Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The sun was burning him. Shouto couldn't think. He focused on the target at the end of the archery field. The Great Sea sparkled behind him, an infinite stretch of blue diamonds. Waves licked the bottom of the impressive cliff their castle was built on. Seagulls screeched above their heads.

A bead of sweat rolled down his face. He ignored the pain in his burning fingers. He ignored the watchful eyes of his knights standing guard around the field and the distant clapping of a horse's hooves as Fuyumi enjoyed their arena at the entrance of the middle bailey.

There.

The string snapped out of his fingers, the flick powerful. Shouto dashed while the arrow whistled in the air. It pierced the center of the target. He tore it out, notched the arrow as he swirled around—

A clay disk flew into the air, thrown by Iida's powerful arm. It shattered, the arrow whistling behind the tall rampart. It fell somewhere in the orchard that went down the harsh hill leading to the capital city. Hopefully it landed on a tree, and not on a servant.

"Excellent work, your Highness!!" Iida applauded, his heavy helmet wedged under his arm.

The royal guard took his role very seriously, but behind the castle's rampart, the risk of Shouto being attacked was close to zero. So he allowed himself to breathe outside of his armor when the weather was too hot.

"You might be able to shoot three arrows in less than a second next time," Yaoyorozu said with a shy smile.

Mineta was too busy ogling her half-naked body to comment. Yaoyorozu was a paladin, meaning a knight who'd studied and mastered magic. The source of magic she had bonded with gifted her the power to create objects out of her body, among other things, hence the necessity to wear as little as possible.

Jirou, however, didn't miss the occasion to give her opinion. "Why would you waste your time with archery when you've been blessed by the Light?"

"One should not rely on the Light's power only!" Iida reminded her. "Excellence comes from the mastery of all fighting skills and the cultivation of one's mind."

Jirou rolled her eyes. Her disrespect would have been harshly punished by any other officer, but Iida was more lenient than he looked, and Shouto didn't care enough to discipline her. He found her attitude kind of interesting, actually. People around him were flat, gray, too meek and polished. Knights, nobles, commoners, they were all the same: a succession of ass-lickers and rule-sticklers. They kissed the ground the Royal Family walked on.

Jirou was a drop of color in that boring gray world, and the more Shouto enabled her to complain without repercussions, the more daring she became with her opinion.

"Prince Shouto should definitely hone his skills," Mineta lisped, his greasy eyes still stuck to his teammate's body. "He could be the best archer in the land since Prince Natsuo doesn't fight and Prince Touya sucks at archery."

Iida shushed him and Jirou socked the back of his stupid head, but it was too late.

A rush of burning hate boiled through Shouto's veins. "You had better shut your mouth before I use you for my next target practice, dwarf."

The royal guard jumped behind Iida's powerful legs, scared to death. He squeaked an apology Shouto couldn't hear. His blood was pumping too loudly. His fists clenched so hard his nails broke his skin. He couldn't feel the pain. He could only feel the fire burning inside of him, begging to blaze out.

The dwarf would burn so easily... Shouto only needed the flick of a finger. The royal army wouldn't lose much. They had thousands of other knights, thousands of expendable tools. That one in particular was dull enough to be discarded like trash, because everyone in this goddamn castle knew they should never mention Touya in front of him.

"Your Highness—" Dainty fingers hovered near his smoking cheek. A soft cooling breeze swept across his burning skin, tempering the fire trying to break free.

His magic swirled back in his gut with a strange distaste.

Shouto took a shuddering breath. It was odd, how his fire magic seemed to possess a mind of its own. His ice magic didn't. The ice was a part of him, something Shouto could control easily. The fire was different. It felt like it could take over Shouto, burn him from the inside, and set his world ablaze with a twisted joy.

It made him uneasy. He didn't understand why the Light's power could feel so dark and hungry. The Light was the Mother of Creation, She thrived on life. Why would She bless them with a power that thrilled at the idea of destruction?

Yaoyorozu's cooling magic fizzled away. She studied Shouto with an anxiety he didn't like.

He'd asked her once how her magic felt. "Like a part of me that was always there but I didn't know existed," she had replied with a touch of wonder. "I would say it sparkles with life— with creation, I mean, but that would be comparing myself to the Mother of Creation herself, and I would never dare to do such a thing."

He wondered if Yaoyorozu had guessed the reason behind his curiosity. If she could see how... strangely dark his fire was. She was smarter than most.

Shouto hoped she didn't. “Dark” wasn't the first word that came to his mind when he thought about his fire. “Demonic” was, but he couldn't tie such a dreaded word with a power the Light Herself blessed them with.

Demons were evil creatures, monsters that their crusaders and mercenaries hunted to purge their land from their wretched influence. They could give power —that's how barbarian tribes got theirs — but it was wrong.

Dark magic was bound to lash back at its wielders. His mother's family, for example, was wrong. The ice in their veins drove them mad one by one after their settlement in the capital. So why did he feel like his ice belonged while his fire did not?

"Are you alright, your Highness?" Yaoyorozu asked worriedly.

"I want water," Shouto said instead of replying.

A servant ran to bring him a cup. Shouto cooled the metal with his right hand, a small drop of ice magic Yaoyorozu wouldn't feel.

Yes. The fresh, crisp feeling of his ice belonged.

He didn't understand.

He walked toward the cliff as Iida returned from the lower bailey, the dwarf sent to another squad for the rest of his life. On this side of the hill lay their vast coastal plain. Farms dotted the pale green. Sheep ate the salt-covered grass the high tide had left behind. A narrow line of land stretched from the plain to a small tidal island, a big rock with a fortress on top. Mount Icarus, they called it. A stony monastery for monks, nuns, and believers.

The High Priestess lived there. Shouto's mother and the last members of the Himura tribe lived there as well. People said it was a good place for those in turmoil, somewhere one could rest away from the capital's bustling chaos.

Shouto hadn't seen his mother in years. Ten, more or less. His last memory of her was painful, the burn on his face so intense he still remembered it to this day. The others, before her mind became too ill, were good. Shouto remembered how soft her eyes were — a pale wintery gray nearing silver under the sun.

He remembered how pretty her smile was. How loving her hand felt in his hair.

Shouto had been happy back then. He had felt something other than boredom, rage, and hate.

He had been a curious child, always eager to learn. His mother had replied to his questions with a kind patience, filling Shouto's life with a softness that vanished the day she was forced to retire to that cold and distant fortress.

Now, answers were delivered in a harsh tone, if not with a slap or a fist. A violence that Natsuo had tried to protect him from before he was sent to another kingdom. A roughness that Fuyumi tried to soften sometimes, but that she could never fully soothe away.

Shouto missed his mother. He couldn't remember how it felt to be happy anymore.

//

Shouto opened the geography book under the crisscrossed rays of sunshine. The castle's windows were tall and large, but the thickness of the stone walls and the iron grids on the glass made it hard for the daylight to pass through. Oil lamps and heavy chandeliers burned permanently, yet darkness still swallowed most of the rooms.

Exekol was built to be tall, with high ceilings and towers reaching towards the sky. The architecture gave the castle a cold atmosphere, something Shouto found ironic since their family descended from the Sun God himself. There was no warmth here. No plants, no rugs, no arches, no tapestries. Exekol was pure stone and boring straight lines. A castle as austere as its King and the ones before him.

Shouto held back a sigh and tried to focus on the book. His father trusted him to study general topics without a tutor. A blessing, since Shouto hated having someone breathing down his neck, and a curse when the lesson of the day was boring. Which was the case today.

The chapter he was trying to study was about Furan, a small kingdom from another land west of Ginga. Despite its size, Furan had a lot of allies and one of the most powerful armies in the world. They were also known for being pioneers in fashion and in food. Shouto had heard Fuyumi and Pony marvel about it before, and nobles at balls often strutted like peacocks when they were wearing outfits made in Furan.

Their kingdoms' relationship was not the best, but it was slowly warming up. They had opened their borders for ambassadors and merchants, starting an exchange of goods that was benefiting them both.

The chapter described Furan's best delicacies, boring Shouto even more. He wasn't interested in reading about things he would never experience. His father's leash was so tight around his throat, it was already a miracle that he could travel around Ginga from time to time. He would never be allowed outside of their realm.

Unlike Natsuo and Fuyumi, who were given to other kingdoms to cement an alliance, Shouto was precious. He was Touya's replacement as the Crown Prince in case Touya died, and it was only a matter of time before the asshole actually did.

Touya's fire burned hotter than any other Todoroki's before him, the blaze so strong it burned blue. His body couldn't handle it. It was literally falling apart, skin and bones held together by staples and potions. He was a walking corpse, as rotten on the outside as he was on the inside. Shouto couldn't wait for him to die.

"Prince Shouto." Sasaki walked inside the library. His green and yellow strands turned a mossy shade of piss under the lamp's golden lights. "The King would like to see you."

Well, the old man could fuck himself for all Shouto cared. "I'm busy."

The advisor coolly slid his glasses back up his nose. His yellow eyes were as eerie as ever without pupils. "Refusing isn't an option. You know that very well, Prince Shouto. Please don't waste both of our time."

By the Gods. Shouto stood up with an irritated sigh. He knew he was being childish, but he couldn't help it. Everything about his father rubbed him the wrong way. He hated the bastard with a passion that made his fire sing for death and destruction.

Jirou rushed to keep up with his furious steps. "Smells like bad news. Should I get Mo—Yaoyorozu, Sir Sasaki?" 

The advisor probably nodded, Shouto didn't care. He stomped to the castle's south wing until he saw that loathed door with a burning flame carved at the center.

He didn't knock. He pushed the damn thing and waltzed inside the King's cabinet. "What do you want."

Enji barely glanced at him, too busy writing a letter. The bastard was huge, his spiky hair as bloody as the previous rulers before him. Gigantic shoulders, bulging muscles — an imposing frame built by harsh training and the numerous battles he had to fight during the war.

The King was a monster in all senses, rotten to the core just like Touya. Shouto hated him.

"Sit."

A hand gesture dismissed Sasaki and Jirou. The big door closed behind them, leaving father and son in a cold office that Shouto couldn't stand.

He didn't sit, of course. He crossed his arms and waited.

"You're sixteen already," his father growled. "Be done with your childish attitude and act like the man you're supposed to be."

Acid burned Shouto's guts. "Touya is twice as old, and he still opens his big fucking mouth."

"Watch your tone. And don't be ridiculous. Your brother isn't an example you should follow."

Shouto knew that; he wasn't an idiot. He just hated the fact that Touya could talk and act as he pleased no matter how disgusting, while he had to be a proper prince. Touya was officially the Crown Prince. Not him. Not yet, anyway. 

Enji opened his seal box to apply the Gingan royal symbol at the end of the letter. Only then did he lift his eyes to meet Shouto's.

A lot cowered under the harsh blue stare. Shouto didn't flinch. He was used to it. He knew how far he could push until the bastard lost his temper. He knew how hard the monster could hit. He had nothing to fear.

"You're getting married."

A stunned silence stretched between them.

Did he hear that right? Wait, of course he was getting married. Pony had moved to the castle for a reason. Shouto had expected the wedding to be in a few years since the princess was only thirteen.

"So what."

"Not to the Beikoku girl," Enji said. "To a barbarian. The heir of that fucking mountain tribe."

...What?!

Shouto's mouth gaped open. 

What the fuck was going on? Yes, his mother was from a tribe, so such a union wasn't unheard of, but she came from a tribe that had submitted to them centuries ago!

The mountain tribe Enji was talking about was a thorn on their side since the war. All the barbarian tribes had surrendered and bowed to them apart from the fucking Bakugo. They clung to their last speck of land like feral dogs to a bone, even though they were surrounded for years by the royal army.

The knights who had the luck — or more like the misfortune — of breaching their line never came back alive. The Bakugo would throw them at the bottom of their mountain, cackling with manic glee, the state of their mangled bodies so gruesome they couldn't be recognized anymore. They were a nightmare his father was trying to wipe out for decades to no avail.

"How..." Shouto couldn't understand how a wedding was agreed upon. The Bakugo were savages. They spat on their kingdom with murderous hate.

The feeling was mutual. His father dreamed of crushing them between his gargantuan fists.

"Mitsuki Bakugo sent a message to Touya. She's a cunt full of pride, but she isn't stupid. Her mutts are slowly dwindling. She knows it. Touya met up with her in Aldera. Her tribe won't bow to us, but she agreed to join our kingdom if a Bakugo marries into our family. She thinks having ties with the Royal Family will protect them from being wiped. She offered the dirty hand of her own spawn."

