The heat of the friction wrought floor beneath his feet had once been discomfort. Leo had still been excited.
Now it was home.
And Leo could feel the weight that came with it.
The Alleys look after their own.
It was a saying he had first heard the previous Queen say to a man stuttering his thanks.
Leo had thought it sweet and warm then, in the blush of his childhood. He would only later know how deep such a saying's roots ran.
He would understand, and he would relay those same words, over and over, to his subjects that were once his mould.
The time it had first been said to Leo had been unexpected. It had not been the reassuring, sweet and warm emotion that Leo had thought the Queen had meant to relay to the man. It meant responsibility, duty and its weight. So much more than Leo could have thought.
A young girl had been looking up at him with tear stained eyes in front of a burning hut.
The Alleys look after their own, right?
Get my mother out of there!!
There had been no indecision. Leo had gone into the cottage harrowed with smoke and ash and fire and the little girl had gotten her mom back. He understood the line's meaning in the reflection that came afterwards.
You would do anything for your own.
And who were your own?
Those whom you considered as so.
The little girl had been nothing to Leo. Until she was. Until he realised he didn't want to see anyone cry and plead like that again.
He was more cautious afterward, and more often than not he'd find his eyes straying from the illusioned path his father had laid for him in his alley walks. He'd see the suffering of the people. He'd see their shoulders sag. And he'd see to it that they smile.
Sometimes he was successful. Other times he wasn't, and he learned from it. No, you couldn't levitate these sacs if you didn't have magic. No, there weren't enough blankets for everyone. Yes, ale did the trick.
He soon realised that to him the alleys had become his family. He knew each and every one of them like he would a friend— Frein, the tinkerer who would put Dedalus to shame with the sheer practicality of his innovations, Amilda, the lady who kept harmony in the Alleys with her smooth words, bright mind, and kind heart.
He understood them too. (sometimes better than he understood his dad and what he saw in the politics of the guild).
Leo could bring a smile to Miss Fairfield's face on a gloomy day, could set up Mr. Swiftknife's shop with him and ease some of his burdens, could proudly direct injured friends to his mother’s clinic.
Leo was happy.
The thing was, no child could remain innocent in the alleys for long.
And Leo soon knew the night to the day, the flaws to the wholesome system, too.
And when he saw opportunities, he seized them.
If politics and freedueling and strength are what decide who chooses for the betterment of the alleys, I'll ace them all.
People always had ambitions. It was how much those ambitions meant to them, and how much they acted on it that counted.
Leo's ambition was to take care of this family of his.
And every drop of sweat that he shed and every tired breath he exhaled while his peers enjoyed their childhood was proof of his commitment.
It wasn’t to say Leo didn't enjoy the learning that came with prepping to be king.
He found the way his body slowly learned to react to every move of his opponent exhilarating. He found the inner workings of the alleys intriguing just as they were eye-opening. And he enjoyed knowing that he was a step closer to his dream.
And what do you know: when the King fell, it was to him.
Leo became the youngest King of the alleys in history. And, it was agreed, one of the most loved.
I love you all too, He would think as his eyes swept over them, So much it throbs.