Archive of Our Own

This is the third time Shouto will met future husband, and he expects it to be just as dreadful as the last two.

Their first meeting had been as children. Shouto had actually looked forward to that one. He never got to have any friends, his position being what it was. Third son, but immense magical talent that was already obvious, enough that it was accepted he would likely be the one to inherit the throne.

(Enough to have already torn his family apart in ways that could not be undone. He would not look his mother in the eyes for another decade at least. Touya’s room would remain locked for many years even after that.)

A fiance was not a friend, but it was something. Something to hold onto when he watched his siblings through high windows. The promise that one day, he wouldn’t be alone; there was going to be someone forever by his side. He spent his younger days listening to his mother’s stories, and then rereading them himself. By the time he was seven, his head was already filled with ideas of a what his prince would be.

Bakugo Katsuki fit none of them.

“What’s wrong with your face?”

Those were the first words he ever said to Shouto, followed quickly by his mother hitting him over the head.

“Mind your manners, brat.”

“Shut it, hag!”

Shouto could hear the soft huff of annoyance his father let out, attuned to all his moods. He has the feeling he may be the one to get in trouble for this later.

When the adults head inside to talk, Shouto is sent off to the gardens to entertain the visiting prince. Katsuki decides he’s far more interested in bullying the ‘friend’ he brought with him.

“You have to be the horse, Deku.”

Midoriya frowns at him. “But- um, wouldn’t it be more fun if we were both knights?”

“You can’t be a knight, stupid Deku. Knights have to be strong. Knights don’t cry when you push them.” Katsuki punctuates his point by shoving him, hard, sending him toppling into the roots of the tree they’re standing next to. “See? Crybaby.”

Shouto feels a familiar anger bubbling in his belly. “Stop that.”

Katsuki doesn’t even look at him, too busy kicking Midoriya just enough that he can’t get himself back up. Shouto grabs him by the shoulder and yanks.

“Stop hurting him!”

Katsuki turns on him immediately, shoving him the same way he did to Deku. “What, you wanna be a knight too? Gonna save the stupid loser Deku?” Shouto stumbles but doesn’t fall, pushing Katsuki right back, to barely any effect. “I think you should be the monster. You already look like one.”

Katsuki is older than him by nearly a year, bigger and taller too, but Shouto isn’t weak. Has never been allowed to be, and he’s always been up against someone bigger than himself.

Katsuki’s face is painted with a bloody nose and Shouto is short one baby tooth when their nannies finally drag them back inside. Katsuki’s mother cackles at them, while Shouto’s father gets a look on his face that tells Shouto there’s more punishment coming for him later.

They don’t look at each other again for the entire visit, and when the Bakugos leaves, so do Shouto’s dreams of a fairy tale ending.

Their second meeting isn’t until age fifteen. 

Katsuki has grown taller, not kinder, and the scowl on his face tells Shouto he has no problem in everyone knowing that.

“Prince Bakugo,” Shouto greets him politely regardless. “A pleasure to see you again. I hope your party found no trouble on your travels here.”

Katsuki returns Shouto’s bow with his own, and even presses a kiss to Shouto’s hand, which gives him a second to believe this might go well before the boy opens his mouth and mutters “Your servants do enough ass kissing, you don’t have to try so hard.”

Shouto takes a deep breath and sets his mouth in a stubborn smile. “You’re just like I remembered, aren’t you?” he comments dryly before turning heel, not checking whether Katsuki is following him.

Rather than one ‘friend’ as company, this time Katsuki brings an entourage. None of them seem to have titles that Shouto recognises; the structure of courts between their kingdoms is different enough that Shouto can’t be certain whether they’re actually anyone of importance or if the Bakugos are simply making things up. Regardless, he attempts to treat them all with suitable politeness, even in the face of a blatant lack of table manners.

“Which one of these do we use?” the blonde one whisper-shouts across the table. “I don’t wanna get executed on night one.”

“We guess,” his other friend says back, the sole girl of the group. Mina Something. “You go first, that way I’ll have better odds.”

“You go from the outside in,” Shouto hisses, before any of the adults can hear them He would rather not be lumped in with this group if he can help it. “So the small one with three tines.”

“Tines?” the blonde one asks.

“The pokey bits, Denki,” the lanky boy on his other side explains, then jabs him with his own fork. (It is, at the very least, the correct one.)

The noise Shouto makes is something between a scoff and a sigh, partially drowned in his water glass.

“Something to say, princess?” Katsuki says. The glare he’s shooting is impressive, and hypocritical – Shouto’s seen him rolling his own eyes at his friend group the whole day. Of course Shouto’s opinion is unacceptable though.

“Just glad to see you’ve found friends you have so much in common with, your highness,” he comments. A sharp pain radiates through his leg – the brute actually kicked him .

“I’d say the same to you, but I don’t think it’s possible you’ve found anyone who’s quite as much of a bitch.”

Shouto thought it had just been his memories exaggerating, but Katsuki was proving that he truly did have a way of getting right under his skin. He doesn’t lower himself to kicking, but he does grind his heel into the soft toe of Katsuki’s shoe as he spits back “Perhaps I should properly make acquaintances with your mother then.”

Katsuki kicks his foot out of the way and presses his own heel down, hard. “Yeah? You know a thing or two about crazy bitch mothers, don’t you?”

Shouto’s done a good job keeping his composure above the waist, everything not hidden by the table cloth, but he feels that comment run right through him, from sole to crown. It’s only when one of Katsuki’s friends flinches and he catches the shimmer of light reflecting off his glass that he realises he’s set his own face aflame. He extinguishes it immediately, swiping a hand through the hair as if to brush it away entirely. He pointedly doesn’t check if his father or anyone else noticed, instead stabbing into the appetiser on his plate and primly stuffing his mouth.

“Nothing to say to that one, halfie?” Katsuki goads, tearing into his bread with his bare hands.

“I’m realising it’s simply a waste of energy to attempt conversation with someone whose crowning achievement is likely to be dying like a dog during some pissing competition with his fellow savages.”

The barb doesn’t stick like he wants it to; too wordy, not well spoken, true rage still clogging up his mouth. Katsuki’s face contorts into the ugliest mocking grin.

“I should kick your ass again for that, you stuck up priss. Maybe dislodge whatever you keep shoved up there.”

“Again?” Shouto asks, neatly wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I seem to recall winning our last fight.”

For whatever stupid reason, that’s what actually riles the barbarian up. “Like hell you did. I won.”

Shouto takes the pitcher from the centre of the table and refills his own water, along with the other glasses in reach save for Katsuki’s. “Tell that to the maids that had to wash your blood out of my clothes.”

Katsuki breathes deep through his nose, his eyes alight with a passion Shouto hadn’t seen since that day when they were seven. All he’s missing is the blood staining his grin. “Give me a rematch, I’ll show you what me and my savages can do.”

Shouto holds his gaze. He imagines what he’ll look like with a crooked nose. Decides he can live with seeing that the rest of their married life together.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees. Then he picks the napkin from besides Katsuki’s plate and leans over to wipe a smudge of gravy from the corner of his mouth. “Until then, please at least pretend to be civilised.”

The next morning, Shouto leads the group of them out to the old training grounds behind the castle.

It’s a little bit of a walk, the path now thin and overgrown, but it’s private. Good for throwing around magic or nursing bruised ribs and ego, Shouto’s found. It borders the back side of his mother’s garden, which is similarly shabby and abandoned these day. Only the birds still like to visit.