Everything Enji said sounded unreal. The fact that Mitsuki Bakugo had asked to meet was already shocking. She was an animal. Natsuo had been sent to the mountain to heal knights during his military service, and he still had nightmares about her.

Shouto couldn't believe Touya had agreed to listen to her either. His brother didn't give a fuck about peace. He loved fighting, especially against the Bakugo.

"Nasty little shits," he had said after his first campaign, his lips stretched into a manic grin. "One of their runts actually bit me."

"How the fuck did it end up with me getting married?! You said they were slowly dwindling! Why don't you wait for them to disappear once and for all?!"

Enji slammed his fists on his desk. A whoosh of angry flames burst out of his palms.

"WOULD YOU USE YOUR FUCKING BRAIN! There is NOTHING more dangerous than a cornered beast!! Those savages will use the last of their strength to strike us as hard as they can!! Do you even know the damage they could do with their fucking magic?!"

Fire licked his enraged face. The flicker of something startled Shouto.

Gold eyes glowing over vivid blue. A monstrous smile with rows of sharp teeth.

Shouto blinked the hallucination away. He was probably tired.

"I thought Touya's fire was powerful. Why can't he do anything about them?"

The atmosphere grew so thick so fast that Shouto's instinct blared in alarm.

"You know the magic they have, don't you."

"Explosions."

"You know how tribes work. That cunt and her mutt aren't the only ones who sucked on a demon's tits," his father said, agitated. "All of them have that goddamned magic. Fifty animals with explosions that could DESTROY a whole village in a mere second. Do you realize how FUCKING DANGEROUS they are?! Why do you think we have so much trouble crushing them!!"

Enji's face was pure fire.

"You're scared of them," Shouto suddenly realized.

His father's hands scorched the wooden desk.

"Only a fool wouldn't be. Mitsuki Bakugo was always too strong and too cunning for her own good, but her mutt is something else. If, by the Gods and our Mother, I were to pass away before they were crushed for good, Touya wouldn't last a week against them. And you?" Enji snorted, "You wouldn't last a day."

Shame burned Shouto's throat. Fuck his father and his rotten opinion. He wasn't a weakling. He was stronger than most of their knights — the bastard had made sure of that when he had brutally dragged him away from his playing siblings to start a gruesome training that was still going on to this day. What was the point of destroying his childhood if he thought Shouto was that weak?

"Why me?" he gritted between his teeth, fire magic twisting and twirling in his guts. "Is this one of Touya's fucking games?"

"No. Touya played our cards right for once. He offered, as the Crown Prince, to marry the Bakugo's heir. It would have been easy to make the mutt disappear after Touya's death."

"Then how the fuck did it end up with me?!"

"That bitch could smell Touya's state. She asked for another Todoroki. I'm in talks with Furan's King to marry Fuyumi to his son this year, so you're the only one left. I'm about to send a letter to Pony's father to explain the situation."

He showed the drying letter.

"You will marry the mutt, and we will make sure something happens to him. Even beasts love their offspring, so that cunt will be grieving. She will be easy to kill. And without a head, the rest of the pack will follow."

Shouto's fire spun faster, begging to go out.

"This is ridiculous. Isn't he a boy? How the fuck are we even allowed to marry!"

"The Light allows unions between a husband and a bride, whatever their gender is," Enji reminded him. "You will be the husband, of course. So that mutt can only be the bride."

His flames went back to their usual shape, fiery mimics of eyebrows and beard.

"Mitsuki Bakugo knows that very well, but there wasn't much she could say," he sneered with a cruelty Shouto had rarely seen on his face. "Imagine how humiliated that mutt will be when he walks down the aisle in a dress. I cannot wait to see his pride crumble. If the Gods are smiling upon us, he won't be able to take it and he will end his life himself."

Shouto didn't even know what to say anymore, too disgusted by his future to find words.

He was going to marry a savage boy dressed like a princess. How gross would that look? He would have to touch that thing. Kiss it. Fucking bed it. Sex was a disgusting thing he wanted far away from him. How was he expected to do it with an animal in a dress?

"Fuck this." He left the office as abruptly as he had come, the door slamming behind him.

Yaoyorozu called after him. Jirou swore under her breath. He ignored them both.

His dark whirlwind of rage, hate, and frustration had to go out. His fire had to go out. He had to lock himself up in the Sword House to let go. Or else everyone around him was going to burn.

//

"Now. You may pound the rose's petals with your pestle and add them to your ointment."

Shouto mashed the ingredient into a red puree. His ointment was simmering inside his small cauldron, a mix of honey and pork lard. He scraped the petals inside and stirred as Shishida instructed.

Standing next to him in the study room, Hiryu was following the recipe dutifully. The prince was the youngest brother of Chugôku's Emperor. He was sixteen, just like Shouto. Short in height, with long hair tied into a braid, and terribly soft-spoken. Shouto had thought he was a girl when they first met.

Hiryu had been invited by King Enji to study in their kingdom following Natsuo's wedding to one of the Emperor's sisters. The old man had told Shouto to play nice; he wanted them to be friends to cement the good relationship between Chugôku and Ginga.

The old man could fuck off. Shouto didn't give a flying fuck about Hiryu. The prince was so meek. Shouto could barely stand him.

"You may extinguish the fire and let your ointment rest."

Shouto froze his fire with a flick of magic. He didn't bother helping Hiryu. The prince had to collect water from the large sink at the back of the room to douse the burning twigs in his stone bowl.

Shishida gave Shouto a disapproving stare. The professor didn't like his selfishness. He had tried to lecture him, saying a prince should offer a helpful hand to his fellows and his subjects. Shouto had bluntly replied that he didn't care about his opinion.

Why would he? Being a mage from the Sky Citadel, being a professor, and being his private tutor didn't grant Shishida the right to make remarks about his behavior. The mage was here to teach him the basics of medicine, not give him moral lessons.

The professor went on to explain the ointment's healing properties and how to use it to treat burns. Hiryu's feather quill scratched across his papers dutifully. Shouto stopped listening at Balm for Burns. His magic protected him from that kind of injury, unless the fire was stronger than his.

His father and Touya were the only ones who could hurt him like that. The first favored fists rather than magic to teach him lessons. The second would never stop at a mere burn. He would cremate Shouto until there was nothing left.

"Once you've deemed your ointment cool enough, you may pour it into a jar. I then invite you to put away your materials. We will be done for the day."

Shouto washed his materials in the sink while Hiryu put his ingredients back into the large cabinets. They were usually done with their tasks at the same time so they could switch and stay far away from each other, but the lard had burnt the bottom of Shouto's cauldron. Hiryu hesitated, even though the sink was large enough for two users. He timidly joined Shouto.

"I heard you were getting married," he said with his soft voice. "How are you feeling about it?"

What a useless question. Did he intend to piss him off on purpose?

"It's none of your business," Shouto coldly replied, making him flinch.

The prince didn't snap back. The submission unsettled Shouto more than his long hair and his meekness.

Members of a Royal Family were above all, apart from the Gods themselves. Their only equals were other members of blessed Families. They granted respect to their royal peers if they were allies. But they demanded respect from all, be it friends or enemies.

Hiryu wasn't like that at all. He cowered under Shouto's frosty glares and never bit back.

Shouto knew that other kingdoms had other customs, but respect was extremely important to Chugôku people. He couldn't understand why Hiryu bore his rudeness so quietly instead of fighting back.

Heavy silence hung between them, annoyed on one side, uncomfortable on the other. Shouto put away his ingredients and left the study room without a goodbye.

"Ah, your Highness!" Yaoyorozu called. "A page is here for you."

The boy was short, with green curls and freckles dotting his cheeks. His eyes were green as well, just like the vest of his page uniform.

"Good morning, your Highness," he panted, struggling to keep up with Shouto's quick pace. "My name is Izuku Midoriya. I've been chosen by the King to serve as a messenger between the Royal Family and the Bakugo tribe during the months of courtship leading to the wedding ceremony. I just wanted to introduce myself before leaving for the Ok— for Sereno Mountain in case you had any questions about the Bakugo or the ceremony itself. I'm still learning about the Royal wedding traditions, but I know quite a lot about the Bakugo. I was born and raised in Aldera, the small town closest to Sereno Mountain, so I saw the Bakugo quite frequently back when they were still trading with us. They used to sell the best meat in the region, as they are formidable hunters, and the patterns they sew on clothes are very intrica—"

"Shut it."

The boy instantly shut his mouth. Were pages always that chatty? Shouto rarely dealt with them. They were in charge of bringing important letters to their receivers and taking care of their master's advanced needs — a role somewhere between worker and advisor. A strange mixture of glorified pigeons and servants.

"Which house are you from?"

"Hum, Sir Sasaki's, your Highness."

Shouto's intrigue took over his annoyance. As small as Sasaki's house was, it produced very efficient people. The most famous of them being Mirio Togata, a knight who had climbed the ranks so fast he was the youngest officer of their Crusader unit.

"How old are you?"

"I turned sixteen this summer, your Highness."

A man, then.

Shouto studied him from head to toe. The page fidgeted nervously. He had to be efficient for Sasaki to recommend his service. But his youthful face and the hint of fear in his big green eyes made Shouto skeptical.

"You lived in Aldera, you said? Is that why they chose you?"

"Hum, I'm not entirely sure, your Highness. My guess would be that... I'm probably the only person in our kingdom who really knows the Bakugo, so Sir Sasaki thought I would be a good fit for this mission."

The page did mention the fact that those barbarians used to trade with his town.

"Have you seen the mutt?" Shouto asked with morbid curiosity. He wanted to know what would walk down the aisle.

"The mutt?" The boy blinked in confusion. "I'm not sure which mutt you're talking about, your Highness."

"The heir of that tribe."

Something shifted on the page's face. Gone was the girly voice. Gone was the nervous fiddling, the innocent eyes, the boyish face.

Standing in front of Shouto was a man with hard green eyes, straight shoulders, and a solid back.

"With all my due respect, your Highness, you shouldn't call him that."

Hm. So he wasn't scared to speak his mind. How interesting.

"Our kingdom is riddled with rumors," Midoriya went on carefully. "About the tribes, about the Royal Family, about you. There is some truth in them but also a lot of fallacies, especially when they're based on fear and worsened by the grapevine. As wild as Kacchan is, he isn't an animal. So you shouldn't use that word to speak of him."

They stared at each other, oblivious to Yaoyorozu's growing nervousness.

Shouto was stunned. Outside of his family, no one had ever talked to him that way. Izuku Midoriya was a splash of color in the gray castle — someone who was walking a very fine line, one word away from disrespect that Shouto would have to severely punish.

Shouto, however, wanted to see how far the page would speak his mind.

"Is that his name?"

Midoriya blinked in confusion. Just like that, the boyish page from before was back. "Sorry?"

"Kacchan. Is that his name?"

The page's face went all red. "I— no, it's— We met when we were really young and— ah, his name is Katsuki."

That sounded strangely feminine for the heir of a savage tribe.

"And what's that courtship about?"

Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, both parties agreed to follow Gingan traditions, so you'll have to exchange letters with Kacc— Katsuki. Poems, actually."

"Poems?" Shouto scowled with distaste.

"Ah, yes. According to the official courtship ritual book of Gingan, poems are a great way to show your mind's skills and your heart's wishes."

Ridiculous. Especially when barbarians barely spoke their language and had no schools to begin with.

"Does he even know how to read?"

"Yes, he does," Midoriya drily replied. "I should take my leave now, your Highness. Mitsuki-mama is waiting for a confirmation of the wedding's date. If you have any questions about the Bakugo, please feel free to write them down. I will happily introduce you to their culture, which is far more interesting than you'd think."

He curtly bowed and left.

His abrupt departure stunned Shouto more than his dry tone. Was he crazy? Servants didn't leave before being dismissed. Had he done that in front of Enji, the King would have sentenced him to a harsh beating — or worse.

"Are you alright, your Highness?" Yaoyorozu asked warily.

Shouto was more than alright. He hadn't felt curious about something in a very long time.

//

Unlike the middle bailey, the upper bailey's ramparts opened on the south side of the castle. The view was incredible up there. They could see the royal orchard and the large road snaking down the hill. Musutafu lay at the bottom, cut in half by the Apollo River.

The capital was decent in size. Square buildings, gray stone, dark tiled roofs. Colors only painted the heart of the bustling city.

Helios Square was a perfect circle with a huge cathedral in the middle. Green foliage twisted around the structure's strong columns, and gold shimmered on the walls.

