Chapter Text
“You don’t have to do this,” your father says seriously, brow furrowed. He puts a hand on your shoulder, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his lips. “You know that, right?”
You put a hand over his. You can feel his bones beneath paper-thin skin. His illness is progressing, which makes this alliance all the more critical. “I know. I want to.”
“We can find another way…”
“Any other way would take either time we don’t have or waste lives I am unwilling to lose. I am a skilled diplomat, father – you know this. If this is what it takes to bring stability to our kingdom and avert a war, then I will do it gladly.” Your words are quiet, soft, yet with an underlying steel. You are resolute in your decision, and your father knows this.
“Very well.” Your father takes a deep breath, pulling a thick, expensive sheet of paper towards him. He picks up his fountain pen, dipping it in his inkwell. “I’ll let King Enji know I accept his proposal. I hope his son knows how lucky he is.”
“I’m sure he does,” you soothe, unable to hold back a fond smile. “Besides, I’ve heard he’s very handsome.”
A ghost of a smile flits across your father’s face. For a time, there’s nothing but the sound of soft scratching of pen on paper. Then, he sets down his pen, reads over the letter, and seals it with wax, stamping it with his sigil.
“It’s not a bad match, all things considered,” he says at last. “I just wish you had a choice.”
“I do have a choice,” you say quietly. “I’ve already made my decision, haven’t I?”
“A choice between marriage or war is not one at all,” your father replies, his voice somber.
“Father. Look at me.” You put a hand over his, staring him straight in the eyes. “I don’t mind. Truly.”
Your father studies you for a moment. His eyes are sad. “Your mother would be proud of you.”
You swallow. There’s a lump in your throat – your father doesn’t bring up your mother very often. You know it hurts him. She died a year after you were born. You don’t remember her, but from what everyone tells you, you resemble her in both body and spirit. It is always, always, the highest compliment you can be given. “You think so?”
“I know so. I am.” Your father gives you a tender smile.
~
There’s no time to waste. Mere days after the crow flies off carrying your father’s message, King Enji replies, setting a date for the marriage.
Marriage. You still can’t quite believe it – tensions have been rising for a while now, between Shiketsu and neighboring kingdoms, and alliances had to be forged, but you’d thought it would be done through treaties, not marriage. A week ago, your biggest concern had been averting war. Now, you’ve been frantically brushing up on your knowledge of Shiketsu, writing hurried letters in what little time you can spare. You apologize to Inasa – you’ve been friends since childhood, and you know he’s never liked Yuuei’s crown prince or its king, but, as you explain, King Enji had given your father an ultimatum: your hand in marriage for an alliance. And an alliance would strengthen Shiketsu, especially an alliance with a kingdom as powerful as Yuuei. Alliances mean power, and power means control. Control over the fate of the hundreds of thousands of people under your purview. They are your people, your responsibility. If you are what it takes to bring them stability, then you will gladly give yourself up.
They won’t be your people soon, a voice in your head whispers. Your heart aches at the thought. You’ll miss your friends, your brothers, your father. You won’t be able to take anyone with you when you go – you can’t ask that of them. You can’t ask them to uproot their lives as you uproot yours. You’d never be able to live with the guilt.
You board the ship heading to Yuuei. You’ve said your goodbyes, cried your tears, and told your father you love him. The ship sways under your feet, and you sway with it. The captain tries to get you to go belowdecks to rest, but you gently refuse. You insist on staying, on watching your homeland recede in the distance, until it is nothing more than a smudge on the horizon. It is all you have ever known. It deserves that much.
~
It takes five days to reach Yuuei. You see the mountains first, peaks disappearing into the clouds. They are enormous – you’d never imagined something could be that big. Though Shiketsu and Yuuei are neighboring islands, you don’t have much contact with each other. Yuuei is, in fact, coming out of a long period of isolation, so what you know is likely outdated. You know their land is more fruitful than yours – no, you correct yourself, Yuuei is your land now.