Their group consists of Katsuki and his slovenly friends (Kaminari, Ashido, Sero, and Kirishima, Shouto has now memorised despite their own lack of manners) along with himself and Tenya. The squire had already made it firmly clear he was against this, though he didn’t have any of the authority to actually stop Shouto. It may be presumptuous to refer to Tenya as his friend, but there wasn’t anyone he trusted more to be his second, and the feeling was mutual enough that he knew he wouldn’t snitch.

Shouto tosses his bag aside as they approach the clear flat area used for sparring, shedding his fine coat along with it. Iida takes it from him dutifully, stepping aside with a weary look.

“Ready yourself,” he calls out to Katsuki, loosening the laces at his wrists so he can roll his sleeves up. “I don’t intend to spend more time with you than is necessary.”

“Bitch.” Katsuki wastes no time either, shucking his vest and necklaces. When he notices Shouto isn’t moving to change any of his other clothes, he gives him a strange look. “You’re going to let me ruin your finery, princess?”

Shouto frowns. “These are hardly my good clothes.” They aren’t his training clothes, no, he couldn’t get caught leaving the castle like that, but they’re still older and shabbier than anything he should really be wearing. He looks over his fiance’s own outfit, from the heavy boots and sturdy pants up to the carelessly open shirt, and understands a bit better. “I know your own standards are lower, but this isn’t anything I can’t afford to lose.”

Sero lets out a low whistle while Katsuki practically steams from his nostrils. “Alright, prick, your funeral.”

He’d been planning a civilised beginning to their match, if no other part of it, but Katsuki takes the chance to lunge at him immediately. His attack is big, showy, and it’s no trouble for Shouto to dodge it. The burst of magic that follows does take him slightly by surprise; a crackle of energy followed by an explosion from Katsuki’s hands. The ice that Shouto instinctively summons shatters in an instant.

There’s a series of whoops from their audience, all of Katsuki’s friends clearly eager for the show that’s about to begin. Shouto looks forward to making them watch him win.

Their first brawl had been sloppy, obviously. Two seven year olds with feelings bigger than their bodies and only the beginnings of combat training under their belts. Shouto remembers flailing and clawing and biting. This time he knows better. He ducks and weaves, uses ice to push Katsuki back, keep him at a distance. Mid-range has always been his specialty, but he can hold his own for a bit in those moments when Katsuki forces himself up close.

The other prince has gotten better too. He’s flashy, in more ways than one, but controlled.  There’s clearly years of training behind every movement, and it’s beyond frustrating to acknowledge that even some of that pigheaded bluster is backed up by anything at all. Quick and focused, not wasting any movements, with an obvious understanding of his own magic.

Another near miss later, Shouto steps it up a notch. The next blast of ice is bigger, encasing half the field. He’s pretty sure he hears at least one of  Katsuki’s friends yelp, but there’s no time to check because Katsuki fires back with an explosion to match. The iced ground gives Shouto a slight advantage, but Katsuki is light on his feet, using explosions to seemingly bounce above the ground instead of walk across it. If Shouto hated him any less, he might allow himself some amazement at that.

“You finally gonna stop fucking around, princess?” Katsuki yells, shooting off a rapid line of explosions in Shouto’s direction. “Where’s that fire you showed me last night?”

Shouto replies with a series of icicles sent aimed straight at his head. He has no plans of using his fire today, nor any of explaining why that is. The last thing Katsuki needs is more ammunition.

The fight keeps on at pace, occasionally flaring up into something bigger, but never more than the other can handle. Shouto’s fingers are numb. He can only imagine how the palms of Katsuki’s hands must feel, catching sight of the blistering skin. It’s something he could take advantage of with his fire – burns on burns – but he tamps that thought down under another sheet of ice.

“Come on!” Katsuki’s yelling never relents either, only growing more ragged and feral. “Stop fucking holding back! Fight me properly!”

You wouldn’t know anything about fighting proper, is the retort that comes to mind, but the cold air is burning Shouto’s lungs. He doesn’t think he could speak if he tried. He strikes again, another ice wall. They’re sloppier now, smaller and weaker. Katsuki blasts through them with ease.

“Don’t ignore me, bastard!”

Another rush of hot air, and the ice shatters around him, knocking him back. He just barely regains his balance. He knows he has to do something quick, that he can’t keep this up. That was a big attack, so maybe he can take advantage, strike while Katsuki’s off balance. His fire is waiting, begging to be used, to fight back against the chill thats taken over his body. Shouto ignores it. Everything he has goes into his next blast of ice.

It’s big, bigger than anything else he’s made during the fight, and for a good long moment, it stands strong, Katsuki buried somewhere deep inside. And in the next moment, Shouto is on the ground fifteen feet back.

“My lord!” Tenya is by his side immediately, or maybe Shouto was unconscious for a while, but he feels his squire’s hands cupping his head, checking for injuries. When he’s turned to the side, he finally sees the damage.

His ice wall is standing, albeit with a 6 foot tall hole straight through. A few of Katsuki’s friends are climbing inside like it’s some child’s plaything. I lost, he finally realises. It sinks in slowly, the disappointment and anger, but his body doesn’t have the energy for any of it, so he just lies there and lets Tenya take care of him.

When he turns his head back to the sky, he finds Katsuki’s face staring down at him.

Shouto expects some sort of speech, something long and gloating and cruel, likely referencing Shouto’s mother, or his face, or any of the other things Katsuki’s already delighted in prodding at and then some. Resigns himself to it. Closes his eyes again and waits for him to get on with it.

“What the fuck was that?”

His voice is quiet, enough so that out of all the others here, it’s only Iida that hears it too.

“Your Highness,” Iida begins, but Katsuki shoves him aside, grabs Shouto by the collar and gets right down in his face.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” Shouto’s head throbs as it’s yanked upwards off the ground. He has the energy to pull his arms up and take hold of Katsuki’s, but none to push him off. His fingers are stiff with frost, barely managing to claw at his sleeve. “I put up with your stupid dinners and your prissy little attitude all fucking day, and then you promise me a fight and then you throw it !”

Shouto’s head hurts too much to deal with this, to figure out what on earth he’s going on about. “Were you not intending to win?”

“A win doesn’t mean shit if you just give it to me, bastard!”

“Your Highness, I insist you release him!”

“Oi Prince, calm down!”

There’s Tenya’s hands on Shouto’s shoulders and Sero’s on Katsuki’s arms, but the prince refuses to release him. He’s seething, his face flushed red, and when Shouto’s vision finally stops blurring, he can see tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

“You’re not better than me.” He grinds out every word like it pains him. His palms still smell like smoke. “I don’t care how much land or money your stupid country has. If you’re not going to give it your all, I’ll kill you right now.”

“Katsuki!” Kirishima is the one who finally wrenches his hands off Shouto’s shirt, using such force he hears something tear. He holds the prince against his chest like he’s restraining a rabid dog. “You cannot say that, holy shit.”

Tenya catches Shouto before he can crack his skull again, positioning himself in front of him like a guard. Sero quickly puts himself between the two of them as well. “Cool off, man! You’re gonna get in so much trouble.”

“Fuck off, all of you!” Katsuki struggles in Kirishima’s arms, only breaking free after his other two friends have joined Sero in walling him off from Shouto. “I fucking mean it halfie, next time, I’m gonna–”

He’s only cut off by Kirishima’s hands wrapping around his mouth and staying there, even as his jaw visibly bites down. Tenya urges Shouto to his feet. “Let’s head back, your highness. Quickly.”