Musutafu's largest roads led to the place of worship, paved like sun-rays that separated each district into equal size.

"So symmetrical," Fuyumi sighed, not for the first time. She preferred soft curves and pastel tones — a taste that was easy to notice if one looked at her paintings. She often used the Great Sea and Exekol's private chapel as models.

The chapel's main door was built under an arch brimming with plants. The dome roof elegantly pointed toward the blue sky. Climbing greens covered white bricks and gold paint. Stained glass, bursting with colors, shimmered under the sunlight. The beautiful building gave the upper bailey a warm and peaceful atmosphere. Even Shouto, who had no interest in anything, could recognize that.

He stayed quiet while he sipped his tea, mismatched eyes observing the busy city.

"Here, have some more dessert." Fuyumi put another slice of strawberry cake on his plate. "It's nice, isn't it?"

"Yes."

His sister was good at baking. A princess' place wasn't in a kitchen. But when she was in the mood for her special tea times, she would tie their mother's apron around her waist and bake. Her servants would bring her low table outside and set it on top of her large bamboo-braided mat. They would then serve tea in their mother's tea set.

These tea times had nothing Gingan in them. Gingan people sat on chairs, ate with cutlery, and drank from porcelain mugs with handles. They didn't sit on the floor nor share dishes. 

Their father hated anything related to tribes, but he turned a blind eye to these barbarians' afternoons for some reason.

Shouto wasn't going to complain. These were the only times he could eat sweets and sit around doing nothing.

"I can't believe you're getting married before me," Fuyumi said with a small smile, dainty hands hugging her steaming little cup. "I know your bride is not who you expected him to be, but... it's going to be an important day for you."

"I'm only doing what Father is forcing me to do," Shouto scowled into a bite of strawberries.

"I trust Father to decide what's best for our kingdom. Sometimes, it simply doesn't align with our own wishes..."

Treating his own family the way he did was not for the good of the kingdom. But Shouto kept quiet. His only source of gentleness was Fuyumi now, and he didn't want to lose that by being his hateful self.

His sister's afternoons were already getting scarcer and scarcer since Natsuo left...

Shouto knew he was bad company. He didn't know how to talk with people. But it still hurt, and he was scared to see these small moments of softness disappear.

He struggled to find a topic to ease the awkward atmosphere. "Father wants to send you to Furan to get married."

"Ah, yes!" Fuyumi's face brightened up, unknotting Shouto's stomach. "Father asked my opinion about it and... I think it would be good for our budding relationship. The current Prince of Furan is a bit young compared to me, but he seems kind. We danced together during Natsuo's Well Wishes Ball. He was well-mannered. A true gentleman."

"That's nice."

Fuyumi getting married also meant she was going to live in Furan. Shouto would have no one left, then.

His heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

"That's if the wedding is agreed on, of course," Fuyumi said. "Furan's King and Father still have a lot to discuss. Besides, our kingdom's priority is to organize your wedding, isn't it? Once you get married to the Bakugo's heir, Ginga will finally be at peace. It'll be a joyful celebration for our people. And the flowers of the cathedral will be at full bloom during the ceremony. I'm sure it's going to be beautiful."

"The beauty of the cathedral won't matter," Shouto coldly replied. "The bride is a mutt with a dress."

Fuyumi flinched. She only flinched when Enji smacked his hand on a table, or when Touya started to spew nasty shit.

Shouto's spite deflated. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He didn't know why he couldn't have a normal conversation with his sister. Why he couldn't chat about anything and giggle like his siblings did with each other.

Even Touya could do it, and Touya was a rotten asshole. He bickered and joked with Natsuo, gossiped with Fuyumi and made her laugh. They sought him out when he was in the castle. They loved him despite his nastiness.

Why was Shouto so different?

Fuyumi rolled her cup between her hands. She was struggling to find something to say. Shouto tried to find another topic too, the growing cloud of hurt and anxiety becoming difficult to bear.

The Light showed mercy on them because a bright voice broke their uncomfortable silence.

"Yumiiiiiiiii!!"

Pony waved happily at the entrance of the upper bailey. Her long sunny hair was tied into a high ponytail. Her traveling cape was still fastened around her neck. Her page was following her closely, a basket hanging from one arm.

Fuyumi smiled with so much warmth it was painful to see.

"Hello, Pony! Your timing is perfect. I tried your mother's cheesecake recipe today. It turned out quite nicely."

"No way! Manga, can you help me with my boots?" 

"Of course, Princess!" her page dropped easily to his knees to unlace her boots.

Everyone loved the Beikoku princess. She was everything their castle was not: sunny, loud, alive. She was the youngest of two brothers, and she was sent to Musutafu to grow closer to Shouto because they were supposed to get married.

Being separated from her family didn't bother her despite her young age. She loved their culture and spent her time traveling around the kingdom to collect tales and paintings.

She sat down on a pillow and happily thanked Fuyumi for a slice of cake. "By the Godj, dish ish amazing!" she moaned around her fork.

Her reactions were always over the top. Shouto didn't like it very much. He didn't say anything, though. Fuyumi was smiling again, and the atmosphere wasn't heavy anymore. 

"Hey Shouto, I heard you were getting married to a barbarian guy?" Pony asked after she destroyed half of her slice. "It's crazy! Did you meet him yet?"

"No."

"Did they show you a portrait or something?"

"No."

"Do you even know his name?"

Shouto thought about hard green eyes, a clumsy boy one second and an iron-willed man the next. "Katsuki."

"Seriously?" Pony's marine eyes widened. "It's actually pretty. I thought it would be something like, I don't know… San or Horokeu?"

Shouto didn't reply. The barbarian's name didn't matter to him.

"Pony, are you alright with the situation?" Fuyumi hesitantly asked.

"Yeah, why not? I mean, Father sent me a letter to explain everything. He said it was temporary. Besides, I'm too young to get married, and I guess Shouto might want to, you know… do grown-up things and stuff. So he can do that with his first bride!"

Shouto frowned, confused. Fuyumi's cheeks turned a bit pink.

"I'm really happy about it, actually!" Pony went on with a smirk. "Cause I can pretend to be super sad so King Enji fiiiinally lets me travel to the Crimson Islands!!"

"He won't," Shouto said.

The Crimson Islands were famous for their beautiful locals with porcelain skin, inky hair, and dainty features. They were also known for drawing their swords in the blink of an eye for the smallest reason.

"But whyyyyy!" Pony whined like a baby. "I heard it was beauuutiful! And I love their printmaking styyyyle! The way they draw is amaziiiinnnng!!!"

"They would kill you because you're too loud," Shouto sneered in distaste. 

"Shouto!" Fuyumi admonished. "He didn't mean it like that, Pony."

She stroked the girl's hair with a softness that twisted Shouto's heart. 

Pony stuck her tongue out at him. "You're a meanie! No wonder I'm not in love with you! I hope your savage wife is as ugly and mean as you!"

The mutt would be, Shouto had no doubt about that. Barbarians were hairy creatures that slept in stinky tents or unkempt huts. They didn't trim themselves. They didn't brush their teeth. They didn't bathe.

"The stench of their pussies is unbearable," Touya had said one day. "Like a fish rotting under the sun."

Shouto's stomach churned violently. The asshole was disgusting.

"Anyway! I traveled in the Riotto region this time, and I got an amaaazing tale!" Pony said excitedly.

"Really? What is it about?"

Fuyumi loved stories, especially romance. Shouto and his brothers used to pile up in her room on a thin mattress their mother would unroll on the floor. Fuyumi would then read a book aloud, and they would fall asleep to princes fighting demons and marrying the love of their hearts.

"It's a story about a beautiful lady and her son! It's so ancient, it's written on parchment. One of those old divers from Chiba gave it to me. You know, those grannies who pluck urchins from the bottom of the sea?"

"Oh, I heard about them! The kitchen workers were talking about it the other day."

Pony asked her page to give her the old tale. The boy fished a scroll from her basket. It looked ancient indeed, but cherished. A worn orange rope was keeping it closed.

"Is that silk?" Fuyumi asked, surprised. "What a prized fabric for a commoner."

"Yeah, the granny said it was like a family heirloom or something. But she was happy to give it to me 'cause I'm so cute, you know? Hey Manga, can you read it for us?"

"Well, if Prince Shouto and Princess Fuyumi don't mind, it would be my pleasure."

Shouto sipped his tea quietly. He didn't care. Fuyumi nodded her permission, so the page unrolled the parchment with an excitement that could rival Pony's.

"One day, in the wild mountains, an old hunter comes across the body of a massive wolf. Upon cutting it open, he is shocked to find an infant, no larger than his knife, inside. The old man and his wife, having no children of their own, decide to raise the child as their own daughter and name her Sakuretsu-hime.

Within a few years, Sakuretsu-hime grows from a tiny infant into a woman of ordinary size, yet possessing remarkable power and extraordinary beauty. Her skin is the fairest of any maiden in the land, her lips the softest shade of pink, her eyes as precious as the rarest jewels, and she carries the power of a thousand suns in her palms."

A thousand suns in her palms? The power reminded Shouto of the Bakugo. The wolf too. Barbarians didn't write tales, though.

"Would you like to see the drawings, your Highnesses?"

"Awesome idea, Manga!" Pony took the parchment from his hands and spread it on the table.

The first painting, squeezed between two chunks of text, depicted a woman with pink hair, pure white skin, red eyes, and peachy lips. She was wearing a dark kimono dress, her small waist highlighted by a tight obi belt.

"At first, the old man and his wife tried to keep Sakuretsu-hime away from outsiders. But word of her beauty and her power spread quickly, and soon many suitors came, hoping to win her hand in marriage. Among them was the emperor's own son. Sakuretsu-hime refused him at first, but as the months went by, they continued to exchange letters.

As time passed, stories of her beauty and her power spread far and wide — from the lands of the living all the way to Heaven and Hell. Even a demon took notice, much to Sakuretsu-hime's dismay. This demon was no ordinary fiend; he was the King of Hell himself.

From his dark kingdom, he rose to claim Sakuretsu-hime as his own. She waited in vain for the emperor's son, but the demon would not be denied. He seized her and forced her to serve him in the underworld."

The parchment revealed another painting, and ice froze Shouto’s guts.

Yellow eyes gleamed from between corpses engulfed in flames. Blood stained razor-sharp teeth. A demonic smile.

A ringing whistled in his ears. He remembered a face in his father’s office — a split, frozen second. His fire magic sizzled inside him, twisting and writhing as he stared at the yellow eyes, deaf to the girls’ chatter about the X-shaped scar on Sakuretsu-hime’s face.

"Nine months later, Sakuretsu-hime bears the demon a child. The demon is dismayed, for millennia ago he learned that his own son would be his undoing. And so, he takes the infant away."

"It’s time for you to grow up," his father had said, dragging him from warmth and laughter. "I will make you the greatest ruler Ginga has ever known."

"Meanwhile, in the land of the living, a monk travels toward a temple when he hears a cry. On a rock lies an abandoned infant. The monk takes the child to the temple, where the boy grows into a powerful young man. Destined to be the finest knight, he eventually crosses paths with the King of Hell.

The demon, who once made even the greatest gods tremble, is defeated. Mother and son recognize one another at last, and together they embrace a life of peace and freedom."

Shouto stared at the last drawing. The mother and son were locked in the sweetest embrace.

Was that all it took? Did he have to kill the demon to be happy with his mother again?

His heart tightened with yearning.

"I want that story," he said. He took the parchment and left, paying no mind to the surprised princesses.

//

"Well hello, baby brother."

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Touya smiled like the piece of shit he was. Shouto burned him with his most venomous stare, his hate and magic squeezing his guts like a tight vice.

The asshole had the gall to lie on the bed as if it were his, messing up the sheets with his filthy travel outfit. He hadn't even taken off his soiled boots. A rotten pig with two whores sprawled on each side of him.

One was a girl in a lacy dress with a corset so tight it was a wonder she could breathe, and the other a man in a sheer shirt that left nothing to the imagination. Shouto's stomach churned in revulsion.

"Mother of Light, ShouShou," Touya snickered. "I just came back from another campaign where I could have died, and this is how you greet me? I'm hurt."

Shouto's mood soured drastically. "I wish you were fucking dead. Now leave. This is my room and my bed, you rotten bastard."

"Boo hoo. My, my, my," Touya mimicked. "Little Shouto doesn't want to share."

Anger and shame heated Shouto's face. His fire magic simmered inside him, begging to go out and burn. Gods, how he wanted to hear it sing its dark song.