It hurts. All your life, you have been groomed to rule – perhaps not Shiketsu, which will fall to one of your older brothers, but for sure a province. You have been studying Shiketsu’s provinces since you learned how to speak, wondering which one will be your own. Now, all because of King Hisashi’s warmongering on the mainland, you are forced to answer: none of them. You will rule none of Shiketsu’s provinces. And, because your fiancé is the crown prince, it is likely you will never see Shiketsu ever again.
You are not angry often, but you are angry now. At King Hisashi, for creating the situation. At King Enji, for insisting it be settled with marriage and refusing all other offers. At yourself, for being so self-sacrificing that you would give up your homeland so easily.
But you stare in wonder at the mountains. They are unlike anything you have ever seen before. They make you feel small, and it is an unfamiliar though not entirely unpleasant feeling.
Perhaps, you think, it won’t be so bad after all.
~
Yuuei’s capital, Musutafu, is an inland city. You switch ships, saying your goodbyes to the captain and these last remnants of your home country, before boarding the ornate ship King Enji had sent for you. It is your first encounter with the people who will become yours.
“Princess Yagi,” the captain says, sweeping into a low bow. “Welcome aboard our humble ship. We welcome you.”
You want to invite him to call you by your given name. You want to chat with him, get to know him, learn about him. But you have read King Enji’s letters to your father, and you know he is a stickler for rules and formality, so you bite your tongue. This is not your homeland any longer. This is Yuuei, and here, you must abide by the rules set by its king.
So you smile and thank him, every inch the gracious princess, and say nothing else.
~
You arrive in Yuuei’s capital the next day. You step off the boat and every step away from the water is painful. You board a carriage and ride in it alone. The roads of Shiketsu’s capital are lined with trees. The roads of Musutafu are not. You find yourself missing the green. It had made the city come alive.
You can change that, once you’re queen, a voice whispers in your ear. You swallow. You hadn’t thought of that before – you’d been too focused on the prospect of leaving your homeland. You’d been so engrossed in thinking about what you were leaving behind that you never thought about what you were arriving to.
You will be queen. You will rule an entire country. Is that not a brilliant opportunity? Yuuei has been isolated for so long – you wonder if they have kept up with the teachings of the greatest minds at the best universities, if they have exchanged letters with famous philosophers, if they have read the works of the foremost minds of the decade. Having skimmed the law books of Yuuei… you think not. If they have been in isolation all these years, how could they have kept up with progress?
At last, the palace comes into view. You gasp. It is beautiful, all old gray stone and arching marble columns. You can see the mountains in the distance, and perhaps a lake. The path to the front gates is lined with cherry blossoms. It is spring, and the path is strewn with pink petals. The sun casts dappled shadows on the ground, and the sweet scent of the blossoms reaches you. You smile, hope rising in your chest. Perhaps, if the rest of the palace is this beautiful, you will come to love your new home just as much as your old one.
~
“Announcing Princess Yagi of Shiketsu,” the guard says, and you take a moment to thank goodness that you speak the same language. Shiketsu and Yuuei had both been colonies of the mainland, once – there is a slight accent, but the language is fundamentally the same.
You step forwards. The first thing you see is, of course, King Enji. It would be difficult not to – he is in the center of your field of view, and he is wreathed in flames. It seems the stories about his quirk are true. He regards you with narrowed eyes as you approach, and you dare not take your eyes off him.
You stop ten paces in front of him and sink into a curtsey. “Your Majesty,” you murmur, lowering your eyes. “It is an honor.”
“The honor is mine,” King Enji rumbles. “You may rise.”
You do so, straightening your legs. You are glad you had the foresight to change into a formal dress this morning – you’d been led to King Enji at the moment of your arrival. It’s modest, with a high neckline, and a deep sapphire blue for your quirk. Its hem brushes the ground as you straighten.
“This is my son, Shouto,” King Enji says, waving a hand to the side. You allow your eyes to dart to the man standing at King Enji’s side. You get half a second to look – not enough time to truly process anything beyond beautiful – before King Enji speaks again, drawing your attention.
“If I may be so forward,” he says, a hungry gleam entering his eyes, “may I ask for a demonstration of your power?”
Oh. Oh. Suddenly, everything makes sense – the proposal over treaty, the rushed engagement, the hurried letters, barely holding back King Enji’s eagerness. He wants your power.