Shouto’s whole body aches as he stands, head hanging heavy atop his neck. Tenya is sturdy at his side, guiding him away, but he still can’t stop himself from yelling out behind him, one vicious bark. “You can try!” The only reply is wordless, a muffled scream.

Shouto avoids Katsuki as much as possible for the rest of his stay, even when his father glowers at his poor diplomacy. Tenya stays right at his side, and Katsuki’s friends always seem to be keeping an eye on him, but it doesn’t matter in the end. Katsuki himself never says another word to him, not until the day he leaves. When Shouto is called to see him off, they exchange courteous bows, and Katsuki’s smile is all teeth.

“Until next time, my prince.”

Shouto’s fist feels like it’s burning.

“Next time, yes.”

Now at age 18, the date of their marriage is fast approaching.

“Almost there.”

Fuyumi has been weaving his hair into an intricate braid for the better part of an hour. It’s grown longer over the past few years, which Shouto has found he likes, and his father hates, which really just adds to the appeal. It’s also brought him closer to his siblings again. Fuyumi has always tried to be good to him, and with even an inch of common ground to stand on, she’s pulled Natsuo in with her.

“There’s no rush,” he tells her.

“You can’t be late to your own engagement dinner, Shou.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he mutters. Natsuo laughs in support.

“We could just ditch the whole thing,” he suggests, and Shouto smiles to imagine it. Fuyumi tugs at his hair.

“No we absolutely cannot.” She get starts tying off the strands she’s working with, wrapping white ribbon around the end. “That would be quite rude.”

“Fitting.”

“Like him.”

Shouto locks eyes with Natsuo in the mirror as they both speak. It’s easy, sometimes, to be with them both. Not all the time. His siblings know each other well, and they often slip into conversations Shouto has no hope of following. But it isn’t as difficult as he thought to be their brother. He only wishes he had gotten this sooner.

“Prince Katsuki is…” Fuyumi struggles not to make a face. “I’ve heard him be polite. And he’s certainly grown up quite a bit from his last visit.”

“Yes, perhaps he’s learnt to read too.”

“Now who’s being rude.” Fuyumi appears to have finished her work. It’s beautiful, the way she’s worked it, the two colours mixing as they fall down his back. He still has his bangs, though she’s pulled them off of his face, at his own request. It leaves his scar on full display. She’s told him before that it looks dashing, and he’s decided he would like to believe her.

He watches her now as she leans down and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “You grew up far too quickly,” she speaks into his crown, the spot where the halves of his hair meet. “Maybe he just needs a chance to catch up.”

“He’s had 18 years…” Shouto mutters.

“Yes, and do you remember what Natsuo was like at 18?”

“Oi!” The man in question shouts from the other side of the room, where he was just trying to drape his cape to hide a sugar stain on his collar.

“Exactly what I mean.” Fuyumi gives him a smile, and Shouto tries his best to return it. “If nothing else, at least he’s handsome?”

Shouto scoffs. “You haven’t seen the faces he can make.”

Katsuki had arrived three nights prior, and he had been… better than previously documented. At least in public. Shouto hadn’t missed the long up and down look Katsuki had given him upon arrival, nor the scowl on his face when he’d quickly looked away after. Shouto felt quite the same, he decided.

Something that had mildly shocked Shouto was seeing his green haired ‘friend’ by his side again, smiling bright like he was happy to be there.

“Midoriya Izuku, your highness” he’d introduced himself when Shouto had sought him out. Now that they were both of age, it had suddenly become far more improper for the two betrothed to be too close before marriage, so Shouto offered his time to Izuku instead. It had taken some pressuring before he accepted, but Izuku was far more interested in everything Shouto had to tell him about the castle and kingdom than Katsuki ever had been.

“It truly is gorgeous here, your highness,” Izuku had comments as they walk the grounds, sounding more genuine than most people Shouto had ever met. “Thank you again for the tour.”

“Enough of that, I’ve already told you it’s no trouble.”

Izuku ducks his head – it was maybe the third time Shouto had told him – and before he can say it a fourth, Shouto asks what he’s really been wanting to all day.

“Are you and Katsuki close?”

To say Izuku lit up would be an understatement. “Oh, yes! Kacch- Prince Bakugo and I have been friends since childhood, though I suppose you knew that already.”

Shouto frowns. He remembers Izuku’s face tear streaked, smudged with dirt. Even the glimpse he caught of the pair packing themselves into their carriage to leave, Katsuki had shoved Izuku off the steps as he’d tried to climb in. “It… didn’t seem a lot like friendship back then.”

Izuku’s smile twists a little. “And would you believe that wasn’t even the worst of it?”

Shouto’s mood plummets, and it must show, because Izuku is immediately on the backpedal.

“Not– it was nothing awful, sorry, bad joke. I mean, it was pretty bad for a while, but Kacchan– I mean Prince Bakugo, he’s…” Izuku sighs, but it’s not an exasperated sound. More fond, familiar. “He’s grown a lot in these past few years. I always knew he was amazing, but now he’s learnt how to really show it.”

Hope is an addictive thing. The last two times he had met Katsuki, he’d hoped he’d be someone good. He’s already decided he won’t let himself hope again.

“He doesn’t hurt you anymore?”

“No, your highness. He even apologised, if you’ll believe it.”

Shouto didn’t, really.

“Well, if that ever changes, you are to let me know.” He barely knows the man, past his name and face, but it’s obvious that he is kind and patient. He has to have been. Shouto knows what it’s like to live under someone powerful and cruel. “I won’t have a husband who treats you like that, or anyone else.”

Izuku is silent following that declaration, enough to make Shouto a little embarrassed. That was a bit much, he supposes. When he turns just slightly to check on him, Izuku’s eyes are profoundly teary.

“Um, Master Midoriya, are you alright?”

Izuku nods quickly, scrubbing his hands over his eyes. “Yes! Apologies, yes. Don’t mind me, I cry about most things.” He laughs softly. “It’s just, you really are kind, aren’t you?” Shouto’s mind comes up blank for a moment. He isn’t sure anyone has ever described him that way, with so much sincerity. “Kacchan’s very lucky to have you.”

“I… doubt he would much agree with you.”

Izuku just smiles knowingly. “Not outloud, certainly. He’s never been much for words, and he doesn’t mean many of the ones he does say. He’s… difficult, sometimes. Oftentimes. But I’m certain once he gets to know you, he’ll realise how lucky he is.”

“You don’t have to say that,” he assures him. “I’m aware that Katsuki doesn’t quite enjoy my company.” He chooses his wording rather precisely, politically. “The relationship between our kingdoms is what is important. So long as his feelings for me don’t drive us to war, I will be happy.”

“Prince…” Izuku sounds exasperated, but… fond. It’s nearly overwhelming sometimes, how much emotion he puts into every expression, every word. It leaves Shouto stumbling with how stiff his own voice sounds in comparison. “You can– Kacchan…” He thinks his next words over carefully, gears turning behind his eyes. Whatever platitudes he had, he seems to think better of them. “You needn’t worry. If nothing else, Kacchan takes his duties more seriously than anything. He’d never let something trivial affect political relationships between kingdoms.”

Duties. Political relationships. That’s all Shouto’s ever been, isn’t it? Not just to Katsuki, but to everyone. Hearing it from someone else shouldn’t sting as much as it does.

“Um, I’ve been told your castle’s flower gardens are lovely in the spring,” Izuku says suddenly. “Would you have the time to show me, your highness?”

