Walk on a fine line

Summary: You were born a Leonora instead of a Leo. It displeased your mother. So she changed it. Born-a-girl!Leo. Gender ambiguity. Semi-AU

Disclaimer: Still not mine

Rated: T

Warnings: Manipulation, murder, gender ambiguity

Note: English is not my first language, and I'm not beta'ed. I apologize in advance for the spelling mistakes that likely escaped my vigilance.

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You knew, knew, taking Niles as your retainer was a mistake. You had functioning eyes after all. Niles' life, from his conception to that desastrous plan to steal from the royal tresor could be resumed as an incredible amount of unfortunate errors and awful decisions.

Niles himself was a mistake, and he knew it too well. You could relate to that, if reluctantly.

"Should I lead him to the dungeons, my Prince?" the guard asked you rethorically with a nod of genuine respect. You preened internally at the gesture. Respect born out of your rank, you were used to. But respect born out of your actions, now that was a fresh novelty.

Still high with adrenaline running in your veins, you assessed your prize skeptically. On his knees, gagged and bounded, the thief returned your stare with impassive, unimpressed, dead eyes. And it unsettled you.

You decided on a impulse. You never decided anything out on a whilm, your mother had beaten the compulsion out of you long ago. Well, your mother wasn't here anymore. "No. Leave us."

Both guard and prisonner stared at you with surprise. "Your Highness..."

You glared at the soldier, proud and regal. You might not look very impressive with your skinny eleven-years old body, but you had just taken down a full grown-man on your own. A malnourished, desesperate man but still, the point stood. And even if you hadn't, you stayed a prince of Nohr, born and raised as such.

The guard left without another word.

Your prisonner watched you approach with casual indifference. As if nothing mattered to him anymore. You would have expected fear, wraith, hate.

But nothing. Youloathed the sight. Such a careless indifference reminded you of Father.

The tip of your fingers fell on the dirty white hair, and you miraculously managed to stop your hand from shaking. You hadn't touched a man since the occasionnal brush your brother granted you. Xander had not hugged you since that day, and neither Elise, despite her intensely tactile disposition. Camilla had at first, embracing almost on a daily basis as if to compensate for years of mutual indifference. But eventually she had noticed how you avoided any form of physical contact, and held her impulses in check for your sake, as Elise did.

Which was good, obviously, but. But. You were only human after all. Because you couldn't allow yourself the proximity didn't meant you didn't craved for it.

Without much ceremony, you removed the gag from your thief's mouth. And waited.

"Well, aren't you going to say anything?" you finally said, exasperated with the silent glare contest.

His voice, low, gravelly and monocord almost surprised you. "Like what."

"I don't know. Beg for mercy perhaps?" At that point, they all begged. The thiefs, the rapists, the murderers.

"Oh my, you want me to beg?" he laughed, cruel and bitter. "Ain't you a bit young to be into that kinky shit, my prince?"

The blush crept on your cheeks and inbrased your skin without your consent. No one spoke to you about those things, but you understood the imply all right. "Fine, have it your way."

"Wait," he shook his head as you moved to put the gag back in place. "Kill me."

You froze, your hand still on his face. You could hear her voice still, whispering into your innocent ear. "Come on, silly boy. Life is war."

"What."

"You heard me. You got me, congrats, now you gotta finish the job."

No. Absolutly no. You didn't murder in cold blood disarmed people. That was what your mother did. Against your chest, your magical tome burned.

"Why would I do that?" You managed to ask with a tone of polite curiosity.

Instead of answering, the Nohrian looked at you. Truly looked, like no one really bothered. As if he could see you, all the you, the fears, the incertainties, the secret, and not only the cold-hearted second prince image most people stopped to.

Sometimes Camilla looked at you like that. It scared you shitless, her purple timeless orbs staring at you with affection and wonder and understanding.

