Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!

He sat alone in his chambers, moonlight spilling across the polished floor like silver ribbons, and for once, Leon let his mind wander—not to battle strategy or politics, but to the past.

The truth was… The throne was never meant for him.

Their kingdom had always been matriarchal. The bloodline passed through the women. The crown, the power, the legacy—it was supposed to be Catalina's. She was the firstborn. The prodigy. The one everyone knew would rule.

And he was just the baby brother.

He'd heard it all the time as a kid. "Our future Queen Catalina," they'd say, smiling. "And her sweet little brother." That was his role. The prince. The little lion cub trailing after them, looking for attention. And gods, did they give it to him.

All the women in his life—his mother, his aunts, his sisters—adored him. Coddled him. Let him get away with everything. He was the only boy in a household of powerful women. The golden child. The only son. He never had to fight for anything, because everything was just… Given.

And somewhere along the way, he started to believe he deserved it.

He remembered the day his father died. He was fifteen. Catalina had just turned eighteen and was already attending court meetings with their mother. The entire palace was dressed in black, the halls heavy with silence. And then, out of nowhere, his mother had announced—Leon will be king.

Just like that.

He hadn't asked for it. Not then. Not really. But he didn't protest either.

Catalina had looked at him like he was a stranger. There was no shouting at first. Just betrayal.

He had watched it unfold from the corner of the throne room. Catalina confronted their mother, voice trembling with rage and disbelief. Sofia swas tanding by her side, demanding an explanation. Celeste… His second sister, she did not stand by idly either.

She took Catalina's side. She told their mother what she was doing was unfair and frankly disgusting. His mother looked a bit hurt, but she quickly masked it with a stoic and calm expression.

Sofia... His third sister stood off to the side, hands folded in front of her, eyes hollow. She was grieving. She barely came to terms with the death of their father when their mother pulled this stunt. Who talks about succession the day their father died?!

To her, that day was not just about their father's death anymore, but the collapse of their family

And he… He had stood there and said nothing.

Because deep down, he did want it.

He didn't want the responsibility. But he wanted the recognition. The crown. The respect. The sense of being someone in a kingdom where he was always seen as "Catalina's baby brother."

And he got it.

At the cost of everything else.

He lost his sisters. He lost the warm family dinners. The inside jokes. The shared teasing. It all slipped through his fingers like sand. And still, he told himself he deserved it. That it was his destiny.

Even now, years later, he sometimes wondered how different things would've been if he had just said: "No. This isn't mine." But he didn't. And the regret stuck to his ribs like old scars.

Catalina never forgave him. Not for taking the throne. Not for standing there and letting it happen.

He remembered her words the last time they spoke before the war broke out. "You always were selfish, Leon. You never see anyone but yourself."

And she was right.

He was selfish.

Still was, if he was being honest. He waited for people to come to him. He waited for Riven to chase him, to choose him, to see him… But what had he done?

Absolutely nothing.

He had taken the love he received and offered none in return. He had expected loyalty without earning it. He had looked at people like they were pieces to arrange on a board, he was smart, sure, but not smart enough. Not smart enough to fully manipulate people, and definitely not smart enough to embrace the loneliness.

No wonder he lost them.

No wonder Riven walked away.

But… maybe it wasn't too late.

He wasn't the boy who stood silent in the throne room anymore. He wasn't the golden child in need of attention. He was a man who had made mistakes. A man who wanted to fix them—even if he didn't know how.

Maybe it started with a conversation.

Maybe it started with him reaching out.

He looked toward the empty corner of the room where his sisters used to sit during lazy afternoons. He could almost hear their laughter, their teasing voices, their light.

"I'm sorry," he whispered—not just to them, but to himself. For not speaking up. For not doing better.

But he would now.

He had to.

Because the world wasn't going to hand him love. Or forgiveness. Or Riven.

He had to earn it.

He was finally ready to get off the pedestal and fight—not as a king, but as Leon.

Leon paused at the threshold of his room. He was really going to do this... He was... He was... HE WAS! Leon tried his best to convince himself. Apologising was not something he was used to. And now he was trying to reach out, apologise, fix things.

No, he could not do this! At least not directly. He turned around and headed straight for his desk. Staring at the parchment sitting heavy in his grip, he realised he had a choice: stay stuck in guilt or try, even a little, to make it right. He was making the right choice.

Sofia. The sister who, at least for now, still spoke to him even if she'd followed Catalina's lead. Leon drew a breath and sat back at his desk, dipping his quill into ink. Carefully, he poured his heart onto the page. He owned up to his behaviour, apologised and asked them to meet him... Just once.

He wanted his family back.