The redirect is obvious, but appreciated. “Of course. Follow me.”

“Of course you two losers would be hanging out together.”

Shouto had been enjoying a nice quiet afternoon with Izuku, sharing stories – Shouto’s from books, Izuku’s from life. He hadn’t even had to see Katsuki the day prior outside of passing glances. It had been rather pleasant. Of course the man would show up annoy him sooner or later.

“You know we shouldn’t be seen together,” Shouto comments, pointedly not looking up from his book. “We aren’t yet married and all.”

Katsuki snorts. “What, am I too much for your delicate sensibilities?”

“They are very delicate, I’ve been told.”

“I’m not gonna deflower you in a library, princess, calm down.”

A smile tugs at Shouto’s lips despite his best efforts. He keeps reading his book, ignoring the way Katsuki hovers.

“Is there something you needed, Kacchan?”

Shouto can feel him staring. He licks his thumb and turns to the next page of his book, watching the other prince’s feet shuffle in the corner of his vision.

“Just keeping an eye on you, Deku.”

“Are you bored?”

Shouto looks up at that. Katsuki is staring to the side. “No.” His eyes flick over to Shouto. “What’s that stupid face for?”

Shouto flattens out his smile again. “Nothing, my prince.”

“Are there not any meetings today?” Izuku asks. Katsuki grunts.

“Old hag won’t let me attend,” he grouses. “Told her I’d keep my mouth shut and everything.”

“Would you have?” Shouto can’t help but prod.

“Yes” Katsuki replies at the same time Izuku says “He might have.”

Katsuki scowls at him, and there’s a slight drop in Shouto’s gut, a tensing, like he might have to step between them, but all the other prince does is turn up his nose.

“You’re welcome to use the library.” Deflection is an old habit; he does it just in case. “We have plenty of books I’m told your own castle does not.”

Katsuki scoffs. “Bragging much?”

Shouto feels himself ruffling. “I was simply noting–”

“They have a fantastic chess board too!” Izuku cuts in quickly. His eyes dart between the two, a smile plastered on his face. “It’s stone, but all the pieces are glass and they’re simply gorgeous. Prince Todoroki and I played a few rounds earlier. He’s quite good.”

Katsuki eyes him over. “That so?”

Shouto nods. Maybe he can finish his book in peace. “If you two would like to play–”

“I wanna play you, princess.”

Katsuki’s grin is goading. “Do you really ?”

“I’ve beat the nerd more times than I can count. Maybe you’ll be a bit more interesting, since you’re apparently ‘quite good’.”

Shouto sighs as he closes his book, though it doesn’t sound like too bad of a plan. Izuku was a skilled player, and if Katsuki is half as good as he was bragging it… might be an enjoyable time.

“I’ll watch!” Izuku volunteers. “That way there shouldn’t be any problem with the two of you being seen together.”

Katsuki scoffs, falling into his seat at the game table. “Sure, someone’s gotta make sure I’m not bending his highness over the chess board.”

“You’re impossible.”

Katsuki is, frustratingly, very good at chess. And perhaps even more frustrating is that with Izuku’s constant interference, he also becomes somewhat decent to talk to. When they’re finally at the point where it seems one of them is likely to overturn the table, Izuku continues his work by ushering them both outside for a walk, positioning himself between them and carrying the conversation himself.

“Prince Todoroki showed me around yesterday, it’s much prettier than when we first visited. Do you remember the gardens?”

Katsuki grunts. “Those the ones when fought behind or different?” he asks over Izuku’s head.

“Different.” He takes them around the side of the castle, taking Izuku’s mention of them as a directional cue. The mention of their previous meeting is a little dizzying. So far neither had brought up their last interaction, or specifically the ‘I’m going to kill you’ part of it. Shouto certainly doesn’t plan to.  “These are the royal gardens. We hold events here on occasion.”

“As compared to what, the commoner gardens?”

“Those were my mother’s gardens,” Shouto cuts in, not wanting to give him the time to be insulting. “They’ve not been as well kept recently, with her condition.”

Izuku makes the appropriate sympathetic noise and says nothing more of it. Katsuki makes a less than sympathetic grunt, then, tentatively asks “how is your mother, these days?”

Shouto feels his teeth clench a bit, remembers how Katsuki last spoke of his mother, but still bites out “Fine, thank you. She’s been better the last few years.”

“Will she be joining you at the banquet?” Izuku asks, hesitantly.

“Likely not. She’s still not well enough for large events.” The decision was less to do with her health and more with Enji’s pride. Still, it might be for the best. Shouto wouldn’t wish dinner with his father upon most people.

“Your siblings?” Katsuki asks.

“Yes, both of them.”

“Good.”

Shouto tries to figure out what kind of dig at him that could be, but Katsuki leaves the sentence there.

“Kacchan wanted to bring his other friends with him again,” Izuku tells him in a faux whisper.

“Oi!”

“If you catch him sneaking desserts into his pockets, that’s because Kaminari still dreams about the pastries he ate last time.”

“Kaminari’s not getting shit.” Katsuki grouses, but his smile is startlingly obvious. It’s not an expression Shouto’s used to seeing on him. It certainly hadn’t been seen around Kaminari prior.  “Cause you know if I gave him week old cream puffs covered in pocket lint, he’d still fucking eat it.”

“He would,” Izuku clarifies, in case Shouto was wondering.

“Animals, the lot of them.”

That’s certainly what Shouto would have called them, though not with half as much fondness. Even as a montage of their worst behaviours plays in Shouto’s mind, hearing the way Izuku and Katsuki talk of them has him wishing that he had gotten to speak to them more. He’ll likely see them again, at their wedding and perhaps after. If he’s to be forced to spend time in the Bakugo kingdom, it would be nice to have friends.

“If you’d like,” he butts in, interrupting the quick volley of quips now shooting between the pair. “I could have the recipe transcribed for you. I assume it’s something uncommon for your country?”

“Oh, could you?” Izuku perks up. “It was something really light and airy. We really don’t have anything like it.”

Katsuki groans. “And who is that idiot gonna want to make em, huh?”

“Oh hush, you love cooking.”

Shouto almost stops walking. “You cook? ”

Katsuki’s smirk is grossly obnoxious. “I’m good at everything, princess, not just blowing shit up.”

“Fine, but cooking?” Shouto’s not sure he’s ever been allowed in a kitchen. Even when his siblings ‘made their own’ afternoon tea, it consisted of ingredients precut and rolled out to them on a serving cart for them to assemble into sandwiches. “Do you not have servants for that?”

Katsuki tips back his head and groans. “What, you get servants to play chess for you too? Read your books? It’s called enjoying yourself, halfie, try it some time.”

Cooking didn’t sound very fun, or rather it hadn’t until right this second. It wasn’t something he’d ever thought too hard about. Meals were brought to you and eaten in silence, before more important things resumed. They could taste nice, but it was a job, that’s why servants did it.

Something that had been slowly happening over the course of their afternoon was the realisation that perhaps Shouto did not actually know Katsuki much at all. He knew his face, his eyes, his fists. He’d heard him yell, smelt the burn of his magic. Seen the smoke and quietly decided that he knew enough about fire to not look further. But there wasn’t any smoke now. Just Katsuki, and the empty shape of his friends around him. A puzzle with half the pieces missing.

He wanted to see the full picture.

“Katsuki–”

“Shouto.”

Cold drips down his spine suddenly, settles wetly in his belly. He turns to meet his father’s glare, stepping to the side as he does, putting another foot between himself and Izuku, or more specifically, even further from Katsuki.

