince stayed silent for his pride. He couldn’t admit to being on his knees, trudging for a bucket of water and hesitating with a wet cloth over Malleus’ slashed scales. He held his book over his face, acting as a shield between him and the world - hoping to get lost in the inked words rather than those peering eyes.
His stare lingered upon him for a moment longer, until he realised the futility of an answer from Leona’s ego. He shook his head before sitting up, wincing at the wound in between his ribs.
Yet the moment his eyes strayed off the bloodied bandages, Leona had already pounced to his side.
He could only see the tousled back of Leona’s head. Where were those verdant eyes? The ones that persisted in staring right through him?
“...Thank you.” A gruff whisper reached the young prince’s ears.
A sensation bloomed in Malleus’ chest, it rose to his face and dragged the dents of his mouth up.
“Pardon?”
“I knew you had half a mind the moment you imprisoned me but now I know you have less from fighting a pack of wolves.” Leona huffed, his eyes darting away while his hands slyly inched towards the dampened towel on the floor.
Leona Kingscholar, who held his nose in the air from practically sun-up to sun-down, kneeled by Malleus’s side.
He soaked the towel in the bucket. Malleus observed the hands wringing the cloth dry. There was a noticeable lack of callouses on his palms while those long fingers dug into the fabric. His claws were kept hidden as he wrung the fabric. It dripped its excess back into the bucket.
A small part of his heart desired his thickened curse to run under the palms of Leona’s hands. A louder part of his mind craved to see those hands claw at bed sheets in a moonlit room - maybe they’ll stretch and yawn in the morning too. The young prince found his mind racing with images of his own face being traced under the pads of slim fingers and interlacing them with his own claws.
The freezing flash from the cloth reeled him back. His claws extended involuntarily, stabbing through the couch.
Malleus jolted back. Leona brought the cloth back to the edges of the bloodied wound.
“That hurts!” He roared, his voice billowed through Leona’s hair- nearly throwing the young man back.
Then he made himself smaller, “Oh, forgive me. I don’t know what came over me-”
“If you just stay still then I can clean it.” Leona chided, holding the writhing prince still.
The cloth was cold from the water. It stung. Malleus dug his claws into the plushness of his seat, piercing its skin.
“This all happened since you decided to run away.” He groaned through gritted teeth.
“I wouldn’t have run if you didn’t frighten me.”
“Frighten you?” Malleus chuckled until he met Leona’s grimace. Even now, those aiding hands shook near him. How can the prince expect to be loved when it seems he can only create fear?
He cleared his throat, “Well, if you just stayed with me for dinner. This would have ended much more nicely-”
“Oh yes, enjoy my eternal imprisonment in your castle for your troublesome loneliness. I’d rather see those wolves again than have dinner with you then.”
“Well maybe I should just leave you to those wolves. Maybe it was a better choice to watch you be eaten alive!”
Those ears flattened over his head again. There was an odd pang of guilt clenching Malleus’ heart once more- after seeing Leona shrink back.
Leona was always quick to run away, to give up like he always did when things got too difficult. He ran away from his family. He ran away from his sun-adorned lands. He ran away from himself.
The young man sighed. He started his retreat. It was clear to him that he was unwanted here.
“There’s no point in me even doing this-” Leona threw in the towel.
He watched as it sank in a bucket that was carried up an unnecessary amount of stairs from a well that was extremely inconvenient to get to. The young man exhaled rather loudly then got up.
He could’ve been walking out the door, if not for a certain prince’s grip on his wrist.
Those blackened claws held on too tightly, like an inexperienced angler on a reel. Those chartreuse eyes peered up at Leona. The lips of the castle’s prince aligned so closely to the outline of Leona’s hip.
Malleus relaxed his hand. His fingers stayed attached, attempting a gentleness yet unable to disobey such unwavering desires.
But Leona still desired his freedom. Thus the cursed prince must abandon his grip fully.
“Why are you always leaving me?” He asked in a small voice.
There was a lack of hatred in the room that night. The fire crackled, illuminating half of their faces in a golden glow. You would’ve been able to hear chirping echos from the crickets outside.
“Why…” There were strange glints of light reflected off the bottom of his eyes. They were caught by his lashes then burst from a flutter. Leaving trails down his scale speckled cheeks.
His own tongue tripped and fell behind his own teeth, for Leona himself couldn’t grapple with a quick retort or a witty remark. Leona, as prideful as he was, found his skin uncomfortably filthy while watching Malleus cry.
It had simply never occurred to him how much the Beast had come to resemble a person.
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The name Kingscholar has grown into a burden to Leona.
But there was a time when his eyes were so full of stardust whenever he saw portraits of his family. Portraits of his father’s father and his father before him. He was so proud to be his son. He was a child who was proud to be born a Kingscholar.
They would be painted so regally, their names would be embellished in golden plates and inked pages. Their deeds would be retold over and over by a dear chamberlain. He would fill his fluffed ears every night with their stories, as grandiose as the stars themselves.
But little Leona was so blind.
He realised how blind he truly was when the mutters of the servants drowned him. Their disdain for his lack of magic and his place as second to the throne. If magic was a gift from the heavens then that was why his brother would be born more blessed than he. For he would be king regardless and there was a place for a king with magic rather than a second prince with magic.
He realised how futile his fate was the moment he was shunned and pushed away. He was never a priority in anybody’s eyes. His achievements would never hold much value even if he won every competition and every match. Eventually there was simply no point in bothering anybody. After all, his mother stopped asking for him and his brother was too tired to play with him. His father had grown sickly. It was nobler to care for a sickly man than a spoiled child - Leona himself couldn’t find any flaws with those ethics. Yet for all his logic and intellect even as a child, it still hurt to hear those footsteps rush past his door.
He realised how cruel the world was while he slumbered. His dreams no longer reassured him after he had passed that childish phase. How every birthday passed by was more forgotten than the last. Every steamer and falling piece of confetti was part of a mask for a unified family. Yet he soon realised how cruel he had grown. For he was a prince wallowing in his sorrow, each passing day merged into the next as he slept through his self-centered loathing.
Leona was reassured how corroded he was the moment he met his nephew.
He was weak and puny. He was so so small. So very small indeed. Leona’s heart jumped when he yawned. In his arms. He was wrinkled and pink and had a faint haze of fur. His mouth formed a small oval and his tongue was still stained with his mother’s milk. He was his nephew, he was his family. He was a baby, still cold from leaving his mother’s womb. And the only thoughts that ran through Leona’s mind was how to get rid of it.
There are no words that Leona knows that could even begin to describe the depths of his disgust. There are no medical conditions that could excuse those defiled thoughts. There was truly no fate for the second-prince for he now believed that he deserved to be replaced.
What was the point of attending his nephew’s ceremony? Leona couldn’t remember what it was even for.
It didn’t matter because by the time they flecked fireworks into the sky, he would already start his journey. He watched from his ship, it didn’t matter whether it was inconspicuous or not - there was no place for him already.
Leona can’t help but watch the sun rise and fall. It wasn’t the same one as home. He knew. But still his heart missed the constant beating from the wildebeests' travels and the mosaiced skies of migrating birds. He missed the smell of the wet season, after the rain paraded the streets outside his bedroom window. He also missed the dry winds that ran through his hair, filling his lungs and caressing his neck. He was separated by time and space.
From his family. From his home.
Yet Prince Leona had stopped pitying himself the moment he stepped aboard that ship.