Chapter Text
Being Leona’s attendant wasn’t exactly what Ruggie would call a glamorous job.
Ruggie didn’t love every part of it. There were the good bits, sure. He got to eat better than he ever had back home, he made quick money selling off the things Leona didn’t want, and, well, when it came down to it, there were worse people to spend his days following around than Leona Kingscholar.
But he couldn’t lie. Some parts of the job, no matter which way he put it, were just plain boring.
Sorting through the second prince’s mail was one of them.
Every morning, it was the same routine, so engrained it felt like muscle memory at this point — he’d get out of bed bright and early, get breakfast from the cafeteria, wake Leona and hand him his breakfast, and head off to the mail room to confront the worst part of his day.
Okay, he was being dramatic, but really, it was kind of ridiculous just how many letters Leona got on a daily basis. Updates from the palace, invitations to functions with names so long and complicated that Ruggie couldn’t even pronounce them if he tried, even letters from people who apparently believed that writing URGENT across the front of an envelope would somehow convince Leona give a shit.
When he’d first started, he hadn’t been sure which to pass to Leona and which to shred and never spare another glance at, but it hadn’t taken him long to get the hang of it, and now, he was pretty much an expert.
That didn’t change the fact that it still was boring as hell.
That would all change, however, on the morning after Leona’s eighteen birthday. The second prince had been even more unwilling to part with his bed, courtesy of the rowdy party and drinks that had gone on till the early hours of the morning, so by the time Ruggie got to the mail room, he wasn’t in the best mood.
He was still quietly grumbling under his breath about Leona’s stubbornness when he found it — a letter with an unfamiliar crest pressed into the wax.
For a moment, he just frowned, turning it this way and that, but nothing about its appearance clued him into its origin.
“Huh.”
Well, for envelopes like that, the standard procedure was simple— he slit it open without a second thought.
There were two thick sheets of cream-colored paper inside, expensive enough that Ruggie immediately felt like he ought to be wearing gloves.
There was also a photograph.
No — portrait.
A young Beastwoman stared back at him. She was clearly of noble lineage, dressed in an elaborate green gown, with her dark hair pinned neatly behind her ears. She looked pretty and confident, like nothing had or could ever ruffle her.
Ruggie looked at the accompanying papers.
On one, a typewritten profile. Age. Family. Education. Personality. The details were listed briefly and matter-of-factly, but they were impressive — she’d studied diplomacy and three foreign languages, as well as a variety of performing arts.
The other was a handwritten letter. In neat, elegant script, it wrote:
It is with great honour that I submit my daughter’s name for consideration as a potential partner to His Highness, Prince Leona Kingscholar of Sunset Savanna…
Ruggie stopped reading.
Oh.
Oh.
He looked back at the portrait.
The young woman — Elena Rubenmaw, the profile had said — looked at him, her gaze unflinching.
Right.
Of course.
Leona had just turned eighteen. In the eyes of the nobility, that was a marriageable age. And he was a prince — an unimaginably valuable match, even if he was not the next in line to the throne. Of course he’d start getting engagement offers.
It wasn’t exactly a surprise. Even though he was just a lowly slum cat, he’d still remembered how much of a stir Falena had caused years ago when he chose to get engaged the non-conventional way — on his eighteenth birthday, the king had preemptively rejected all offers of marriage by proposing to Sarabi at his party.
So it wasn’t surprising. Not really.
Ruggie swallowed the sudden surge of bitter acid rising in his throat as he stared at the letter.
Potential partner. Advantageous match. Fruitful union.
The words slid right down his spine like a chill. Abruptly, he had the violent urge to vomit.
Biting his lip, he folded the pages back into the envelope. His hands, he noted distantly, were shaking.
This was a letter that warranted Leona’s attention. Ruggie knew that. Because, well, this… this sort of thing was important, was it not? Leona could resent his royal obligations all he wanted, but marriage wasn’t the sort of thing he could avoid forever.
Ruggie knew that.
So why was his hand moving, of its own accord, to stuff the letter into his pocket?
His stomach twisted uncomfortably.
It was just one letter.
And…and Leona was still recovering from the party, was he not? Knowing him, he’d probably snap at Ruggie for pestering him with royal business so soon.
Yeah. Yeah, that was it.
He’d give it to Leona later.
The next day, there were ten.
Ruggie stared at them for a long moment before picking them up.
That same discomforting nausea was rising in his throat, but he ignored it. Instead, he carefully slit each one open.
Daughters of powerful noble houses, with land bordering the royal territory. Young men from wealthy merchant families. Even offers from aristocrats from halfway across the globe. All of them were faultless: accomplished, well-educated, well-kempt and attractive, and—most importantly—suitable matches for a prince.
Perfect, in other words, for Leona.
God, what was with this stupid nausea? Was he seriously getting sick now?
