Lost In Character: Transmigration Chronicles Of A Nameless Heroine 59 Hers

When one grows up under a figure who, right from the cradle, teaches you to believe their every word was law, there are countless ways one could turn out as an adult. These were two of the common ones that Leal knew something of: either one becomes a "doormat," free to be stepped on by nearly everyone else – or one becomes a rebel who refuses to be told by anyone what to do.

From past reflection, Leal recognized that he was not purely the first nor the second. As the only son of a king, he had every "right" to act like he was ent.i.tled to power, to automatic respect, and to so much more than what lesser beings deserved.

When he was inclined to, he could put on a show all day long that he was that person, especially back in his homeland. At times, even he believed that that was who he really was.

Here in this strange soil, where it was taken as a matter of course that women could hold as much authority as men, where stepping out of pre-drawn lines was frowned upon except when majority could agree there was a need for it, where even the common populace felt secure enough of their value to society that they could express their displeasure and have holders of power properly fear them for it, slowly but surely, Leal's pretensions along with his long-held views about the world were eroding.

This could not have been an accident. More and more, it was becoming apparent that even this was part of his father's designs, and frankly, he didn't know what to feel about it.

For over twenty years, he'd been raised to think he could only "become his true self" after his father dies. That he'd been thrown to a place where there were plenty of opportunities for him to discover who that "self" was, it seemed to Leal that King Madelon might not have been satisfied, after all, with who his son had been pretending to be.

They might have begun even earlier, these changes that had been taking place inside him, but it was during that moment when he realized, "Ah, here is a woman I might actually want to be with," that he first recognized it happening.

All his life, in all that he did or decided, he'd been subconsciously asking himself: what would his father think of it? And if there was a chance King Madelon would find something there to criticize, more often than not, Leal would drop the notion entirely.

Despite what his father might say about his personal choice for a bride, however, he'd been finding himself unwilling to back down.

If even that one voice of authority he cared to listen to had failed to scare him away from his pursuit, the father of a dead rival would not be able to do so either.

As Lord Alfwin attempted to stare him down and chase him off, Leal decided: he really didn't like being told what to do. He would – if and only when he must – but good G.o.d did he not like it.

"With respect, my Lord General," he replied pointedly to the man who was looking at him with every expectation of being listened to. "There is only one person with the right to ask me to 'cast my line elsewhere,' and she is not you."

Eyes like flints, the Lord continued to meet Leal's gaze in silence. Then, snorting, he broke the contact and faced forward.

"That's true," he said with easy, dismissive humor in his tone. "But what do I worry for? You stand no chance, anyway."
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At the well-aimed thrust, Leal had to struggle to keep his temper leashed. Refusing to be everyone's doormat was one thing, being touchy and giving immediate answer to every perceived insult was quite another. There was a time and place for everything, he believed, particularly if one was a prince in a foreign land whose protection now seemed to lie in the very hand holding that sharp, bloodied knife.

'I can't catch a break in this place,' he thought, silently seething. 'If only we were still Hilde's responsibility.'

At this, Leal hesitated for the briefest moment before brashly focusing the full force of his regard towards the actual person. In his steady gaze, he hoped to convey his straightforward intentions, to let her know once and for all that though she may not want them, his affections and his dreams of future happiness belonged to her.

How had he reached this certainty so quickly? In truth, even he would not be able to answer that with confidence. Perhaps it was not even real certainty he had, merely the illusion of it. But then, wasn't this how it usually went? In the ballads, in the bards' tales, unexpected and oftentimes unasked for, love would descend to thoroughly make fools of men.

In the endless seconds that pa.s.sed after Hilde turned as if she heard her name called, Leal saw in her pale, arresting eyes that flash of ire he'd come to adore. It was followed by confusion over what he meant by staring so intensely – was he asking for a fight?

Last of all came that same dread he first noted back in her sister's study. Her face had once again become so drained of color that she looked ill. Whatever she was seeing in Leal's eyes, it appeared that it still did not sit well with her. Farthest from it.

Swallowing his crus.h.i.+ng disappointment, he allowed his gaze to linger a moment longer before freeing her from its hateful sight.

A soft snort sounded beside him.

Even after he noticed from the corner of his vision that Hilde had begun approaching, he intended to avoid facing her directly again. But when she halted midway, clutching at her stomach, Leal couldn't help but slide at least his eyes sideways to better see what the matter was.

Employing his rusty skill of lip-reading, he was successful – if distractedly so – at learning that her stomach felt "hollow." He found that amusing despite his present state, and he was somehow not surprised.

He then watched as the Lord General's daughter whispered something to Hilde, and though Leal didn't manage to catch it in full, he caught enough to discover that the father and daughter pair effectively had him in a pincer attack.

Wasn't it odd that though he had next to no chance with the Princess, they were still trying to ensure he'd have even less?

'Why not spit on my ashes while they're at it?'

Despite his grievances, he felt considerably better after seeing the fleeting bloom over Hilde's cheeks at the other woman's misunderstanding. With all his being, Leal prayed for a day to come when he would be the one to put color on her face, not the opposite.

That thought was floating in his head when Hilde and her remaining companions reached him and the Lord. They dispensed with pleasantries, settling for wordless nods and salutes. He'd of course noted the presence of the black-armored Guard since before, but through that sense some men had when measuring one another, Leal was almost certain this one was not a threat.

As he temporarily set aside other concerns from his mind, he then recalled that this was the first time Hilde and Lord Alfwin were facing each other again since the events at the Royal Palace. Much to Leal's surprise – and to those who were of course paying close attention to the fresh unfolding of events, if not quite daring to approach – the Lord General opened the proceedings by saluting the Princess, right fist to chest.

Hilde hid her own surprise well, appearing to take it in stride as she said, "I've been told of most of what has happened." Her eyes s.h.i.+fted towards Leal and back again to the other man. "Of what the people have been saying. What else do I need to know, Lord General?"

Promptly, the man addressed answered, "Princess, the Queen Heloise has given you command of the situation."

This was news to the others in that small, private group, and even Leal who'd just been wis.h.i.+ng for it was stunned. Hilde's expression took on a stoniness that he was beginning to suspect hid some of her more extreme emotions.

Didn't another relative do something like this to her just that morning? But no, Lady Ilse at least had a functioning sense of proportion.

On the other hand, though she was no longer "untried," the sheer scale of this test on the Princess' still-underage shoulders was pure insanity.

"I've been charged to indicate," the Lord continued, "this is your 'next lesson' – and a chance for you to continue where you have left off." This time, it was he who sent a brief but telling look in Leal's direction.

Hilde did not follow the lead to look his way again. Instead, she released some of what she'd been bottling up by huffing. This day had been one of traps for her, left, right, and center.

Ah, but how could he help this feeling? It was probably for the best that she never finds out – for the moment, Leal was quite content that he had become Hilde's problem again.