You straighten. Far be it from you to disappoint him. He is your king now, and your future father-in-law.
“Of course,” you say politely. You wave a hand through the air, but it is only for effect. Water condenses in the air around you, forming fist-sized spheres you send swirling about your figure. You gesture, and they meld together, growing roots and a trunk, sprouting leaves, and blossoming flowers until a cherry blossom tree stands between you, smooth as glass. You hear the guards gasp and hide a smile. You hold the tree there for a moment before another wave of your hand disperses it, sending the water back into the air.
“Was that sufficient?” you ask politely.
King Enji leans forwards. The hunger hasn’t left his eyes – if anything, it’s only grown. “And you can control water in any state, correct? Even ice?”
“Yes, your majesty,” you say.
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Excellent. Excellent indeed.” He leans back, staring at you like a merchant would a pile of gold. He waves a hand, and his son steps forward. “Shouto will show you around. He will be your guide and escort, as your fiancé.”
“I look forwards to it,” you say, sending the prince a smile. You are taken aback when you are met, not with warmth, or even a cool politeness, but a cold, burning anger. Todoroki jerks his head in an imitation of a nod.
“Come,” he says curtly. The moment you take a step in his direction, he’s already walking. You are forced to decide between widening the already-wide gap between you or running, which would be unseemly. You glance at King Enji for direction, finding him rolling his eyes.
“Go on,” he gestures. “Excuse my son’s appalling manners.”
You take that as permission to run, and hurry to Todoroki’s side. He ignores you. When you leave the throne room, you take the opportunity to look at him.
He’s beautiful, just as you’d thought. His skin is pale and smooth, shining in the light of the windows, and his hair is parted neatly down the middle, white on one side, red on the other. There is a scar over his left eye, and you wonder where it could be from.
Suddenly, you are nervous. This is your fiancé – the person you’ll be spending the rest of your life with – and you seem to have offended him somehow. Were you rude? You run over the interactions you’ve had with people since stepping off the ship from Shiketsu – no, you’ve been perfectly polite. King Enji hadn’t said anything, and he seems the type to. For all that he is formal, he is also uncomfortably blunt. Perhaps he just doesn’t know what to say.
“The palace is lovely,” you say, your legs moving faster than normal to keep up. “Especially the cherry blossom trees in the front. They’re beautiful.”
“They are,” the prince says, his tone softening imperceptibly. You smile, pleased, and continue.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Your father speaks very highly of you.”
His expression instantly darkened at the mention of his father. “Does he?”
You suddenly feel as though you’ve made a terrible mistake. There is something dangerous in the prince’s tone, something… mean. You’ve never had that amount of vitriol directed at you before.
He stops in front of a door. “These are your rooms,” he says coldly. “Your things should’ve been brought in already. I’ll be back in an hour for your tour.”
He turns and leaves before you can answer. You stare at his retreating back. Your heart aches. So he doesn’t have a very good relationship with his father – you will remember that. When he comes back, you’ll have to apologize. Not a very good omen, if you are to be married.
You open the door to your rooms. They are more lavish than you’re used to, all mahogany and oak, and you can’t help but run your fingers over the low table in front of the couch. From the living room, you open another door, and find the bedroom. A brunette is already there, adjusting the curtains of the four-poster.
“Hello,” you say.
“Oh! Princess Yagi!” the brunette says, sinking into a deep curtsey. You try not to grimace, but something of your discomfort must’ve shown on your face, as the brunette’s face creases in worry. “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”
“No,” you say, and you can’t help it – this girl is so open, so friendly, the most genuine person you’d met so far – you burst into tears.
“Oh!” the brunette says again, considerably more panicked this time. She hurries to you, pressing a handkerchief into your hands. “I’m so sorry, was it something I did?”
“No,” you sniffle, dabbing at your eyes. “I just – you’re so friendly,” you whisper. “You’re the nicest person I’ve met so far, and I just – “
You’re not used to this formality. You’re used to being free and careless with your smiles, to being on first-name terms with the servants, to spending your days surrounded by people who know you and love you.
The brunette hesitates, then slowly pulls you into a hug. You sink into it gratefully. You miss your homeland. You miss its customs. You miss your family.