He shoved the letters into his pocket.
Leona didn't notice.
Of course he didn't.
“Mail?” The second prince cracked an eye open from where he was sprawled across the couch.
Ruggie tossed the stack onto the table. “Mmhm. Nothin’ much today.”
Leona hummed in acknowledgement, and went back to sleep.
And that was that.
Ruggie tried to pretend that the awful clawing in his chest wasn’t guilt.
It was like the floodgates had been opened. Day after day, letters came and didn’t stop coming.
Noble families. Old money families. New money families. It was like anyone with even a shred of status was trying their luck.
Ruggie read through them all. He didn’t know why, but he found himself pouring over them almost obsessively, like he was trying to prove something to himself.
Every letter had the same basic format — a profile, sometimes with detailed accolades highlighted, a portrait, and an offer.
Some were painfully formal. Others, almost embarrassingly eager. One mother had written several pages about her child’s countless virtues before finally getting around to the point.
Ruggie was quickly running out of places to hide them. There were now letters beneath his mattress, letters in his closet. He even tucked a few inside old textbooks.
He told himself he would give them to Leona tomorrow.
Except tomorrow would come, and Ruggie would walk into Leona’s room with the usual stack of mail — proposal-free.
And every time Leona accepted the mail without question, Ruggie felt that little twist of guilt.
It was stupid. Hyenas didn't feel guilty.
And c'mon, it wasn't like he was destroying the letters, or anything.
He was just... not giving them to him.
There was a difference.
Probably.
“Ruggie.”
“Hm?”
Leona was looking at him strangely.
“What’s up with you?”
Ruggie blinked.
“Nothin’.”
Leona stared at him for another second. “Hm.” He didn’t look convinced.
Ruggie's mind scrambled for a quick distraction. His gaze fell to the plate between them. “...Eat your veggies.”
Leona growled, but there was no heat in it. “You’re gettin’ bold, little scavenger. Tellin' me what to do?”
Despite himself, Ruggie grinned. “Whatcha gonna do 'bout it, boss?”
Leona just grunted and flicked him on his forehead. The moment was light and familiar, and if Ruggie didn’t know any better, he’d almost call it playful.
Then, almost as though to spite him, he remembered the letters.
His grin faltered.
In a way, weren’t they a reminder that whatever was between him and Leona — a contract, a friendship, something in between — wasn’t built to last?
Someday, when Leona finally got his shit together, he’d graduate from Night Raven College, whether he liked it or not, and return to Sunset Savanna. He’d settle into his place in the royal family, take on the life that had always been meant for him. Maybe someday he’d have the world, just like he’d been dreaming about. Or maybe he wouldn’t.
But Ruggie wouldn’t be there to see it. No, his place had never been next to Leona, not in the way someone in those letters could be.
He was a slum cat. A dirty scavenger. Someone who was using Leona, just as much as Leona was using him.
…Would Leona hate him for hiding the letters from him? The thought struck him so suddenly that it was almost painful.
Maybe he would. Maybe Leona’s soulmate was amongst those offers, and he just didn’t know it yet — all because of Ruggie’s selfishness.
Because, loathe as he was to admit it, he hadn't been hiding those letters away out of a misplaced belief that Leona would be better off not seeing them. No, if that was the case, he'd have shredded them himself.
The truth was, he was just trying to delay an inevitable end. He didn’t want Leona to read them, because... because he might find someone he actually liked amongst the countless offers. It was very likely — there were just so many, and they were all outstanding in their own way. And that might just be the beginning of the end of it all. Perhaps he'd meet that someone and, for once in his life, be given a reason to care, really care, about his royal duties.
Maybe he'd be convinced that graduation wasn't so bad, after all.
And Ruggie... Ruggie didn't want that. He didn’t want Leona to leave Night Raven College. He didn’t want Leona to go off and marry someone respectable, someone who knew how to carry themselves in court, someone the royal family would approve of.
Leona had been one of the only people who had taken him and his ambitions seriously. Who had, in his own strange, awkward way, cared.
And that could all crumble into sand in an instant if — no, when Leona read those letters. Because he had to pass them to Leona eventually, didn't he? That was his job.
It was almost summer, but for some reason, there was a chill in the cafeteria, one so deep that it made his very bones shiver.
Ruggie stood abruptly, as though the action could chase away the thoughts that were threatening to overtake his mind.
Leona raised a questioning eyebrow at him.
“Sorry, Leona-san. Just remembered I have something to do.” The smile that appeared on his face was near-automatic. Leona nodded, but he didn’t look happy about it.
“Don’t take too long. I’m not carrying my own books to History of Magic.” The second prince drawled, crossing his arms.
Ruggie laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”
And then he was off.
He didn’t see Leona watching him leave, his expression thoughtful.