“Lord Father, good afternoon.”

The flick of his gaze tells him he hadn’t been as subtle in his movements as he’d hoped; moving had only made him look more guilty.

“Your Majesty,” Izuku squeaks, taking his own deep step back before he bows. Shouto knows it’s only proper, positioning himself behind royalty, but it leaves Katsuki within his peripheral vision, makes Shouto distinctly aware of his closeness. He hadn’t been expecting to see his father down here, nor anyone else for the most part, else he wouldn’t have come. He must have finished his work early, or maybe someone had tipped him off. Enji wasn’t usually one for calming walks.

“Your Majesty.” Katsuki enunciates his words well, much better than he had been a second ago. “I hope the day finds you well.” He even bows his head respectfully, proper manners for once. Enji barely deigns to nod in return.

“You’re aware it would not be proper to be seen with your betrothed prior to your wedding.” He speaks directly to Shouto, ignoring the guests entirely. The threat in his words is unspoken, but his face flushes with shame, knowing they’ve likely picked up on it too.

“My apologies, Lord Father. Prince Bakugo wished to see the gardens. I can assure you that Master Midoriya has taken his role as chaperone quite seriously.”

He notices Katsuki’s fist clench from the corner of his eye, but thankfully, whatever might have bothered him about Shouto’s words, he keeps it to himself.

“While I’m sure Midoriya is a trustworthy individual among his peers,” ( not trusted by me, Shouto hears) “You should know better than to attempt to circumvent my orders like this.”

“I–” I wasn’t dies on his lips. There was never anything he could do to change his father’s mind. It would only get him called childish to object. “–apologise, Lord Father. It won’t happen again.”

His companions are stiff when he turns to them, and Shouto doesn’t dare offer a smile, lest his father take it as further defiance. “Prince Bakugo, shall I send a servant to escort you further? We have several with extensive knowledge of our castle’s history.”

Katsuki’s face is equally flat, and his tone is sharp. “I’ll be plenty fine on my own, your highness.”

Whatever warmth had been coaxed from Katsuki over the course of their afternoon together is gone now. Shouto hadn’t thought his past sneering to be happy until now, see how his face looks when he isn’t. He looks exactly like he did when he won their fight three years ago, like Shouto was something to wipe off his boot.

Enji turns to leave the garden. Shouto knows he is meant to follow. He stares a second longer, hoping to glean anything else from Katsuki’s face. A single extra puzzle piece. He walks away disappointed.

They don’t skip the dinner, for all of Natsuo’s nudging.

Shouto’s hair is perfectly braided, with his circlet placed precisely on top, and Fuyumi had fussed with his buttons and fasteners until his outfit was perfectly placed. Then she and Natsuo had been swept away to their own stations.

This wasn’t to be the largest event Shouto had ever attended – he’s certain the wedding will be much grander, and just the thought tires him – but this evening is already looking to be suitably exhausting. He’s forced to remain stuck to his father’s side, greeting every duke and marquess that shows up. When Izuku arrives, Shouto tries to put as much kindness into his greeting as he can, though he doesn’t dare say more than that.

Despite staying at the castle, the Bakugos’ own arrival seems to be greatly delayed. Shouto can feel his father’s annoyance collecting like a miasma around him. He’s sure he’ll find a way to make this Shouto’s fault. 

It’s dangerously close to dinner when they finally show up. Katsuki’s parents walk in with unrepentant confidence, and Katsuki–

He looks good. Shouto had never paid too much attention to how he dressed before, but tonight they had clearly intended to make a good impression. His jacket is high collared and well fitted, something more akin to Shouto’s clothes than his own parents, though he still has furs tied around his shoulders like a cape. He wears a crown set with gems that match his eyes and lines of paint on his face that draw his gaze straight to them.

Shouto quickly realises he’s staring. He turns to Katsuki’s mother instead and tries to not get caught up in the resemblance.

Of course the pair of them are seated next to each other for the meal. Shouto sorely wishes his siblings were closer, but they’ve been relegated to further down the table, a spot for those of ‘lesser importance’. They’re on the same side of the table as he is, so he can only just see them if he turns his head. Izuku is down there too. He hopes they get along.

Katsuki barely says a word to him, and he remains silent in return. Gone is the man he played chess with in the library; Katsuki’s whole posture speaks of his annoyance, whether it’s at Shouto or the whole event. He’s never seemed the fondest of these kinds of dinners.

“Is the food to your liking?” Shouto decides to ask, part way through the main course.

Katsuki looks him over, like he’s trying to find insult in his question. “It’s just fine, your highness .”

Shouto offers him a small smile, an olive branch. “I’d recommend the herb loaves or the dumplings if you’re still looking to stuff your pockets. They should pick up less lint.”

There’s a beat of silence, Katsuki staring like he’d just spoke in tongues, before he lets out a scoff of laughter, muffled in his hand. “I’ll keep it in mind, princess.”

When speeches are done and the food is finished (or rather, King Enji decides it), their party moves to the ballroom for socialising. Shouto expects to be fending off well wishes all night, resigns himself to it, but the moment the music begins, he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“A dance, your highness?”

Face to face, Shouto is reminded again of how frustratingly handsome Katsuki is beneath his usual attitude. He’s careful to keep his face blank when he replies. “Of course.”

He has a genuine moment of curiosity about whether Katsuki actually knows how to dance, but he puts his hands in the right place, takes the lead of course, and sweeps him onto the floor.

After days of avoiding even the sight of him, they’re remarkably close to each other now. Katsuki is broad and warm and smells like soap and wine, it almost feels too indulgent. The last time they were this close, he had been promising Shouto that he would kill him. Now he’s holding Shouto gently, like a husband, as if he actually wants…

“Too close?”

Shouto blinks, shifting his gaze back to Katsuki’s face. “What?”

“Looking around like your daddy’s gonna step out and yell at you again. Am I really meant to keep a three foot distance between our torsos right up until our wedding night?”

“Oh, no.” Shouto realised what he must have looked like, and also, perhaps, what he had actually been doing. Enji was in conversation on the other side of the ballroom, and he can’t deny he’d been keeping an eye on him, hoping he’d stay there. “We’re engaged, and in public. We should be fine.”

Katsuki scoffs. “I was fucking joking, but sure. Worst case, you can always use me as your scapegoat a second time.”

Oh. “Is that what you’ve been glowering about?”

Katsuki actually stumbles for a moment, nearly knocking them into another dancing couple. “Sorry, was I meant to be fine with it?”

“It was the better move for both of us,” Shouto argues. “My father would never admonish you for such a minor sleight, not at such a crucial time.”

“Sounds like it was just better for you then, wasn’t it? He already doesn’t respect me, and now he thinks I’m trying to lead his sweet innocent son astray.” That is hardly what Enji thinks. Shouto knows without asking that his opinions would be more akin to ‘my son is weak willed, refuses to think straight’. His lie had hardly been the sleight Katsuki is making it into. “You act tough, but then you turn around and start kissing ass the moment daddy might tell you off.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” Shouto tries to keep his voice low, so as not to be overheard. “We can’t all throw tantrums until we get our way.”

“Is this a requirement for you? Being a total ass all the time?”

“Only to people who’ve earned it.”

“Aww, but I’m your fiance darling, doesn’t that count for anything?”

“Please don’t remind me.”

Katsuki gives him the slyest grin, pulling him in closer. “Oh shut up. You know you’ve always been a shit actor. It’s so fucking obvious you like me.”