Why couldn't Touya die already?? What the fuck was keeping him alive?? Most of his body was already destroyed, his skin burned purple beyond repair. He had been sent to Sereno Mountain more than any fucking knight. So why the hell was he still breathing??

"Iida, take this fucker out of here," Shouto snapped.

"Misaki," Touya countered.

His brother's huge royal guard stepped in front of the door before Iida could enter. The two knights weren’t going to fight; striking a comrade wasn’t allowed in the royal army. They were stuck staring at each other like two unmoving pieces on a chessboard.

Shouto clenched his teeth in frustration, blood and magic boiling so violently that smoke billowed from his burning cheek.

"Now now, baby brother," Touya mocked with a nasty smile. "No need to throw a tantrum. I heard you were getting married, so I thought I would be a good brother and teach you all you need to know about satisfying your bride. Look, I even bought a girl for your next wedding too. Aren't I the nicest?"

The bastard pulled one of the girl's tits out of her blouse to squeeze it. She moaned loudly, undulating her hips to rub her crotch against his gross body while he toyed with her nipple.

"Fuck off and get out!!" Shouto gagged in disgust. 

The rotten asshole snickered, "I really think you should enjoy the lesson, baby bro. You know you'll have to fuck your wife in front of everyone, don't you? How embarrassing would it be if you don't know what to do with your tiny cock."

The whores giggled like the stupid cunts they were.

"Do you even know where to put it? I think you should show him, sweethearts."

The whores obeyed without any shame or hesitation. The man rolled onto his belly, spreading his ass cheeks. The woman lifted her dress to reveal her cunt, her curly hair neatly trimmed and pointing at her folds.

Shouto averted his eyes so fast his bedroom spun. A spike of magic choked his throat, setting the left side of his face aflame with a woosh. The sulfur smell grew so thick the whores wrinkled their noses despite their awe at the Light's power.

"What's wrong, ShouShou?" Touya taunted. "Are you embarrassed? Is it too much for your pure, virgin eyes? How cute."

"Don't worry, your Highness," the woman purred. "We will take good care of you."

She came way too close, one tit still exposed from her dress. It was littered with mouth and hand shaped bruises.

"We will teach you everything you need to know, you'll see how good it feels."

How good it feels?

Shouto still remembered how hard his mother had cried, her nightgown completely askew. He remembered how small she had been under the monster's frame. How painfully her face had scrunched up as she was crushed by gigantic hands against the mattress. Her pleading whispers: "Please stop, please stop, please—"

And that cunt dared to speak about pleasure?!

Shouto snatched her bruised throat in a choking grip. 

"Shut your fucking mouth, whore," his voice thundered so low it sounded inhuman.

His fire was growing monstrously huge. Waves of dark power crashed inside and outside of him with dark glee.

"Y-y-y-y-your H-hi—," she stammered, her eyes bulging in terror.

Fire burst out of Shouto hand. 

The magic roared. Her throat sizzled and bubbled between his blazing fingers.

He couldn't hear the screeches. He couldn't feel the whore's struggles. He was drowning in a perfect inferno, the pure rush of power intoxicating.

He craved the stench of burnt flesh. He loved the feeling of charred pieces falling on the floor.

He smiled, and his magic laughed until there was nothing left to burn.

Only then did the fire fizzle out, the magic sliding back inside him.

His vision cleared.

A black mass smoked at his feet. Touya was jubilating on the bed. The whore next to him quivered in unadulterated terror.

"How did it feel, baby bro?" Touya asked with an unhinged smile. "Did you like it?? It feels good to be a monster, doesn't it??"

Shouto recoiled.

Enji was a monster. Touya was a monster. He wasn't.

So why did his heart beat so fast? And why the fuck was the other whore staring at him like that!?

"Lower your fucking head!!!" It sounded like two voices had snapped: one his, one demonic.

The whore obeyed so fast his neck popped. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I really am sorry, please—"

"Shut up and do what I paid you to do, cunt," Touya cut him off.

The whore glanced at him in fear. "W-what? B-but—"

Blue flames licked Touya's dancing fingers. They alighted his eyes in an eerie neon color.

"Go fuck my brother, sweetheart. And don't make me repeat myself, yeah?"

That's right, Shouto's magic whispered. Come.

The whore fumbled to stand. His legs shook so hard that his knees bumped into each other. His eyes shifted between Shouto and Touya in pure fear before glancing down at the charred mass on Shouto's feet.

"Y-your Highnesses, please," he cried, completely terrified. "I have no wish to anger anyone, please have mercy, I'm begging you—"

Touya kept playing with his blue flames. Shouto stayed quiet. 

The whore looked at them both again, teeth chattering in fear...

Then bolted for the open door.

Pure blue engulfed him, making him scream.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Touya cackled. "We can't have you babbling about our real faces now, can we??"

His manic smile stretched to his ears, his teeth shining blue.

Burn, Shouto's magic whispered louder. Burn, burn, BURN!

Fire shot out of his hand. Orange clashed against blue in a powerful roar.

Shouto burned everything. He craved to see the whole room engulfed in red. But blue swallowed his wardrobe. Gnawed at his bed's pillars. Licked his chair and his desk and his sitting area.

And Touya looked barely human in the middle of it all.

"I'm gonna burn everything you have, little brother. Maybe I should burn you too, what d'you think??"

The blue inferno roared around Shouto.

"Should I give your face another scar?? I think that's what you deserve for treating my gifts this way, especially when I only wanted to help! Our little bride is getting fucked by three demons on a regular basis, you know?? It would be a shame to make him think Gingan men don't know how to use their cocks!"

Rage powered Shouto's fire. Orange spiked here and there. Blue swallowed everything again.

"You think you're better than me??" Touya laughed like a madman, "You're a replacement! A useless copy that will never be above me!! You get that, Shouto?! Whatever you become, I was before you! Whatever you do, I did before you!! Whatever you get, I got before you!! Don't you ever forget that!!"

Gone was the manic smile and the delighted laugh. There was only pure hate, raging resentment, spiteful bitterness.

Touya's burning feelings mirrored Shouto's so perfectly it only fueled their fire more.

"Alright, let's cool down here," a familiar voice drawled over the roars.

Whistling red whooshed around Shouto. Feathers snagged his clothes in various places. Before he could react, his body flew out of the room, along corridors, out of the castle, up into the sky.

His heart leaped up into his throat when his body suddenly free fell.

The feathers slowed his descent. Shouto staggered back to his feet, his mind reeling from the brutal change of scenery.

"Your Highness!!" Yaoyorozu ran to him, Iida hot on her heels.

He couldn't stop the rabid beating of his heart. He felt disoriented. Cold, sweaty, shivering. His burned skin prickled painfully. The lingering stench of burned flesh made him want to hurl.

Iida held one of his arms to support him. "Hawks must be clearing up your apartment as we speak, Your Highness. Should we bring you to another one so you can rest?"

"Yes."

Shouto needed to lie down. His head rang with the beginning of a bad migraine.

His guards helped him walk back inside. Shivers wracked his sweaty body. Touya's words kept burning him like acid.

He buried them as deep as he could to forget how painful they were.

//

People thought Autumn was a sad season. The sky was stuck in a perpetual gray. Trees and grass slowly wilted. Wind blew. Rain poured on the land.

Shouto quite liked it, though. The pitter-patter against his bedroom window was a nice sound to fall asleep to. And when the sun shone shyly through heavy clouds, the blanket of fallen leaves in the orchard exploded with vivid orange, red, and yellow — a fiery painting Shouto admired while he did his rounds on top of the castle's ramparts.

There was some agitation down the hill today. Workers raked fallen leaves out of the road and a rider was slowly making his way up. A green cape was wrapped around his body. Izuku Midoriya? The page had been gone for more than a month, enough time to go to Sereno Mountain and back.

Shouto's guts twisted unpleasantly. He didn't want to hear anything about the savages. He was in a bad mood already. Touya had been sent back to the mountain a few days ago, but his last twisted game was still fresh in Shouto's mind.

Hawks, the mage from the Sky Citadel who took care of Touya's burns, had cleared his room with magic. But Shouto could still smell the remnants of burnt flesh and the pungent stench of Touya's rotten skin. It made him gag.

The rider reached the first gate. He showed his King's seal. The knights on duty allowed him inside.

Green curls peeked out of his hood. So it was indeed Izuku Midoriya. Had he heard about the burned whores? Shouto wondered what he would say.

Midoriya slid down from his horse and gave the reins to a squire. He caught Shouto's eyes despite the distance. His lips twitched upwards.

He climbed the stairs to join them. "Good evening, your Highness! Hello, Miss Jirou!" 

Jirou gave him a lazy wave. Pieces of hay clung to the bottom of his cape. He reeked of sweat. He seemed excited by the heavy satchel he was carrying.

"The Bakugo agreed with the date! I wanted to tell you the news before I informed King Enji. Oh, and I got Kacc—Katsuki's poem."

He grabbed a folded piece of paper from his pocket. Shouto didn't take it. 

"You were gone a long time."

"Ah, yes." Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck. "Mitsuki-mama had a lot of questions about Gingan weddings. Then I spent a few days with my mom. She's living by herself and worries a lot, so I try to visit her as much as I can."

Shouto's heart squeezed a little. "Why is your mother by herself?"

"Hum, I'm not sure. My dad left us before I was born. My mom always gets sad when I ask questions about him, so I decided to let it go. It doesn't really matter to me, anyway. I never knew my father, so I can't miss him."

Probably. But Shouto would have crumbled if he didn't have any memories of his mother. Even if the ache left by her absence weighed on him constantly, he would never wish to not know her.

"I will leave the poem in your room if you don't want to read it now."

Shouto stopped him before he walked away. "Did I tell you to leave?"

Midoriya blinked, confused. "Well… did you need anything else?"

No, but servants couldn't leave before Shouto allowed them to. The page had to know this unspoken rule, yet he didn't seem to care.

Shouto didn't want to punish him, though. He wanted to study the page a bit more. "Tell me about your journey."

"I will be happy to do so, your Highness." Midoriya shivered at a strong gust of wind. "Would you like to come with me inside, then? I have to grab a few books before I go back to my room. I can tell you about the Bakugo on the way."

Shouto followed him down the stairs. 

"The atmosphere around Sereno was different this time," Midoriya said. "Nothing surprising, since the Bakugo are finally going to join the Royal Family. It's still tense at the border, but there hasn’t been any death on either side since the agreement. It's a sure sign that the war is over."

Shouto scowled. Not because of the truce, but because it meant Touya was going to come back permanently. "Is my bastard brother still breathing?"

"Prince Touya?" Midoriya fidgeted with his buttons uneasily. "Yes."

"I wish he would fucking die already."

"I know he's not the most pleasant person in the kingdom but he's still your brother, Prince Shouto. And even if he wasn't, that’s a harsh thing to wish for."

"He burned a whore alive and made me do it too. He's rotten."

Midoriya stiffened in shock. 

"He said the mutt was getting fucked by three demons," Shouto said. "Is that true?"

The page faced Shouto head-on, eyes hard and jaw set. "Please stop calling him that."

"I can call him whatever I want," Shouto replied matter-of-factly. "I'm a Todoroki."

"And he's the heir of a tribe. In their eyes, you're equals."

"That's absurd."

"For you, maybe, but not for them. The Royal Family also agreed to ally with the Bakugo by marriage, not to enslave them. That means that, by our standards as well, Kacchan will be your equal as soon as you take his hand."

The barbarian wasn't going to live long enough to enjoy his role as a princess, but Shouto kept that to himself.

"He can be my equal or above me, I don't care. I don't have to respect him if I don't want to."

He didn't get the reaction he expected. Instead of frowning or squaring his shoulders some more, Midoriya mellowed out and grinned.

"You're more alike than you think, you know? Kacchan said the exact same thing." His smile was bittersweet, his voice laced with a small trickle of pain. "I understand why your opinion about the Bakugo is so harsh, but you'll change your mind when you meet him. Kacchan is… he's amazing. So powerful. And so beautiful. He's incredibly smart too, way more than you would think. Some would sacrifice anything to be in your position."

"What?" Shouto asked in confusion. "A Prince of Ginga?"

"No. Kacchan's husband."

Shouto stared at the page as if he had grown two heads. That was more than absurd. Tribe people were called savages for a reason. They weren't sophisticated or cultured.

Sure, some tribes were better than others. The Himura, for example, were civilized, quiet, and mannered enough. But the Bakugo were the worst.

They lived in the wild. They acted like beasts on the battlefield. They screamed their heads off, foamed at the mouth. Ink and blood covered their half-naked bodies. They fought with no honor, used fangs and claws if they needed to, and you could strike them a thousand times, they would still crawl to try and get you until they were truly dead.