But those eyes, the thief's eyes, of a surprisingly untainted blue, they enthralled you into a daring dance you weren't sure to be leading. "Have you seen public execution before, little Prince?"

You had. Even sweet Elise had, despite Camilla's protests. Father's orders. She had hidden her face into her older sister's skirts, but you had watched until the end. The walk of shame of a starving criminal, the humiliation the public put him through, the death without honour.

An ugly way to die. But the criminal had deserved it, just as your thief did. Didn't they?

"Very well," you said, your tone monocord and emotionless.

Your hands, sleek and white, reached for your knife, the very one Mother dearest had gifted to you so long ago. Just another proof you had never stopped carrying her sins and yours against your skin.

The blade glinted against the white-haired boy's neck. You had called him a man, because you didn't wanted to see otherwise, but really he couldn't have been older than eighteen. A broken boy staring at you on his knees with rage and hurt and an ocean of resignation burrying it all. You looked at him, really looked at him, and thought fuck it.

"From now on, the person you were is dead, and a new you is born. You will serve me, and I will take care of you. You will be my eyes, my ears, my hands, my will."

A bit thick on the drama side, but you liked to think the gravity of the moment called for it. He gaped at you, unbelieving, and you stared back. You silently rejoiced to get a reaction for this smirking wall of a man, at last.

"What the..?" and then he frowned and snarled. "I won't be your puppet, boy!"

"No," you agreed. "My retainer. Niles."

Niles. Nihil. Nothingness. It fit, somehow, you decided on a whim. You certainly worked on your impetuous side that day. You had no idea you even had one of those before.

You knew taking Niles as a retainer would likely turned out to be a mistake. First of all because allowing anyone close to you was by itself a risk. And mostly because Niles, the thief, the liar, the pervert, could in no way claim to be truthworthy, even less appropriate retainer material.

At the time however, you could not find yourself to care at all about those valid arguments. You had decided the thief, the liar, the pervert, the broken boy would be yours, and so he would be.

It might have been a mistake, but it was your mistake, and you would be damned before you let anyone take that from you. Especially the ghost of a long-dead bitch.

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"Really Leo?"

"Yes brother. Really."

"Of all men in Nohr, you had to choose this one!"

"I'm sorry about the inconveniance."

"You're...that's not the point. Are you absolutly sure, little brother?"

Pause. "No. But sometimes you have to do things you're not absolutly sure about. I've been told it's a major issue of life."

"...Fine. But I will be watching him very closely"

"I have no doubt."

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As far as you were concerned, you owned exactly two things to your father: your siblings, and Brynhildr. For the former no explainations were needed. About the later, you had never felt so proud than when your genitor and Lord had decided to hand you over one of the sacred weapon of their country. Brynhildr, the one who command trees in a land Nature itself had abandoned. It held less prestige than Sigrid, for sure, but it had been confided to you, the first magical tome you hadn't inherit from your mother.

Xander, Camilla, Elise, Corrin and Brynhildr. Nothing more, nothing less.

Needless to say you held little respect, and even less love for the man you allegatly owned your life to. You might refer to Garon as your king, but you would never consider your father the man who let his children slaughter each over and did nothing. Unlike Xander, who kept looking for the supposedly affectionate man Garon used to be instead of the cruel excuse for a human being you had always know.

"Father," you bowed nonethless in front of the Throne, your face blank as ever. "You asked for me?"

It had been quite a while since the King had requiered your presence specifically, ever since you had been granted Brynhildr actually, a few months ago. After all the task to represent the royal next generation usually fell on Xander's sturdy shouders, or occasionally Camilla's, while Elise and you had taken the habbit to remain in their shadows.

Which suited you just fine. The less people to pay any attention to you, the better.

Xander stood next to you, a strong but silent support at your side. His heated glare burned your cheek, and you heard the unsaid warning. 'Don't do anything stupid, foolish little brother.'

You promised nothing. Got to keep your big brother on his toes after all.