“I’d sooner eat glass.”

“I saw you staring when I walked in.” Dammit. Shouto pushes his ice to his face, willing himself not to blush. “Practically drooling, my prince, where are your manners?”

“I– was simply shocked that they’d managed to make you look halfway civil for once.”

“I’ve missed your bitchy little voice, you know that?”

Shouto startles for a moment, because part of that sounded oddly… genuine? Katsuki must have heard it too, because a beat later his (only somewhat) handsome face contorts into a scowl, and then the song is over and his hands are off. He opens his mouth, but doesn’t say a word, closing it again before turning and stalking off. Shouto’s still reeling slightly from that comment, that fond tone of voice. He doesn’t realise he’s stood in the middle of the floor like a fool until couples start dancing around him.

He forces himself to the sidelines, walks stiffly and picks up the first glass of wine he can find and loses himself in it. That was only the first song of the evening. He’s in for a long night.

He manages to find his sister soon after, lets her pull him out for another dance. Hides from over-friendly nobles behind the bulk of his brother’s frame. Tucks himself into a corner with Izuku and talks folk music with him for a long while. He keeps an eye out for Katsuki, sees his blonde hair like a beacon in the corner of his vision, but he never approaches Shouto again.

Shouto… should, probably. It’s their engagement night, it would look best for their reputations to be seen together. But Katsuki is… Shouto can’t seem to have a conversation with him without getting riled up one way or another. He worries if Katsuki pulls him close a second time, he might end up hitting the man. Or maybe worse.

When he spots the servants moving around more, a sign that the next course is on it’s way, he ducks out into the corridor for a quick breath, a break before he’s sat back next to him again. He only intends to be out there for a minute, existing in the quiet and dark, but the door opens again before he gets to it.

“Shouto.”

He freezes. The same as in the garden, his father makes an imposing wall in front of him, blocking off any hope of escape.

“Lord Father.”

He hopes that will be the end of it, maybe some brief insult to his manners for being found out here, hiding like a child. He has worse luck than that though, as his father continues down the hallway with a firm “Follow me.”

The music fades as Enji leads him away, to one of the lounges down the hall. It’s one his siblings frequent, where Shouto has sat with them and played card games in the winter, finally learning all the ones they’d been taught as children. It still looks cosy in the darkness, none of the candles lit but moonlight spilling through the many windows.

 Enji’s hand tangles painfully in his hair.

“Is this a game to you?”

Shouto grinds his teeth, willing himself not to let out some pathetic noise. His father’s has a tight hold at the nape of his neck, forcing him to meet his gaze. He can feel the heat emanating from him – not enough to burn, but a reminder.

“How do you think it looks when you do nothing but bicker like a child with him, and then refuse to even be seen with him. You make both our kingdoms look like a joke.”

Shouto breathes deep through his nose. “We were just talking. Someone may have thought–”

“Do not make excuses. No matter what you were truly saying, someone did think. You need to be aware of how you’re perceived.” He sighs deeply. “I’ve taught you these things. At this point I can only assume you’re doing this out of spite.”

Shame curls in Shouto’s belly, along with anger. Indignation. Exhaustion. And his head keeps spinning with Katsuki’s words.

“-you turn around and start kissing ass the moment daddy might tell you off.”

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, to not just stand here and take it. Then he closes it again. Some battles are best not fought.

“When we return, you are to accompany your fiance for the rest of the night. If I hear a single whisper of a rumour regarding you two, you’ll know.”

The backhand that punctuates his words makes Shouto’s head spin.

“Do not make a fool of me again.”

After his father leaves, Shouto lets himself slump, lets go of his posture for just a moment. He rubs some ice into the mark on his cheek, straightens his hair as much as he can where it had been in his father’s grasp. It only takes a minute to pull himself back together; it’s a song and dance he knows well.

Just when he turns to leave, he catches a pair of eyes through the crack of the door. Not the one his father dragged him through or stormed out of, the one on the other side. Bright red eyes meet his just for a moment, and the shame that washes over him is ice cold. He fully expects Bakugo’s voice to call out, some scathing remark to fill the empty air of the room. How pathetic he must look right now, scolded like a child.

But he doesn’t say anything. Their eyes lock for a long moment, and for once, it’s Katsuki who flinches first. Flicks his gaze off to the side, then disappears beyond the doorframe, footsteps barely echoing down the hall.

Their act is back on when they sit back down for dessert. Shouto doesn’t have the energy to put as much venom into his words, and Katsuki seems to match him in kind.

The next day, when he departs, Katsuki squeezes Shouto’s shoulder in a gesture that’s… odd. Shouto thinks about that touch for the rest of the week.

Shouto hears of the war 6 months later.

Perhaps to call it a ‘war’ would be too generous – it was sudden, violent, a series of random attacks with no known motive. The enemy was scattered, only guessed to be one force instead of many. ‘War’ would assume the Bakugo kingdom has some fighting chance, even when every detail Tenya writes of casts doubt on that fact.

Shouto is in his father’s office before he truly thinks. “Do you know about this?”

Enji looks up from his paperwork with barely disguised disdain, but that’s never been enough to throw Shouto off course. “What are you on about now?”

“The attacks to the west, on Bakugo land.”

Enji goes back to his reading. “Yes.”

Shouto waits a second for something more, then another. He feels like a child the way he’s ignored, soundly and purposefully. “Are we doing anything about it?” he spits.

“I’ve made plans in case it comes our way,” his father says dryly. “So far, it’s been nothing of concern.”

“In case– they’re attacking the Bakugos. Our allies. Are we just going to let that happen?”

His father sighs, like he’s stupid. “We have not yet been formally informed of the fighting. Either they haven’t requested our aid or their messages have been intercepted. Regardless, we aren’t under any obligation to assist. Frankly, if the Bakugos cannot defend their own, they aren’t an alliance worth having.”

Shouto wonders numbly if he’s been given the same information Tenya has been sending him, or if his father is actually the idiot here. The Bakugos are powerful, that’s the whole reason behind his engagement. Whatever is coming, it’s bigger than them, and that means bigger than the Todoroki name as well.

“I’ve been engaged to one of them for thirteen years, and you’d throw all that work away now?”

“You’re younger than you think Shouto. If you ever want to run a kingdom, you have to think in generations, not your own petty years.”

“If we don’t act, they might be wiped out in less than my ‘petty years’, and then we might be next.” He tries not to think about it; Katsuki, and Izuku, and all their friends. Tenya too, should be still be in the wrong place at the wrong time. “You’ve heard what’s actually happening, haven’t you? Dragons. Curses. Other magic we can’t even identify. This isn’t some petty land dispute we’re discussing right now–”

“Shouto.” Enji glares up at him from over his desk, dripping ink from his quill. “I have made my position clear. I don’t know why you insist on acting so stupid whenever that Prince is mentioned, but perhaps their kingdom’s destruction would truly be for the best.”

Shouto breathes in, then out. Remembers the night in the game room, the day in the garden, every insult and slap and remark, and understands fully that there is no getting through to him. This has never been a fight he could win.

“Understood, Lord Father.”

Shouto leaves the castle that same night.

Shouto has a lot of time those next few weeks to ask himself why he’s doing this.

His brain rushes to create political half-truths, some sludge about alliances and benefits verses losses and public image and many other things Shouto just truthfully does not care about in this moment. He forces that voice silent; his father isn’t here, and if he were, no lie would placate him either way.