They were feral dogs. "Animals that only know how to fight or fuck." No one wanted to marry that. Midoriya was mad for thinking otherwise.

"You said you were from Aldera."

"Huh— yes, your Highness," Midoriya replied, surprised by the sudden change of topic.

"Do they share your opinion in your village?"

"I— not really," the page admitted. "Even if they did, I doubt they would say anything. It's easier to follow the mass, after all."

True. It was interesting, how different Midoriya was. Why was he like this? Shouto wanted to question him, but his break was about to be over, and Enji would not tolerate a second of lateness.

"Go get your books," he ordered.

"Oh— yes, your Highness. Here," Midoriya held the stupid poem again.

Shouto snatched it, lips curled down in distaste. The page ran toward the library after a polite nod.

"He's a weird one," Jirou said.

Yes, Shouto agreed. A weird one who was walking a fine, interesting line.

//

The wolves are crying

Misty petals. With them

My heart is singing

//

The poem made no sense at all. Wolves didn’t cry — they were animals. And why was it so short? Shouto wasn’t an expert, but he’d had mandatory lessons about the stupid art, and the poems his teacher had forced down his throat had been way longer.

The writing was horrendous as well. More scribble than anything, as if the barbarian had been in a hurry or something. Was he even taking this shit seriously? Not that Shouto wanted to either, but why should he be the only one forcing himself to?

“...no need for concerns, as you can see. Shouto and Pony will marry after her coming-of-age ceremony, just as your King and I agreed.”

“That’s what I thought,” Bate’s voice boomed inside the office.

The Beikokuan knight was the biggest woman Shouto had ever seen, muscles so thick they bulged out of her armor. A long striped cape fell from her broad shoulders and golden stars shone on her metal collar. She was a legend in many kingdoms. One of the best knights in the world, and one of the few warriors Enji truly respected.

“You understand why the old man was worried, yeah?” she asked. Her accent was so thick Shouto had trouble understanding her.

“Of course. I prepared your usual room. Feel free to stay as long as you’d like. My men are relaxing way too much since the wedding announcement. A beat-up session will bring them back into shape, if you’d like to volunteer.”

Enji and Bate laughed together.

Shouto swallowed the urge to roll his eyes. He was already annoyed to be in this fucking office. He didn’t need to see his father pretending to play at being friends.

“Alright, then! Come on, squirt! I’m starving.” She ruffled Pony’s hair, her smile full of perfect teeth.

The princess buzzed with excitement. “I have soooo many things to show you, Cathy! I traveled around the Riotto region last month and I collected so many stories and paintings, you’ll see!”

Their loud voices carried on long after the door closed behind them.

Shouto stood up to leave. His father had wanted him to see how to settle a tense political situation. He had seen enough.

A question stopped him in his tracks, “Did you get the mutt’s poem?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. Don’t waste your time writing the perfect reply but don’t fuck it up either. That tribe is smarter than you think. They’ll know if you don’t take it seriously.”

Shouto narrowed his eyes, irritated. He wasn’t stupid, Light’s sakes. He wasn’t going to threaten their new peace just because he thought the wedding was a fucking farce. Besides, “He only wrote three lines. He’s the one not taking this seriously.”

“It’s a tribe thing. They know our poems are different, though, so make sure you write more than that.”

Enji focused on his pile of papers, a clear sign the discussion was done.

Did he really waste Shouto’s time by stating such obvious shit? Gods, he was annoying.

Shouto opened the door when a spike of curiosity stopped him. “What was it?”

“What.”

“Mother’s first poem.”

If it was a tribe thing, surely his mother had only written three lines as well? What had she written about? The snow? She loved winter. She and his siblings had spent hours building snowmen, making angels, and throwing snowballs at each other.

The bastard stayed silent.

“Of course you don’t remember,” Shouto snapped bitterly.

Three lines, ages ago. Shouto probably wouldn’t have remembered either. But he hated his father, so any reason to hate him more was good in his book.

He opened the door to get out of the damn office.

“Blue amaryllis. Quiet night, mirror water. Leaning down, I watch.”

Enji’s eyes didn’t leave the document he was working on. The room was silent, other than the fire crackling in the chimney.

Shouto left the room more confused than ever.

//

The stormy rain shower crashed against the windows in angry lashes. The sky was as dark as night. Shouto couldn’t train and wasn’t in the mood to study anymore. He would have been really bored if Natsuo hadn't arrived last night, trunks full of presents from Chugôku.

“Goodness gracious, Natsu. This is heavenly!” Fuyumi had taken a sip of the kingdom’s infamous gold tea. A servant had opened the box as soon as they had settled in their private solar room. Their love for tea was the only thing they had in common, Touya included.

“Right??” Natsuo opened a bag of pineapple biscuits. “It comes from a small island, they harvest it once a year with gold shears.” He stuffed a whole biscuit in his mouth and ate like a pig, “The plantation is protected by the Emperor’s knights themselves, it’s crazy.”

A servant cleaned the crumbs he spat everywhere. Shouto couldn’t help but smile. Natsuo’s messiness was a welcome sight. It irritated their father beyond belief, so his brother got worse on purpose when Enji was there. It never failed to amuse Shouto.

“I’m guessing your life in Chugôku is good, then,” Fuyumi said, relieved.

“It’s alright. I mean, their medicine is way more advanced than ours. I have a lot to learn. And my dafu— I mean, my professor must be a hundred years old. But when he cuts things up? It’s the steadiest hand I’ve ever seen. It’s incredible.”

By things, Shouto supposed his brother was talking about bodies. Gingan healing was more about plants, potions, and pastes. Chugôku focused on organs, inner energy, and the meridian system — whatever that meant. They cut bodies up to study what was inside. That notion made Shouto a bit queasy.

Natsuo, though, had no problem with that. He was made for being a healer. Despite his reading problem, he could remember a plant’s properties in a heartbeat, and gory scenes didn’t faze him at all. He had been the only one able to stay near Touya after the bastard badly burned himself. And he was still the only one who could touch his rotten skin without flinching even once.

"I am glad," Fuyumi smiled.

"You worry too much, big sis! And enough about me. I'm not the one getting married soon, heh?" Natsuo nudged Shouto with a socked foot.

"I don't want to talk about it," he scowled, the nice, flowery taste of his tea all but forgotten.

"Ouch. That bad?"

Fuyumi studied Shouto with a worried expression. "Well, he does have to marry a barbarian from that mountain tribe..."

"Yeah, but maybe his bride won't be that bad. Mom was from a tribe, and she's smart and beautiful, isn't she?" Natsuo's gray eyes darkened scornfully. "Well, she was before Father drove her crazy."

"Natsu!" Fuyumi scolded.

He shrugged and tilted his cup to demand a refill from a servant.

He pushed the box of pastries towards Fuyumi as a small apology. Their sister really wanted their family to be as close as before, but they couldn't forgive their father.

That bastard was the reason their family was broken. He had screamed, hit, and terrorized them throughout their whole childhood, and he had locked their mother and her whole tribe on that stupid rock by using their mental sickness as an excuse. He could never be forgiven. 

"Anyway," Natsuo resumed after a sip. "He sent you a poem, right? What does it say?"

What was it again? Something about flowers? "I don't remember."

"Did you write your reply yet? We can do it together if you don't know what to say. Those lessons about Chugôku language are killing me. I need an excuse to procrastinate."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea," Fuyumi said. "Those poems should come from the heart. It's a romantic way to learn more about the other's interests."

"Yeah, but—"

The solar's door burst open before Natsuo could finish, nearly crushing a servant in the process.

"Fucking weather!! It pissed on me all the way to that damn city, fuck!!!"

"Touya!!" Natsuo shouted with a joy Shouto could not understand.

The asshole was back. Seeing how drenched he was filled Shouto with a dark sort of joy. He looked like a drowned rat. The servants hurried to wipe up the puddles he left in his wake.

"This better be the last fucking time I'm sent to that damn mountain."

"Yeah, yeah, stop complaining now. I'm here!" Natsuo grinned. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Fucking delighted."

Touya shed his wet clothes without an ounce of shame. They splattered across the floor, revealing meters and meters of rotten skin. The staples that held him together shone with rust under the chimney's light.

"That looks painful," Shouto said meanly.

"Shut the fuck up, snot bag."

"Hey. Don't start, you two," Natsuo frowned. "You don't want to upset Fuyumi, do you?"

Shouto ruminated. Touya pouted like a stupid child. He didn't recoil when Natsuo carefully prodded the rusty staples. He let him examine the damage with a docility he only ever granted to their brother.

"It does look bad..." Natsuo said. "Did Hawks give you a potion against rust infection?"

"Yeah. You can change them later, it's fine."

A servant came back with a fresh set of clothes. Touya put on the pants. He didn't bother lacing them and he skipped the shirt as well.

"Don't be a fucking pig." Natsuo aimed a knee at his groin.

Touya avoided it easily. He laced the stupid pants, thanks the Light, and the brothers slumped on the couch.

Touya took a pineapple pastry and asked boredly, "So, what did I miss?"

"We were talking about Shouto's poem for the courtship ritual," Fuyumi replied, happy to see all her siblings in the same room again.

A flicker of interest lit up Touya's eyes. "What did he write?"

"Nothing yet, so I was thinking we could brainstorm together," Natsuo said.

"I'm talking about the little barbarian, not shit-face over there."

Natsuo elbowed him, making him grunt in annoyance. The words didn’t sting because Shouto didn’t care. Why would he? Touya had hated him since the day he was born, making it very clear by tormenting him in every way possible.

"You don’t remember what he wrote, do you?" Touya snorted mockingly.

"I do, I just don’t want to tell you."

"Yeah, right. I know your stupid pea brain can’t handle three lines of words."

"Shut the fuck up, you rotten asshole!"

"Stop it, you two!" Natsuo sighed, exasperated. "You can argue all you want when we eat dinner with Father. Keep it together until then, alright?"

Shouto crossed his arms sulkily. He didn't like being scolded by Natsuo. He felt like a child who had taken it too far.

At least Touya felt the same, judging by his sour expression.

"Right!" Fuyumi chimed as cheerfully as she could. "Let's take a look at the other presents you bought, Natsu!"

"Sure!"

The servants brought his gifts one by one so he could explain what they were. Fuyumi admired each of them.

Shouto demanded more tea at the same time Touya asked for a cup. The coincidence was unbelievably irritating, but they both kept their tongues for once.

Fuyumi was the most spoiled. She received translated books, beautiful silk, colorful vases and paintings.

Touya got a small dagger carved with intricate details, as well as spirits and sweets.

Shouto was curious about what he would get. He didn't have any particular hobbies or preferences. The only thing he liked above everything else was soba, a type of noodles he always ate with his mother's pair of chopsticks because it tasted better this way.

Natsuo surprised him with a complete chugôkan brewing tea set and a box of the most prized tea in their land.

"You're giving him the most expensive tea?!" Touya whined like a baby.

"You got a box of gold tea and ten bottles of their best spirits, you ungrateful bastard," Natsuo replied, shaking the box right in front of his nose. He threw a small rectangular silk pouch at Shouto. "That's the last one for you, baby bro. You can use it and keep Mom's for special occasions."

Inside the pouch was the prettiest pair of chopsticks Shouto had ever seen. He marveled at them, his heart filling with the best kind of warmth. He had been worried about their mother's chopsticks. He had noticed a few chips in the wood and a change in color.

"Thank you. I love this gift."

It truly was the best. Shouto hadn't felt that happy in a long time. But of course, Touya had to open his fat mouth and switch to an annoying topic.

"So when is that wedding again?"

"Six weeks into spring," Fuyumi answered, because Shouto wasn't going to.

"Hm," he smirked like a lunatic. "I can't wait to see that little firecracker in a dress."

"Oh, that's right!" Natsuo remembered. "You know who he is, right?"

"He's the heir of that tribe, Natsu. He's been fighting with them since he was ten or something."

Sending children to fight was truly barbaric, but the siblings didn't focus on that. "What does he look like?"

Shouto expected a crass answer, as usual.

Touya took a sip of tea. His eyes met Shouto's for a split second, the swirl of emotions within them so strong and sudden that they were impossible to discern. "Just like his mom."

Natsuo shuddered, still haunted by the memories. Then he frowned. "Wait. Isn't she weirdly beautiful, though? Or did I twist that in my head just to cope with the nightmares?"

"Does it matter? You'll see him at the stupid wedding anyway."