"Ah, Leo," Garon finally deigned to aknowledge your existence. Joy. "I heard of your...exploit with our little rat problem."

Refering to his own starving citizens, admittidly not the most upstanding ones, as rats. Typical.

"I only did my duty as a Prince of Nohr," you replied neutrally. 'The duty you have abandonned, Father', you added silently.

Standing next to the Throne, the new shooting star among your Father's usual crowd of sycophant, Iaga or some equally ridiculous partonym, snorted at you. Xander only had to scowl at his painted face for the mage to dropped his smug in fear. You smirked discretly at your brother's protectiveness. He could never help himself, could he? As if you had anything to fear of those good-for-nothing parodies of mages.

"Yes, yes," Garon dismissed your heartfelt display of patriotism to go straight to the point. "But I also heard you took that scum as your retainer, instead of leading him to the gallows as expected."

There came the delicate part. You could neither appear too submissive, or the Court would eat you alive, nor too arrogant to offend your quick to anger Father. "The man managed to fool the palace defense without much trouble. It seemed like a waiste of good ressources to me."

The painted councelor, apparently recovered from his fright of Xander, stared at you angrily. You had little doubt who exactly told the King about your private affairs. The sneaky bitch.

"Oh? You thought, didn't you? When did that happened?" your loving paternal laughed openly at you, followed by the mocking whispers of Court.

Next to you Xander gritted his teeth in outrage at your behalf and Camilla's sweet smile promised later retribution to anyone who would dare laugh too loud about your predictment. Sweet. Like you cared about any of their opinions. Although your father, despite his total indifference in your regard showed surprising knowlegde of your character. You had no idea he would have enough interest in you to know where to hit on your most prideful spot: your intelligence.

My, you could almost assume he cared. For shame.

As you kept silent and unmoved by the public humiliation, the King's mad hilarity died down as he leant down on his throne to stare right at you. That glint into his crazy eyes you liked not. "You don't have any other pearls of wisdom left to share with the class, boy?"

You almost had to physically refrain your caustic self from shruggling. Instead, you argued with your most respectful tone: "I did what I thought best for the kingdom as usual, Sire. I assumed the thief's talent might be put to good use for the glory of Nohr."

Bullshit, naturally, as Camilla's amused twisting mouth betrayed.

"Nonetheless, you took a life from us," Garon announced with his usual dramatic ways. "You shall give us a life back."

...What? You had no idea what he meant by that. Judging by the pale teint Camilla's fair face had turned into, it couldn't be all that good.

"Father," Xander spoke for the first time since the beginning of the confrontation. "Leo is only eleven."

Iago's condescending smirk turned positively feral at his King's answer.

"So? He's old enough to take decisions for the glory of Nohr, or so he claimed. Bring the prisoner."

And so you finally understood his point, as guards dragged a half-dead already looking man in the middle of the Throne Room under your growing panick. You had refused to kill earlier, so you shall kill now, in front of the whole court. For the glory of Nohr.

Everyone watched you, waiting for you to crack. Xander and Camilla with concern and indignation, the Court with morbid fascination, your father with sadistic contempt.

And the prisoner stared at you with abject resignation.

Everyone was watching you. You had no choice. Or so you told yourself afterwards. It did little to keep away the nighmares of a man perishing from your shaking hand under the crowd's delight.

For the glory of Norh indeed.

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Niles, despite everyone's skepticism including your own, took to his duty as a retainer like a duck to water. In his own very, very special way. Not that you had much experience about proper retainer behavior, but Niles' unique approach to devotion to his master couldn't be the norm, right? Right?

"Niles," you fought the urge to burry your head between your hand in a very unprincely manner or go die in the corner or something. "Shall I ask why one of our guest is gagged and bound into my study?"

The youngest son of Lord Riveron, a whining welp of little importance, but still. You could already picture sleepless nights trying to solve yet another diplomatic faux-pas. Marvellous. Just what you needed on this fine morning to start the day.

