Arlott sat down across from him.
For a man who was, on any given day, one of the strongest rankers on the continent and a direct descendant of the legendary hero, he currently looked very much like neither of those things.
He looked like a father.
A father currently being scolded by his eight year old son.
"Dad," Leon said. Voice level. Too level. "You went without my consent."
"I—"
"To arrange my engagement."
"Leon—"
"Without telling me. At all. I found out from Lena. In the middle of a ballroom. While some girl I've never met in my life walked up to me and told me she hates me."
Arlott opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"I know you meant well," Leon continued, and that was somehow worse than if he'd just kept shouting, because his voice had dropped into something quieter, steadier. "I know this was supposed to help me. Set something up for my future, give me some kind of standing, I get it. I do."
He looked at his father directly.
"But I don't need you to fix my future for me. I can handle myself. I've always been able to handle myself, you know this better than anyone." He paused. "And now all this does is complicate things. There's a girl out there who already hates me before we even met, there's apparently a whole story going around about how this came about, and I have to deal with all of it now. Because of something I never agreed to."
"I wanted to carve my own path," Leon said simply. "That's all."
The table was quiet.
Arlott looked at his son.
There was always something about these conversations with Leon that made Arlott forget, briefly, that he was talking to an eight year old. The words. The tone. The way he laid things out so plainly, without theatrics, without the usual outbursts a child his age might have. It wasn't anger exactly, even though it clearly was anger. It was something calmer underneath it. Something that sounded like it had already thought this through three times before saying it once.
Arlott nodded slowly.
"You're right," he said.
Leon blinked, slightly thrown by the lack of resistance.
"You are," Arlott said. He rubbed the back of his neck, something he rarely did. "I should have told you. I had my reasons for not waiting, but that doesn't mean it was the right call."
He met Leon's eyes.
"But you'll be fine " he said.
…
As the music started, the dancing began.
Children from noble houses paired off across the floor, an elaborate dance of names and bloodlines disguised as something lighter. This was, after all, half the point of the ball. Connections. Impressions. The kind of thing that mattered far more to the parents watching than to the kids actually dancing.
Leon sat through most of it lost in his own thoughts, still turning over the conversation with his father, still mildly irritated about the whole engagement business even if Arlott had apologized.
That was when a boy approached their table.
He had the kind of walk that announced itself before he even said anything, chin slightly raised, a smirk already in place.
Arlott had a huge grin in his face as he stood almost immediately.
"I'll leave you two to handle this," he said, already walking away with the particular speed of a man escaping something.
"Handle what—" Leon started.
The boy reached the table and stopped in front of Lena, ignoring Leon entirely like a he was air.
"It's an honor to meet you, Lena Silford," he said, like he was announcing a title. "I am Reinholt Castellan, third son of House Castellan, holders of the eastern trade routes." He extended a hand toward her, smooth, practiced. "Would you honor me with a dance?"
Yuki's mouth twitched.
Leon glanced at her. She glanced back. Without a word, the two of them shifted slightly away from the table, Leon grabbing a small plate of chips on the way, and settled in to watch.
"This should be good," Leon murmured.
"Mm," Yuki agreed, already smiling.
Lena looked at the offered hand. Then at Reinholt. Then, with the kind of polite warmth that somehow made the rejection land harder, she said:
"That's very kind of you, but I'll have to decline. Thank you though."
Reinholt's smile froze.
"...Decline?"
"Yes," Lena said pleasantly.
That was the moment Yuki lost it.
She tried to hold it in, she really did, but it came out anyway, a short sharp laugh that she immediately tried to disguise as a cough and failed completely.
Reinholt's face went red.
"You—" he started, turning toward Yuki, clearly trying to figure out who exactly this beastfolk thought she was, laughing at him in front of everyone.
"I think," Lena said, before he could finish, still polite, still smiling, "you should probably head back to your seat now."
It wasn't loud. It wasn't even particularly sharp. But something about the way she said it left absolutely no room for argument.
Reinholt opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked around at the small audience that had quietly formed nearby, all of whom were doing a very poor job of pretending they hadn't seen any of this.
He turned and walked away, stiff backed, ears burning.
The moment he was out of earshot, Leon and Yuki both broke down at the same time, Leon nearly choking on a chip, Yuki holding her sides.
"Did you see his face," Leon managed.
"This has got to be one fo the most humiliating things I've seen today," Yuki said.
Lena pouted at both of them. "It's not funny."
"It's a little funny," Leon said.
"It's very funny," Yuki corrected.
Their laughter cut off almost immediately.
Because another figure was approaching.
Blonde hair. That same smug expression from earlier.
Cedric.