"It's not stupid," Shouto scoffed, because Touya and his opinion could fuck off. "It's for peace. Something you failed to impose despite your useless campaigns."

"Something you'll fuck up because you can't shit a poem back, you stupid bitch."

"As if you could!"

Touya's lips stretched into the most revelatory smile, and Shouto instantly knew he was fucked. "Here's what you can send back, baby brother:

Lying on my bed, a beautiful offering
Doll's skin, warm red on his lips
Oh, so far from a little runt
I lift his skirt, see the most beautiful thing
The creamiest legs, the smallest hips
And further down, the loveliest asshole cunt
I worry I'll enter a shameful state of shock
For I don’t know what to do with my tiny cock"

Natsuo snorted so hard he sprayed snot everywhere. Fuyumi blushed in embarrassment. Shouto's face burned red with humiliation.

"Fucking seriously, Touya!!" Natsuo tried to scold as he wiped his nose. "Stop bullying him all the time!!"

"You laughed."

"I didn't!"

"Yeah, you did."

"Because I didn't expect the ending, you ass!"

Shouto clenched his teeth in shame and anger while his brothers bickered. Why was Touya always winning against him?

//

The dress was a hideous thing, full of lace, bows, and frills. Shouto supposed it could look decent on a girl, but on a boy?

"This is ridiculous," he fumed. He threw the garment back into the trunk and slammed it so hard it shook the entire carriage.

"It's… Furan's latest trend, actually," Midoriya corrected awkwardly.

They were in the middle of the lower bailey, capes draped around their shoulders. The beginning of winter had hit the city hard. A thin layer of snow covered the muddy ground.

"My father didn't choose this for the trend," Shouto spat venomously. His father had chosen the dress to humiliate the barbarian further. Did he realize he was humiliating Shouto as well? He probably did, but didn't fucking care.

"I don't know, Prince Shouto. That dress cost a fortune, and you saw the rest of the bride-price. I'm sure King Enji is taking this wedding very seriously."

His father could happily send tons of jewels and prized materials. The barbarian was going to die within their walls. And after his damn mother was dead as well, their tribe wouldn't last long. Enji would take everything back, then. But Midoriya didn't know that, obviously.

Shouto jumped out of the carriage. A full squad was escorting the page this time, complete with a Crusader, a Gold Wing, and a Cavalier. Squires were checking their equipment or helping them fasten the last knots of their heavy armor.

The whole land knew about the upcoming wedding. Gangs of thieves or unhappy citizens could attack the carriage, be it for the riches or as a sign of protest.

"Can't he wear something from his tribe?" Shouto grumbled, even though he knew the answer already. "Do they even wear anything?"

"They do! They have these garments: an inner layer that looks like those kimono vests they wear in the Crimson Islands, and then some kind of dress on top? I suppose it's not really a dress, more like a long piece of cloth they tie at the waist with a bow. They're family heirlooms of sorts. I mean, something they pass down from parent to child. Every feat of arms done by the wearer is woven into the clothes. It creates a wonderful pattern of tales; it's quite—"

Shouto tuned the page out. Midoriya was unstoppable when he liked something. The man didn't just like — he got obsessed.

Shouto had visited his chamber in the houseboy area and the room had been full of clutter. Memorabilia about All Might, their kingdom's legendary knight. Ethnic trash about the Bakugo, books about sindeul, haiku, all kinds of strange topics. Weird souvenirs, like a handkerchief stained with dried blood or even weirder: a flat-shaped rock.

Midoriya was an odd one, but most of the time, he was a pleasant bump in his boring routine.

"How long are you staying there?" Shouto asked, cutting right through an enthusiastic monologue about bloody tattoos.

"Oh, I'm coming back as soon as I can this time. The wedding is right around the corner and there's still much to prepare." Midoriya shuffled on his feet. "Before I forget, did you have time to write a poem for Kacc—Katsuki?"

Ah. Yes. Shouto had ended up asking Natsuo for advice. His brother hadn't been much help. After struggling for hours to come up with rhymes, Shouto had ended up borrowing a poetry book and changing a few sentences here and there.

"I promise I won't read it!" Midoriya smiled.

"I don't care if you do."

A royal guard politely approached them. "Good morning, Midoriya, your Highness. My name is Tekkô Kurogane. I will be the leader of our group for this journey. We are ready to go."

The knights were indeed in position around the carriage, horses fully armored as well.

"That's perfect, thank you very much!" Midoriya stepped on a squire's hands to sit on his mount. "I'll see you in around two weeks, your Highness!"

Shouto nodded.

"Open the gates!!!" Kurogane called, the order repeated by the door's keepers.

The two heavy beams slid slowly, pushed by the knights on duty. The large doors opened with a thundering groan and the small procession left the castle.

//

Ah, Golden Autumn

Red eyes behind copper grass

Crouching, he watches

//

What the fuck was he talking about now? Wolves again? Probably, since the Bakugo were known to fight with fucking wolves.

Shouto opened his poetry book with a sigh. The earlier he started, the earlier this chore would be done. He turned pages at random, stuck between distaste and boredom. What the hell could he write about? Maybe the seasons, since the damn mutt seemed to like them.

He wondered why this courtship ritual was even created. Fuyumi had said it was to know the other person, but Shouto didn't see how a few rhymes and three goddamn lines could help. He didn't even understand if the mutt had red eyes or if he was talking about a fucking wolf.

At least Pony knew him well enough by now. She wouldn't expect much from their courtship.

Gods.

Shouto took the first winter poem he saw. He wrote a few lines, scratched most of them, and racked his brain for decent alternatives.

Nothing came to his mind. The more he sat there doing nothing, the more he grew irritated.

It didn't help that fucking Touya wasn't leaving the castle anytime soon. The asshole hadn't provoked him yet, but hearing him laugh with Natsuo or seeing him go to the kitchen with Fuyumi annoyed Shouto to no end.

Besides, Midoriya's carriage had been attacked by thieves on their way to Sereno Mountain. While they didn't lose anything, the content of their trunks had suffered and that hideous dress had taken severe slashes.

Midoriya had assured him the Bakugo were good at sewing, more than confident that they could repair the damage, but Shouto didn't trust them one bit. He could already see the mutt walking down the aisle with a grotesque mix of frills and barbaric clothes.

Fuck. Shouto threw his feather away. He wasn't going anywhere with this — not tonight, anyway.

The mutt's poem fell to the floor when he stood up. He ignored it and slumped on his bed. A puff of perfume tickled his nose: roses and tea, a little spell Yaoyorozu had cast on his bed to cover Touya's rot.

Fire crackled in his chimney, swallowing the noisy shivering of the servants hidden in the shadows. Winter nights were quiet. As much as Shouto loved the season, he always felt lonelier.

He rolled to his bedside table. Sakuretsu-hime's tale was sitting there. Shouto carefully unwrapped it to read it for the hundredth time. He liked it a lot, especially the end, when mother and son embraced lovingly, the demon dead at their feet.

Shouto remembered his mother hugging him, but he couldn't remember how it had felt. He knew the hugs had been warm. He knew they had felt like a cocoon of safety, like a cloak full of love. The feelings would ghost against his skin sometimes but they were just that: ghosts of memories he was slowly forgetting.

Shouto unrolled the parchment a bit more. The painting of a dark face, sharp teeth, and yellow eyes stared back at him.

His stomach tightened into an unpleasant knot. He remembered the flash on his father's face — the pure terror of the whores before they burned to death.

Shouto pressed a hand against his left cheek. His skin was jagged and rough around his eye.

Why was the pain of that burn more vivid than the warmth of his mother's hugs? She had hugged him a thousand times and had only burnt him once. It wasn't fair — especially when she hadn't done it on purpose.

Hate burnt his insides. He scornfully glared at the painted demon.

His father's… their face didn't become that demonic when they were using their fire. If it had, Touya would have been delighted to show it to the whole kingdom. His rotten brother was always looking for an excuse to drag their name through the mud.

No. Their father wasn't a demon. But he was indeed a monster.

Maybe Shouto had to kill him. Maybe it was the only way to free his mother. They would be able to live with her in peace, then...

Shouto rolled onto his back. Could he kill his father? Yes, he hated the monster. But killing him was… Shouto didn't know. There was only one thing he was sure of: his father's death would only bring happiness.

//

Fire cracks the stone

White fur turns to heavy red

The victory smiles

//

There were unspoken rules in the castle. One of them was the following: if all the Todoroki princes and King Enji ate together, food was to be served in their private solar room without guests. The reason was simple.

"Hello, sweetheart." The slap on the servant's butt was as crass as Touya's leer. "You look way more delicious than this meal."

She squeaked in fear when he yanked her onto his lap.

"Stop it," Enji growled before Touya could kiss her. "You're embarrassing everyone."

"Am I, really?" Touya bounced the helpless servant on his knees. "Am I an embarrassment, Natsu?"

"Nope," Natsuo replied, his mouth full of wet noodles. "I don' fink sho, broder."

His side of the table was covered in soup and food. Shouto smiled at how disgusting it was.

Their father didn't find it funny at all. He grabbed the girl and threw her away so hard that she smashed on the floor.

"Father," Fuyumi pleaded. "Touya, please."

Enji clenched his teeth. Smoke billowed out of his hands but he returned to his plate.

"Fucking fine," Touya muttered. He emptied his wine cup in one go and tilted it to demand more.

The servant who served him shook so hard that wine dribbled everywhere. He nearly shat himself when Touya glanced at him and ran away as fast as he could.

"Heh…" Touya smirked. "What a cute little mouse."

"You're gross," Shouto mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Are you deaf? I said—"

"Are you ready to get married, Shouto?" Fuyumi cut him off.

Her grey eyes pleaded with him to stay calm. He hated Touya more than he liked Fuyumi, but anger hadn't taken over him yet, so he gave her what she wanted.

"Yes."

Winter had come and gone. The first week of spring had melted the city's thick mantle of snow and blossoms had started to color the orchard's trees.

Musutafu was buzzing with energy, more so than usual, because the wedding was right around the corner. Taverns were stocking up on food and drinks, shops were filling their shelves, and inns stuffed their storerooms and their stables with beds to make sure they took advantage of all their space.

Half of the kingdom was expected to come. Most of them had already started their journey to the capital. The royal coffers were swelling up thanks to the traveling tax they collected on their largest travel routes.

The wedding was a good thing for Ginga, but Shouto still hated the prospect of marrying that mutt.

"So what's his last poem like?" Natsuo asked. Sauce and noodles splattered on his plate, much to their father's disgust.

Shouto shrugged until he remembered the thing was in his pocket. Midoriya had come back from Sereno Mountain during his archery training, so he had stuffed the piece of paper there.

He handed the poem to Natsuo. Touya snatched it away.

"I didn't give it to you, asshole!" Shouto snapped.

"Shut the fuck up, Napper Shitter."

Their father sighed loudly. They both ignored him.

Shouto glared daggers at Touya. The bastard didn't care. He read the poem with childish glee, then frowned in a weird way.

"That bad?" Natsuo asked curiously.

"It's boring." Touya handed him the poem. "So who's the poor fucker playing love pigeon for the two brats?"

"A boy from Sasaki's house," Enji answered before Shouto could spit a reply. "The one with green hair."

"Ah, yes," Touya sneered in distaste. "That one."

"What about him," Shouto growled.

"Wouldn't you like to know? How about you take care of your shit-stained ass instead of poking your prissy nose into my business?"

A violent surge of heat spread across Shouto's face. "You're the one asking about my page and my poems, you rotten bastard!"

"I am not asking about your poem, dipshit! I am asking about his! I don't give a fuck about you!"

"Well, I don't give a fuck about you either!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!"

Fiery hands slammed against the table. Flames rushed toward the ceiling.

Natsuo and Fuyumi flinched in fear. Their reaction, conditioned by years of violence, fueled Shouto's hate.

"I will NOT tolerate this childish behavior anymore!!" their father bellowed.

Touya glowered at him with pure loathing. Their hate for the man was the only thing Shouto and he had in common. His rotten lips stretched into an ugly smile.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Father," he purred mockingly before his voice started to grow louder. "Did you want us to love each other? It's funny. If I remember correctly, you decided you wanted him the day you learned I was going to die. Isn't that right, Father? You decided to throw me away as soon as my little replacement was born. Isn't that right?? You fucking RAPED mom WHILE I WAS STILL BURNING to bree—"

The backhand boomed across the whole room.

Blood sprayed on the table, freezing Shouto, Natsuo, and Fuyumi to the core.

"Get out of my sight," Enji seethed. Monstrous flames swallowed his face.