Maybe, it’s because Shouto has always wanted to think of himself as kind, despite life. To let a kingdom crumble and lives be lost simply because it might put more coin in his own castle’s vault is heinous to him, truely. There’s no small part of him that recoils at the thought of sleeping soundly in his bed knowing this is happening, but he thinks maybe that isn’t enough to account for what he’s doing now.

Overthrowing his father would be for the sake of greater good. Campaigning his councils, organising troops, sending aide, those would be the correct response. Some vague notion of ‘good’ doesn’t have you riding alone on horseback into a battle bigger than yourself.

Maybe it’s just because of that last time, when Katsuki took his shoulder and squeezed it, wasn’t cruel when he could have been. Their game of chess. The knowledge that he cooks. The foreign idea that perhaps there’s a drop of goodness in him, and he could die before it ever grows. Maybe it’s always been grown, but Shouto’s never done enough to deserve it.

Maybe, selfishly, Katsuki is simply a familiar comfort Shouto has grown used to, and some part of him still hopes to have his fairy tale ending.

Shouto has maps, but he just ends up following smoke. He’s on the road when he catches the smell of it, and once the treeline breaks he can see the plumes pushing high over the swell of the hills into the otherwise bright sky. It’s too big to be anything but a fight, too distressingly close to civilisation. He turns off the marked path to chase it.

As soon as he crests the hill, he knows Tenya was wrong. That is not a dragon.

It has nearly the right shape, leathery wings and a maw overflowing with flame, but it’s off , not quite right. There’s a true dragon on Bakugo’s side, bright red and shielding the troops as best it can with it’s flameproof scales, and to see the two creatures side by side only confirms how wrong that ‘thing’ is. The jut of it’s bones through skin, the misshapen head. When it opens it’s jaw, the teeth look blunt and human.

There’s another burst of flame, and the dragon - the proper one - pushes forward for a moment, which draws Shouto’s attention to everyone behind it. He can see the shape of the formations the army was holding, but now they’re scattered. Spooked horses and abandoned catapults litter the former frontline, and in the middle of it all, him . Katsuki’s shock of blonde hair standing out like a beacon in the carnage, yelling inaudible orders as he spouts off explosions with both hands. He’s not moving forward either. He and the dragon, and everyone else attacking with them, they’re only attempting to hold that thing off. This is a full blown retreat.

Shouto abandons his horse and takes off running.

He stumbles down the rocky slope far too quickly, before abandoning ground entirely, pushing out ice to fling himself forward instead. After a half hour of chasing smoke, it’s less than a minute until he finds himself on the battle field. He can see the monster charging up another blast, the fire building in it’s leathery throat, and he throws up an ice wall right before it hits.

The shriek it lets out is unearthly, suddenly faced with a rush of hot steam from it’s own attack hitting ice. Shouto melts the rest himself so he can get a visual on it again, see it stumbling back. Without giving it a second to recover, he calls up ice from the ground to impale it’s stomach.

Or, he tries, but the spikes shatter as they hit. Every last one, from neck to leg – there isn’t a single mark on the thing’s skin. Shouto curses under his breath. Bakugo’s army had probably already tried similar.

Another ice wall then, just enough to cover the retreating fighters while Shouto makes pillars to dart around, trying to draw the creature’s attention away. He keeps himself at eye level with it, giving them the time to escape and himself the time to think . There had to be somewhere it was vulnerable, somewhere he could hit. Not it’s body or limbs, even the undersides. It’s head looked sturdy, solid with bone, and even it’s eyes had multiple lids constantly closing over them. They follow his movements now, and when he slows, it’s jaw opens again and–

That’s it.

The fire is building up in it’s soft throat again, but Shouto’s is faster. He presses his ice best he can into his left side, then draws up all the fire he has, and lets loose.

It’s blisteringly hot, and Shouto can’t see a damn thing through it all. All he knows is that that infernal screeching is back, and that probably means it’s working. He pushes out more fire, lets all the heat he’s ever pushed down pour out now, and shoots it directly into the thing’s throat.

He feels when the pressure shifts, the lack of resistance. When he stops his jets, the creature is on the ground.

Silence settles over the field, somewhere beyond Shouto’s ringing ears. He can’t tear his eyes away from the thing. There’s a twitch in it’s limbs, one last heaving breath, and then nothing. When Shouto finally turns to the crowd, they’re all looking at him.

His head spins with the haze of heat, even as he summons ice to lower himself back down to them. He’s sweating and fairly certain he’s burned off a portion of his clothes, but he ignores it for now, focuses solely on stalking across the field to where he can see that explosion of blond moving through the crowd. A couple of soldiers move to block him off, but hesitantly, enough that Shouto can push them aside and continue, until he’s right up in front of the man he’s spent most of his life hating. Can stare him right in those stupid red eyes.

“Hello darling .”

That’s all he gets out before his vision fades out on the ground rising quickly to meet him.

“–as we get back, we’ll get Chiyo.”

“Did you know he could do that? Fucking hells below-”

“You didn’t even tell us he was gonna be here.”

“Yeah, sparky, it was absolutely planned for him to show up in the middle of the fight. Obviously I didn’t know!”

Shouto’s eyes weren’t even open yet but he shut them harder. He feels a warmth on his face, a large hand cupping around his chin.

“Hey, you awake?”

There’s still arguing in the background, but when he opens his eyes, he finds a mess of red hair hanging over him.

“Master Kirishima,” he slurs. Proper enunciation is a little beyond him at the moment. “I hope you’re well.”

“Oh, you remember me!” Kirishima’s face lights up. He’s a hard figure to forget, though Shouto doesn’t exactly recall the horns and scales he sees now. Perhaps he’s hallucinating.
“I’m all good man, nothing I can’t walk off. You’re the one we’re all worried about.”

“Is he up?” All of a sudden, bright red hair is replaced by bright red eyes, set in an all too familiar glare. “Princess?”

“You’re too loud.” Shouto closes his eyes again, only to feel a calloused hand lightly slapping his cheek. “Knock it off.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

He opens his eyes again to stare up at the stupid man he came here for. There’s a smudge of dust across Katsuki’s brow, crinkled by his scowl and speckled by flecks of dried blood that look to have fallen from his hair. There’s a bruise beneath his eyes and bandages around his arms but he’s still standing, still alive as he should be. It puts Shouto more at ease than he’s been in weeks.

“Helping,” is all he replies, the simplest way he can put it.

“We didn’t ask for help.”

“I thought you might need it regardless.”

Katsuki’s still looking at him like he’s some strange new animal that’s dragged himself in. He can feel Kirishima at his side still, his thigh pressing lightly against the top of his head. Behind Katsuki, he can see a couple of others, maybe Sero and Kaminari, but they’re too blurry around the edges for him to be sure.

Katsuki pulls his attention back with a thumb on his chin, tilting his head. “King Enji sent you?”

Shouto shakes his head as best he can. “King Enji has nothing to do with this.”

Probably-Sero pops up from behind Katsuki’s back. “Wait, he doesn’t know you’re here?”

“Well I imagine he’s figured it out by now.”

There’s looks exchanged between them all, but Shouto doesn’t even try to keep up. He just focuses on the feel of Katsuki’s hand still holding his chin, the press of his callouses. They’re nice hands, he thinks, somewhat deliriously. He has never taken the time to appreciate how nice these hands are.

They’re a little less nice when Katsuki shakes him again. “So what the fuck am I gonna do with you now?”