"My Lord!" the white-haired thief greeted you with his trademark leery smirk, unbothered by the compromising position he had been caught in. Unsurprisingly. "You are early. You should sleep more."

The noble frantically struggled in a faint hope to remove his choker and cords. No chance there, Niles was exceedingly good at restraining people. You tried not think about what it meant too closely, as you usually did concerning your retainer's particular talents.

"Niles," you repeated sternly with your 'Too Early For Your Bullshit' voice. "I'm certain there is a very good explanation for this and I'm ready to hear it. Now."

"Certainly my Lord," Niles pinched his most recent victim's cheek, who froze with horror at the contact. "Mister Riveron here expressed very outraging claims towards your Lordship in my presence. I was merely disciplining the brat out of his insolence. For his own sake."

At your raising eyebrow, the so called insolent brat whined in the gag with begging eye towards you. He couldn't be older than sixteen. You were not very impressed, and you told your overachieving servant so. "Niles, you can't kidnap everyone who looks at me the wrong way."

He might have to discipline the whole palace otherwise. You could hardly claim to any popularity price. Though knowing the sadistic bastard he might not even mind.

Niles' pout said 'well, I can try', but he settled for a more diplomatic approach, for once. "If my Lord says so."

"I do. Now release that poor boy will you?" And wasn't that rich, coming from an twelve year old?

Obediant when it pleased him, Niles dutifully removed the choker with a sigh, and they both waited for the storm.

"Your Highness!" the noble son cried out now that he was free from the gag. "My behaviour was utterly unforgivable, yet I must beg you to forgive me! I only have the most reverent respect for your Highness! I am aware of my own unworthness but please allow me to redeem myself to your eyes!"

You could stare in horror as your retainer smiled down at his victim like a satisfied cat. "And?"

"And your retainer was right to show me the error of my ways," Riveron added with a terrified shudder.

The thief patted the noble's head as you realized only now with not short amount of horror that 'Holy shit, that display was actually Niles' honest-to-God attempt for cheer you up.' Dear Dusk, that guy was seriously messed up. You already knew of course, but...wow.

"It's alright," you eventually managed to answer, bemused. "I...forgive you. You may go now."

At your order, Niles finally freed the terrified boy, who all but bolted out of the room, but not without at least two ridiculously low bows at your adress. Your retainer truly unbodied the word 'overkill.'

"Niles, honestly," you frowned as soon as you were alone with your self-congratulating servant. "What if he tells his father?"

You weren't too worried, Lord Riveron was only a minor noble, but still. Iago would all but leap at the tiniest chance to make your life hell. You already saw the groveling and paperwork. So. Much. Paperwork.

"Oh, he won't," Niles laughed darkly. "I know what he likes to do when he go to the whorehouse. Let's just say it don't always involve ladies."

And now blackmail. Typical. "You're an awful, awful person."

"I try," he shruggled with false modesty. "My Lord Leo is too nice."

So you had been told before.

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"So, I heard you got yourself a retainer. Congratulations!" Corrin sat next to him with an eager smile on his stupid face.

You rolled your eyes like the moody child you rarely let you act as. "Yes, I'm sure you heard plenty of things about Niles."

His retainer's discutable past alone would have been enough to fuel Krakenburgh gossip mill for a few months. Add to that Niles' well earned reputation as a pervert, his total disrespect to any form authority aside from Leo's, and on smaller scale Xander's and Camilla's, and his bablant lack of morality and standing, and you would get a scandal huge enough to reach even Corrin's isolated Forteress.

Niles, of course, was delighted by his reputation. You only had yourself to blame for your predicament. You could have chosen a normal retainer, like Xander's, but noooo. You had to choose the one who would attract the most attention, and revealed in the awful rumors that followed him.

But the truth was, you never truly regretted your choice, even with the sacrifices you had to make or the problems he brought to you. The unwavering loyalty make the trouble worth it.

And then came puberty.