Shouto's heart thumped against his chest. He expected to see yellow eyes peering through the inferno, but there was only cold blue.

Touya stood up so furiously his chair crashed to the floor. "Fuck you, you piece of shit."

His bloody face radiated pure venom and rage, his staples torn out gruesomely.

"You're reaping what you sowed, you got that??" he snarled, pointing at all of them. "ALL OF THIS is your fucking fault!! You got that, Daddy dearest?! So you can take all of your fucking haughtiness and SHOVE IT UP YOUR FUCKING ASS!!"

He lashed out at the nearest servant before storming from the room.

Natsuo shot a blast of magic to protect them. The burst of fire smashed against the wall of ice in a furious roar. Smoke and boiling water exploded everywhere. The servant screamed in fear. Another servant hurried them outside.

A heavy silence fell over the room. Enji stared at the table, jaw clenched, flames still dancing on his face. Natsuo wiped his dirty mouth with a shaky hand. Fuyumi sat frozen on her chair, her body folded as if to protect herself from the violence. Shouto couldn't move either, stunned by the confrontation.

Touya and their father had never fought so cruelly before. The accusations had sounded too raw, clawing at their hearts. One word in particular still rang in Shouto's ears. He wanted to scrub it out until it bled.

//

Were people not tired? A constant buzzing of screams, claps, and whistling echoed up the hill. They could hear it despite the castle's bustling activity; that's how loud the background noise was. Shouto was already exhausted.

"Congratulations, Prince Shouto. Your name will be remembered as the one who brought peace to our kingdom," a random noble droned, like hundreds before him, his vest and shirt so full of frills it had to be from Furan. He added in a conspiratorial voice as if they were close, "You're making a huge sacrifice by marrying that savage. Hopefully, your good influence will turn him into a proper citizen, just like your father's with—"

The man's wife gave his hand a warning squeeze. Shouto would have missed it if the stupid ass-licker hadn't woken him up by running headfirst into the biggest mistake of his life.

The man backtracked as fast as he could, "—j-just like your father with all the tribes, really. Our King and the others before him have all done a wonderful job integrating the barbarians into our kingdom."

They had indeed, by killing them all or forcing them to settle in small reserves that no citizen was allowed to enter. Helping them by trading or bedding them was seen as the worst taboo. Their children were sent to special schools to learn about Gingan culture and forget their wrong roots. Some, like Shinya Kamihara, even became respected officers after graduating with flying colors from those rehabilitation schools. But citizens still didn't dare get close to them, so the number of tribe people was dwindling fast. Soon, they would all disappear, the Himura clan included.

"Thank you for your words," Shouto coldly replied. Another wrong step from that prick would have been very dangerous for him and his family.

"You're welcome, Your Highness," the idiot bowed. His wife hurried him and their children toward their carriage. It joined the procession marching down the hill.

Weddings were not only a show of wealth. They were a display of power. Most of the Royal Army opened the march, the flags of their units held high and their armor polished to shine under the spring sun. They would later line up in front of the cathedral to secure a path for the nobles and ensure the Royal Family’s safety during the event.

The noble guests marched after them, destined to fill the cathedral’s benches.

The Royal Family was last. They were the ones people died to see. And Shouto, as Groom of the day, had to receive the guests' congratulations in the Great Hall. That meant sitting on a stupid chair, waiting for every single one of them to lick his ass. Shouto’s throat was parched from all the fucking thank yous he was forced to say. He couldn't wait for the chore to be over.

"Hey, baby bro!" Natsuo was a welcome sight after the endless line of faceless guests. His brother wore his official attire, a blue formal costume with a white-furred cape attached to one shoulder. Servants had tried to tame his hair, but the strands were so stubborn that not much could be done. "How are you keeping?"

"Bad. My head hurts." Musutafu and the castle had never been so loud.

"I knew you would get like this." Natsuo gave him a vial. "I made it yesterday. Drink half of it only, unless you want to fall asleep during the ceremony."

"Thank you, Natsu," Shouto smiled. His brother wasn't as gentle as Fuyumi, but he was the most caring, and the one Shouto felt the most protected with. He still remembered how he would run to Natsuo's room after a nightmare or during scary storms, and how his brother would let him sleep in his bed even if he grumbled.

Natsuo ruffled his hair with a big grin. "See you down there, baby bro!" He left, and the Great Hall became dark again.

Shouto downed half the vial as instructed. The potion was so herby it tasted foul, but Natsuo knew what he was doing. Shouto trusted him wholeheartedly, unlike the mages of the Sky Citadel.

A flutter of cloth warned him of Fuyumi's entrance. Instead of her riding outfit or her modest gingan attire, she was wearing a Furan dress. The silk was dyed pale blue and silvery white, little ribbons creating artistic folds and puffs around gold embroidery. It was a bit too much for Shouto's taste, but as expected, it looked decent on a woman. The fact that Fuyumi had inherited their mother's beauty also elevated the dress into something more than it was.

Her make-up was discreet but emphasized her beauty just enough. Her grey eyes shone behind her glasses, and a soft powdery pink dusted her pale cheeks. Her silver hair was tied up by jeweled pins, showing her swan neck, and her short heels clicked against the stone floor.

"You're pretty." It wasn't something he often noticed. Fuyumi's face was so much like their mother's that he usually didn't see his sister. He only saw a pale copy that would never be as perfect as the original.

She warmed him with a pretty smile and softly combed his hair back. The touch felt so nice. Shouto briefly closed his eyes to savor it. "Thank you, Shouto. You look very handsome as well, Mother would be proud."

The praise made Shouto feel all fuzzy inside. He wondered if their mother was watching the city from her rock. Shouto wished she was here, but she wasn't ready to see him yet.

Fuyumi walked outside, and Shouto's mood soured as soon as he saw Touya come in. The asshole's attire was all black, war medals shining on his chest and his official sword sheathed at his waist. His wild white hair had been combed back, a choice that only made things worse in Shouto's opinion. It showed his rotten skin and his lines of staples even more.

Instead of sauntering like an asshole to taunt him or do whatever the fuck he wanted, Touya was escorted by his royal guards. No. Not escorted. Guided. Touya was leaning too much on Kido, blue eyes unfocused and legs weirdly slow. Which was odd. His brother was never out of it like this.

"Apologies from His Highness, Prince Shouto," Kamiji said, the fiery royal guard strangely guarded today. "Prince Touya drank himself into a stupor last night and we're still waiting for Hawks' potion to take effect."

"Hum, His Highness is still congratulating you on your wedding, Prince Shouto," Kido added for the etiquette.

Touya was dragged outside. Shouto frowned until he caught two silhouettes hovering near the Hall's massive doors, chatting in low voices.

His father and Hawks were growing closer over the years, and he didn't know what to think of it. Hawks was one of the best, if not the best mage of the Sky Citadel. He had started as a kid from a poor family whom the Grand Magus had noticed and decided to take as an apprentice. The kid had bonded with a magic that gave him wings with blood-red feathers he could use as he pleased. He had grown into a famous wizard after that — meaning a mage who could fight — and he had become known for his good looks, his nonchalant attitude, and his prodigious skills.

It was no wonder the King himself had chosen him to take care of Touya. The asshole's sickness was a hard one to appease. Touya hated Hawks, though. But then, he didn't like anyone apart from Fuyumi and Natsuo, and he hated anything related to their father.

"Congrats on your wedding, Prince Shouto," Hawks drawled from the doors once their discussion was done. His wave was as lazy as his smile. His eyes were too sharp, however, a contrast that always unsettled Shouto.

He deployed his wings to fly out as Enji stepped inside the Great Hall. The old bastard stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading to the throne. He still towered over Shouto. That's how big and monstrous he was. "Are you ready?"

Shouto ground his teeth. "Does it matter?"

His father heaved a sigh. His crown was shining on top of his head and the medals adorning his chest were much more impressive than Touya's. Flames danced on top of his eyebrows and his beard. They also draped his humongous shoulders, a fiery collar that would remind the whole kingdom of their blessed power and thus, of their position as the Light's Chosen Family.

"Being a Todoroki is a blessing but also a curse, Shouto," the bastard said in a strange quiet voice. "You will be sitting at the head of your kingdom, but you will have to sacrifice everything to lead your people. Your desires, your values, your dreams... Nothing will matter, and anything will be done for the good of your realm, even the most despicable things." Something went through his blue eyes, too fast and too complex for Shouto to understand. "You will be your people's King, but you will be your kingdom's slave. Remember that."

He turned around, his heavy cape billowing behind him, and left Shouto dumbfounded on his seat.

What the fuck? Why did his father say that now? Did he feel the sudden urge to justify his monstrous behavior?? Well, he could fuck off. Nothing could excuse years of torments. Nothing could excuse the screaming, the beating, all the pain he had inflicted on them and their mother. Hurting her and locking her up on a damn rock wasn't for the good of the realm. It was because Enji was a monster.

Iida interrupted his scalding train of thought before he could crush his vial between his fingers, "Your Highness! Your carriage is ready."

Shouto stood up harshly. The gold thing was waiting outside indeed, the paint glistening under the sun. Shouto sat down on the velvet bench. A page closed the door and the horses took off. Shouto ruminated darkly, the wedding forgotten for now. His fire was itching to get out, the taste of the burning whores still fresh in his mind.

//

The chaos of noise was deafening. Shouto couldn't hear his carriage's wheels nor the horses’ hooves anymore. People were hysterical. They were screaming his name, sobbing and crying. What was wrong with them? It wasn't like they really loved him. He barely went out of the castle, and when he went out, it was on a horse, surrounded by his guards. He didn't chat with people like Pony did.

The ride to the cathedral felt longer than it was. Shouto had never been there before. Natsuo's wedding had been in Chugoku's Imperial Palace, and they celebrated the Light's Rising Day at Exekol's private chapel. Midoriya had said the cathedral was impressive. Shouto was a bit curious.

He wondered how the page was doing too. Midoriya had come back the night prior with the mutt. No one had seen the barbarian, as per tradition. His face could only be revealed by Shouto's hands, because husbands had to be the first ones in their bride's lives, and so the first one they saw. So Midoriya was stuck with the savage until then, catering to all his needs.

The mutt's father was also there, first to bring the bride down the aisle as per Gingan tradition, and then to confirm terms of their alliance with Enji. Not as the Bakugo's leader. As the Bakugo's representative. It was shocking to say the least. Women, or more specifically brides, were not supposed to be in leadership positions. The mutt better understand his place because Shouto was not going to tolerate barbaric behav—

Wait. Did he sound like his father?

The carriage came to a halt before he drowned in his shock. Shouto hurriedly composed himself before a page opened the door.

The crowd's screams reached hysterical levels. Helios Square was packed. People had climbed on top of the huge fountain, the imposing statue of Todoroki the 3rd used as a crude chair. They had climbed on roofs too, but no one was crazy enough to try and squeeze between the royal guards to get closer to the show.

Shouto followed Iida between the walls of guards. The cathedral was gigantic, a humongous structure of white and gold. The arches crowned by stone flames reminded believers that the holy house was dedicated to the Sun God, the first son of the Light. Huge golden domes spiked towards the blue sky and, as Fuyumi predicted, the forest of green plants swirling around the columns was in full bloom, the bouquets of colors symbolizing life, and so representing the Mother of Creation.

Shouto wasn't easily impressed, but the cathedral really was something. The interior was just as incredible. Massive stained glass warmed the stone walls with colors, orange, red, pink, and purple dancing around arches and columns. The ceiling was unbelievably high, the round domes brightened by the stained glass and painted with figures of the gods in vivid colors. Flowery vines hugged the columns and flowers adorned the rows of benches.

They were full, taken by the nobles of the kingdom and guests from other lands. The oldest mages of the Sky Citadel were also there, their aura full of wisdom, and Shouto recognized the Grand Magus himself.

The wedding didn't feel like a farce anymore. Pressure suddenly crushed his shoulders, the weight incredibly heavy. This wasn't a stupid chore he was forced to do by his father. This wasn't a joke.

This was real. His first political move. He couldn't fail this, and he had to take it seriously. The whole kingdom needed him to marry. Then his wife would disappear and their realm would finally be at peace after a century of spilled blood.

Royal guards closed the majestic doors behind him, and Shouto slowly walked down the aisle. All eyes were on him. A choir of harmonious voices sang on top of an organ's melody.

The High Priestess of Ginga stood at the center of the holy platform, right in front of the flowery altar. A yellow veil covered her hair, a gold lotus crown secured on top. Her white robe was overlaid by a golden cloak, and she held a gold scepter encrusted with jewels.