“Feed me, I hope,” Shouto mumbles. “I’m quite hungry. And tired.”

“Of course you’re fucking tired. You just blew a dragon up from inside out.”

“Oh, so it worked? That’s good.”

Katsuki is just looking at him, his face furrowed in the low light. Shouto figures it must be sunset at least by now.

“You’re absolutely batshit, aren’t you?”

“Well fuck you too.”

Katsuki cackles. “Where’d you get that mouth from? Christ, did you get hit in the head?”

He might have, from the feel of it. God he wants to not be awake so badly. “If you’re going to scold me, can it wait until after I’ve slept?”

“I’m not– fuck, yeah, sure halfie, take a nap.”

“Gladly.”

Shouto closes his eyes and promptly passes out again.

“Hold still.”

Despite his grousing, Katsuki’s hands are gentle as he rewraps Shouto’s bandages. They aren’t the worst burns he’s ever had, but it turns out he hadn’t quite gotten through out-firing a monster without consequences, the blowback of his own flames turning the skin of his upper arms a tacky red. Katsuki is leant in close, his breath ghosting over Shouto’s bare shoulder. Shouto forces himself to stare out the window instead.

Katsuki’s city castle isn’t like what he had imagined. It’s taller, for one, built atop a central hill that overlooks the rise and fall of the town below. It’s a nice view from up this high, even if the air is chilly on Shouto’s skin. The setting sun tells him he’s looking somewhere in the direction of his own home right now, but they’re far enough south he couldn’t see it if he wanted to.

“Done.” Shouto looks back, finds Katsuki’s face still incredibly close to his. “Don’t go picking at them, I’m not gonna keep wrapping you up like this.”

Shouto nods. “Thank you, Katsuki.”

It’s been like this since he woke up a second time. Perfunctual, a little awkward. Katsuki’s been sweeping in and out dealing with the fallout of their last battle, and probably of Shouto’s presence, so they have yet to be alone like this. Shouto was already seen to by nurses upon his arrival who told him his bandages wouldn’t have to be changed for a few days longer. When Katsuki had swept in today and told him he was doing it himself, Shouto had simply let him.

The man in question was sat quiet next to him, head hung low. He’s probably exhausted. Shouto’s had the benefit of resting for most of the last day, but Katsuki likely hasn’t slept a wink. It sits heavy on his shoulders, the lines of his vertebrae. His hair is still dusty at the back. Shouto can’t help himself as he reaches out to brush it away, finally getting to ruffle those golden strands.

Katsuki stiffens, just slightly, but let him, lets himself be pet. When Shouto pulls away, he looks up, brows furrowed on his face. Shouto has to resist the urge to touch them as well.

Finally, Katsuki asks. “Why are you actually here?”

Shouto turns away. “I already told you. I heard about the attacks and thought you needed help–”

“Bullshit.” Katsuki’s hand is on his chin, pulling his gaze back. That’s something he’s never been able to stand, Shouto looking away from him. ‘You’re not better than me.’ “You could have sat in that castle while daddy sent as many soldiers or supplies as he’d like. Why are you here?”

Shouto still hasn’t figured out an answer to that question, not one he’d be willing to say out loud. But he is here, and he has to answer for that. “I… my father was. Hesitant, to send aide, and I…”

“Decided to ride here solo? What fucking good was that going to do?”

Shouto scowls. “I seem to recall doing quite a lot, actually.” Katsuki doesn’t have a retort for that, because he knows Shouto is right. “My father wasn’t going to, so decided to handle matters personally. I was concerned–”

“About our alliance?”

“About you,” Shouto snaps. “We may not be so close, but I know if there were a battle to be had, you would be at the front of it. And if you want honesty, when I thought of you… of you dying doing something good like that, it was something I just couldn’t bear.” He meets Katsuki’s gaze, eye to eye, like the man had always wanted. “You wanted to see me put some effort in, to stand up to my father and use my fire and fight, so here I am. Happy?”

Shouto can feel the heat of his face, the rush of his heart, and it’s… exhilarating. He used to think he hated that way Katsuki riled him up, and maybe he did, but now? It’s like a breath of fresh air. Those six months between their engagement and now feel like a waking dream, a haze he’s dragged himself through, compared to the overwhelming feeling he’s experiencing now. It’s stressful and itchy and embarrassing, but when he thinks of how it would feel to be safe at home, he knows he would choose this. Every time.

And when Katsuki’s lips meet his, he doesn’t hesitate to kiss back.

It’s awkward and messy; Shouto had always assumed Katsuki would have had more experience, used his longer leash to indulge in his doomed crushes, fooled around with one of those friends of his, but now he wonders if maybe this is new to him too. That maybe Katsuki feels just as stupid and clumsy as he does, clinging to the furs around his neck.

When they break apart, Katsuki stays close, his eyes shining bright and face flushed to match.

“You know,” Shouto mumbles, because it feels like he really should mention, “our engagement might not be so certain now, with, um, everything that’s going on.”

Katsuki’s hand is on the back of Shouto’s neck, and he gives a slight squeeze. “Did you only kiss me cause we’re engaged, princess?”

Shouto leans back into it. “I… no I don’t suppose I did.”

Katsuki kisses him again, and again, lays him carefully back on the bed and keeps going until a servant interrupts them by knocking. They let her in, watch her refill their water and gift them fresh towels with bright red faces. Once she leaves, they just look at each other from either end of the bed.

“You aren’t too upset with me then,” Shouto hedges.

“I should be asking you that, shouldn’t I? Always got the idea you could never stand me.”

Katsuki almost sounds like he’s pouting. Cute. “Well,” Shouto admits, shuffling closer again. “Not until recently.”

“Wow, I’m swooning.”

Shouto rolls his eyes, daring to press their shoulders together anyway. “You were loud and angry and your visits always caused problems for me, of course I didn’t like you.”

Katsuki is quiet for a beat. Shouto knows what he’s thinking before he opens his mouth. “Your father, did he… were you always punished for the things I did?”

He shrugs. “Most often, yes. You were my fiance, so you were my responsibility.”

“What, even when we were kids?” Shouto just nods. ”That’s fucked, princess.” Shouto stays quiet. He thinks he might agree. He’s thinking about whether he should say as much when Katsuki adds on gruffly “I’m… sorry that I caused you trouble.”

Shouto just stares at him. Katsuki quickly starts turning pink.

“What, you got something to say?”

“Are you really Bakugo Katsuki?”

“Shut up!” He gives him a half-hearted shove, awkwardly into his arm pit so as so to disturb his bandages. “I’m trying to be… better, about a lot of things. I need to be if I’m going to rule. And that includes not being a dick to you for no good reason.”

Shouto remembers his talk with Izuku, the mention of an apology. His sister’s encouragements, ‘maybe he just needs some time to catch up. He’d hoped, on his travels here, that maybe there was some kindness about to bloom in Katsuki’s heart, and now he can see it was already there. He barely remembers now what he thought his prince would be like when he was young, before Katsuki came barrelling into his life. He thinks Katsuki might still not fit that image; he’s never stopped being loud and boorish, all sparks and smoke. But what he has, what Katsuki is now, might just be better.

“Well, don’t be too nice.” Shouto leans in, letting his head rest on his maybe-fiance’s shoulder. “I still have several old arguments I intend to bring up again, as well as a handful of minor disagreements.”

“Of course you fucking do.” Katsuki’s lips find his again, soft and brief.  “You owe me a rematch too. No holding back.”

Shouto finds himself smiling. “No holding back.”