Shouto bowed to her. Right now, she wasn't one of them anymore. She was the vessel of the Light.

She nodded with a benevolent smile, then she raised her hands.

Silence fell inside the huge cathedral. No choir, no organ, no whispers. It was eerie how a place so big and so full could be so quiet. Shouto could hear his heart beating against his ribcage.

His family was sitting in the first row. His father's fire whooshed silently. Touya's eyes were completely vacant. Fuyumi was smiling softly, and Natsuo gave him a thumbs-up, the childish gesture so out of place Shouto grinned back, relaxed.

The choir started another song. The harmonious melody swirled around pillars and curled under the domes. The soft high notes sounded so pure, it was otherworldly.

A door creaked in a corner of the cathedral. All the guests twisted in anticipation, the wave of whispers drowning Shouto in anxiety.

How bad would the savage look? How hard would the humiliation burn?

Shimmering white came out of the bride's room. And then—

A huge tidal wave of hitching breath.

The bride was standing at the end of the aisle. A long, vapory veil covered his face and his dress...

It wasn't the abomination Shouto had seen before. It was absolutely beautiful.

The corset, decorated with discreet lace, hugged the tiniest hips Shouto had ever seen. The flowing skirt shimmered under the sun's colorful lights. A sparkling tiara kept the veil in place, a crisscross of silver leaves and thin branches dusted with diamonds.

Shouto couldn't believe what he was seeing. Was it really a boy under the veil? It couldn't be. The waist was too thin, the height too small. He looked smaller than Yaoyorozu!

Shouto wanted to check his father's reaction, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the bride. No one could. All mouths were agape, all eyes so big they nearly rolled out of their sockets.

The bride slowly walked down the aisle, the haunting music following his steps. The scene seared itself into Shouto's brain. He couldn't see Midoriya holding the long shimmering trail. He couldn't see the father at the man's side. He could only see his bride.

He finally reached Shouto's level. He was small. Shouto could see the top of his head, the—the beginning of a chest! What—Was it really a man? Some part of Shouto's brain realized the squeezing corset was creating the illusion of breasts, but it looked like a real chest! It was bigger than Jirou's, round mounts of flesh, deep hollow line in between, and—

Crimson burned Shouto's face. He could feel the bride looking at him through the veil, which made him flush even harder.

He wanted to see what face came with that voluptuous body. He couldn't guess any of the man's features despite the light material of the veil, apart from the shadow of a deep color—

Red. The poem had said red eyes.

A sudden blaze of curiosity shook him to the core. He wanted to tear the veil apart, but a last thread of control kept him together. He didn't know what had taken over him, but he needed to calm down. He wasn't used to feeling strong emotions like this anymore, and they were overwhelming.

He took a deep breath and finally noticed the bride's father. The man was short enough, at least compared to the Royal Family. Brown, wild hair, glasses, and a kind smile. There wasn't anything savage about him. He looked like a normal citizen, in fact. It was troubling.

The man whispered to his son in their dialect. He sounded fond. Worried too, maybe. Shouto wasn't sure how worry was supposed to look on a father's face.

The bride squeezed the man's arm before letting him go, and his father dutifully sat down on a bench.

The haunting song came to an end.

The High Priestess' hands rose again. "Dear beloved, we are gathered here, in the site of our Sun God, to join together this husband and this bride in holy matrimony."

The High Priestess went on, but Shouto couldn't listen to the sermon. He could barely look at the priestess. The urge to stare at the bride was difficult to fight. He wanted the veil up so badly. Everything inside him felt strange. His palms tingled with sweat. His magic swirled in erratic patterns inside his veins, hot and cold clashing together.

"Shouto Todoroki, son of Enji Todoroki and Prince of Gingan, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely, and wholeheartedly?"

He nearly missed his cue. "Yes."

"Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and honor your bride for as long as you both shall live?"

Well, the… savage was supposed to die, but… "Yes."

"Katsuki Bakugo, son of Mitsuki Bakugo and heir of the Bakugo tribe, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely, and wholeheartedly?"

"Yes," a low, gruff voice replied.

The word was too short for Shouto to guess the look of his face. He couldn't understand how that raspiness could belong to this feminine body, though.

"...for as long as you both shall live?"

"Yes."

"Shouto. As the Light and the Gods are watching over you, you may turn to your bride and lift her veil."

Fuck. Fuck. Shouto's heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his ears. The left side of his body prickled. His magic was going crazy inside him, and he had trouble keeping his hands from shaking.

He faced his bride and delicately lifted the veil.

His heart shot up his throat when he unveiled a small, pointy chin,

soft, peachy lips,

round, milky cheeks,

a small button nose.

Shouto froze in place, his breath punched out of his guts.

Vibrant red eyes stared at him. The stunning eyes had the prettiest almond shape.

His bride was gorgeous.

Shouto couldn't breathe. He couldn't understand, he—

It didn't make sense! The man couldn't be a barbarian, he couldn't be a savage. He was stunning, his skin so pure it looked like glass, and his soft, barely-there perfume smelled like caramel. The only wild thing about him was his hair: ash-blond spiky strands that poked out of the veil. He was so beautiful he looked otherworldly.

Was it magic? No, the Bakugo's magic had nothing to do with glamour. And tribe people didn't drink potions; they used natural remedies. No herb in the world could change someone's appearance like that.

His bride's lips twitched. The beginning of a smirk unveiled a pointy canine, a flash of wildness that the man smoothed over in a blink.

Something hot boiled inside Shouto. His fire magic crackled in his veins, the beginning of a wildfire he had trouble taming. His hands sweat like never before.

He wanted to touch his bride, shake a reaction out of him. See that smile again, push him against a wall and—

And what? What the fuck was going on in his head?

His bride faced the High Priestess again. He was wearing a dress, alone in a kingdom that wanted him dead, but he seemed so perfectly composed. Shouto didn't understand why he was slowly bursting from the inside.

He forced himself to face the High Priestess as well. She was holding a ring he was supposed to take, three colorful strings fastened around it. Shouto wiped his palms as discreetly as he could and slid the ring onto his finger.

"One string for the bride," the High Priestess said, giving the string to Shouto's bride. "One string for the husband, one string for the Light."

His bride loosely braided the strings while the High Priestess talked about their relationship and the Light's position at the center of it. Shouto couldn't listen. He could only stare at his bride's beautiful face.

His bride tied the end of the braid to another ring he slid onto his own finger, linking them with a sacred bond.

Red eyes burned Shouto, the color so vivid he drowned in them. They reminded him of rubies, a thousand shades of red glistening in a beautiful pattern.

His bride suddenly moved closer to him. His heart sped up so fast it nearly flew out of his chest. Was it time for the kiss? He wasn't ready. How was he supposed to kiss when he had never done so before? Fuck, what was he supposed to do??

Another flash of a pointy canine. His bride turned his back just before Shouto started to lean in for a kiss. He pressed his back against Shouto's chest, his body warm, real, and perfectly sized for an embrace. A strong hand took Shouto's, shooting a flash of sparkles up his veins. The hand guided him toward the long match in a golden cup.

…Right. The candle-lighting part. Shouto had forgotten about that. He didn't know what was going on anymore. The body pressed against him ensnared all of his attention. Soft clouds of caramel intoxicated him. His free hand twitched at his side, the temptation to hold his bride's tiny waist so strong and sudden he had trouble repressing it.

He let his bride guide him through everything while the High Priestess droned on and on. They lit the cathedral's candle together to represent the Light and Her faith in their unity. Shouto didn't care about the rest of their tradition. He wanted the wedding to be done. He wanted to knock his bride's tiara off and uncover the ash-blond hair because he wanted to check if the caramel scent was coming from them, or from his bride's neck, or—

His bride started to move away from him. Shouto grabbed his waist before he could think. He released it just as fast, his face flaring with embarrassment.

Red eyes glanced at him knowingly. Then his bride faced the High Priestess as if nothing had happened.

Gods.

Shouto fought to stop blushing. He couldn't believe he had reacted like that. Where the fuck was all the control he had painfully mastered through his father's training?

Fuck. What the fuck was his father thinking, right now?? The bastard was probably boiling in anger because Shouto was the one making a fool of himself while the Bakugo heir looked breathtaking.

"In the name of the Light, I now solemnly declare you husband and husband. Let no one put asunder those that have been joined together today in the presence of our almighty Goddess," the High Priestess finally declared. "You may now kiss your bride."

A surge of panic seized Shouto's throat.

Gods.

Fuck.

Fuck!

He faced his bride, completely red in the face. He had never kissed anyone before. His bride had… been fucked by three demons, Touya had said that, but Touya had been lying, right? There was no way a person so beautiful, so pure and stunning had done such a disgusting thing. There was no way…

A warm hand hugged the back of Shouto's neck. He didn't fight it. He leaned down, drowned in rubies, drowned in caramel, and suddenly, soft lips pressed against his.

Molten lava burst inside of him. His left side started to smoke and a flurry of hot butterflies furiously fluttered in his belly.

Thundering applause suddenly shook the cathedral. Shouto couldn't hear them. He was lost in the kiss, eyes closed and lips tingling against his wife's. He distantly realized he was holding a tiny waist. He squeezed it without thinking again. His wife's lips curled against his.

The hint of a sharp tooth drowned him in heat. He squeezed harder, pressed deeper against the smirking mouth.

His wife lightly pushed him away. Shouto saw a flash of pink, the tip of a tongue that swiped the corner of peachy lips.

The rush of burning fire was dizzying. He wanted to be alone with his bride now. For what, he didn't know, but he needed it.

The cathedral's bells started to ring and the choir switched to a joyous song. That meant they could go.

Shouto tugged his wife through the aisle while people cheered and clapped. He didn't even look at his family, his eyes set on the heavy doors that were slowly opening.

The sun shone brightly on them when they stepped outside. The crowd's screams were even more deafening than before. Swarms of petals ran over their heads. The lines of royal guards unsheathed their swords to create a pointed roof to the carriage, a symbol of protection Shouto didn't care about.

A page opened the door in a hurry. Shouto pushed his wife inside. Waiting for the page to gather the dress’s trail was torture. Once the shimmering fabric was finally folded, he sat down on the velvet bench and closed the door himself.

There. They were finally alone. The crowd's cheers were still deafening, but the curtains hid them from view.

A low, rough voice rumbled, raising goosebumps on his skin, "You in a hurry for something, husband?" The word was pronounced slowly, the heavy syllables and the accent burning Shouto's whole being.

His wife slowly twisted the braid that was linking them around his fingers, bringing their hands closer, inch by inch.

Shouto gulped to try and control the whirlwind of his magic and the buzzing of his belly's butterflies. He looked at his wife's face and nearly burst into fire.

The stunning man was smirking, red eyes sizzling Shouto from the inside and lips so close Shouto could smell the scent of his peachy lipstick.

Calloused fingers brushed the back of his sweaty hand. They traveled up his arm, leaving a hot, sparkly trail behind them.

A flaming, shocking urge raced through Shouto. The primal need to smash his bride against the carriage door, kiss him, rip his dress apart, and touch him everywhere stunned him.

Shouto broke their stare, his heart beating like crazy. His whole body was boiling. What was wrong with him? Why the fuck would he want to do something so beastly?? Was he going mad??? He felt like Touya, and that was disgusting, and—

He glanced between his legs in shock.

His wife raised an eyebrow at him. "You okay?"

"No," Shouto replied, shaking like a leaf.

His cock was hard. The pressure against his pants was maddening. His whole body burned with a need he didn't understand. He felt like a monster.

"What's wrong?" his wife frowned. "Is it because of me? You think I'm gross or something?"

"No," Shouto said again. "You're beautiful. You smell good. I want to kiss you, I want— I feel hot, I don't understand why I feel like this—"

Red eyes slowly fell between Shouto's legs before going back up to his flaming face.

His wife sighed. He released the braid Shouto was holding and cupped Shouto's cheek. "Calm down, alright? You're fine." His palm was warm. It felt good and soft despite the callouses.

"I'm hard," Shouto whispered like a horrible secret, confused by his body's urgent needs and his violent disgust at them.

"I know," his wife whispered back. "I'll take care of you tonight, don't worry."

Light kisses tickled Shouto's burning face. They were so soft. They felt so good. They reminded him of his mom and lightened the pressure inside his body.

"You're fine," his wife said again. "Calm down for me, yeah?"

He gave Shouto a last little kiss.

Shouto's butterflies went completely crazy. He couldn't think anymore. His bride was burning him.