“I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you,” the brunette says softly, rubbing small circles on your back. “Leaving everything you’ve known.”
You swallow. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I – I didn’t mean to – “
“It’s okay,” the brunette says. As your tears dry up, she pulls back and gives you a gentle smile. “It’s okay to cry. There’s nothing wrong with it. My – one of my friends cries all the time, and that doesn’t make him any less of a person.”
You smile back, and the brunette visibly brightens. “I’m Uraraka Ochako, by the way! I’ll be your personal maid. The prince’s advisor chose me because he thought I’d make you feel more at home.”
“You do,” you say, giving Uraraka a grateful smile. “Please, when it’s just the two of us, call me [Name]. Or Princess [Name], if you must. I’m still not used to all this formality.”
Uraraka laughs. “Okay then, Princess [Name]!” she says cheerfully. “Let’s get you freshened up for your tour, then, shall we?”
You smile. Perhaps this won’t be so bad after all.
~
You change into a lighter day dress, and Uraraka gives you a towel wet with cold water. You press the towel over your eyes to bring down the swelling. You talk with her all the while, asking her her favorite things about living in the palace, about her life here, about her friends, relishing in the human connection you’re finally allowed to forge. Uraraka makes no mention of your evident oddities and, for a moment, you can almost pretend you’re back home, chatting with a new maid.
She tells you about her crying-prone friend, Izuku Midoriya, who also happens to be the prince’s top advisor. She tells you about the other maids in the palace, and you hope you’ll get to meet them soon. She tells you about her family, and her love for her parents is evident in every word. You close your eyes as she brushes your hair, relishing in her words.
“You know,” she says, as she wraps your hair in an elegant braid around your head, “you don’t have to be so formal all the time if you don’t want to.”
You open your eyes. “But the King – “
“I’ll tell you a secret.” In the mirror, Uraraka flashes you a secretive smile. “Not many of us like him much, so as long as he isn’t around, just be yourself! I think you’ll find it turns out better than you’d think.”
“Are you sure?” you ask uncertainly. This could be a trick – Uraraka might be faking everything to get close to you, to humiliate you – but you want so badly to trust someone here that you find that you don’t really care. Besides, Uraraka seems genuine. She’d held you as you’d cried. It might be foolish, but the beginning of trust is always foolish on some level. To trust someone is to take a risk, and with Uraraka, you’re willing to take that risk.
“I’m sure,” Uraraka assures you, finishing up your hair. She slides a jeweled hairpin into place. “Ta-da! What do you think?”
You look at yourself in the mirror. Your lashes are long and dark, eyes sparkling beneath them. Your lips have been painted a light pink. Your hair’s been braided around your head like a wreath, and the sapphire butterflies of the hairpin catch the light as you tilt your head. This is your favorite hairpin – it used to be your mother’s.
“I love it,” you say honestly. “Thank you.”
Uraraka goes pink with pleasure. “It was no trouble at all! You look beautiful.”
Now it’s your turn to blush. Thankfully, you’re spared from answering by a distant knock at the door.
“Oh! That must be the prince!” Uraraka says. She hurriedly powders your nose one last time before ushering you out of the drawing room and into the living room. She opens the door to the living room, revealing the prince. He’s changed as well, into a less formal getup. The navy blue not only matches the sky blue of your dress, but also emphasizes the turquoise of his left eye. When he sees you, he greets you with a curt nod.
“Come,” he says briskly, holding out an arm. It seems he’s remembered his manners, but you’re still going to apologize. You wait until the two of you are alone. He’s tense and clearly uncomfortable, which only adds to your anxiety – you don’t want to mess this up.
“I – “ apologize, you would say, but the king isn’t there to hear you, so - “I’m sorry.”
The prince glances at you. His face is blank, but you can see surprise in his mismatched eyes. “What for?”
“I think I offended you, earlier,” you say. “When I brought up your father. I didn’t realize it was an uncomfortable subject, and for that, I’m sorry.”
He blinks. “… It’s alright,” he says, after a brief, awkward pause, but there’s something softer in his tone. His muscles relax under your hand. “You couldn’t have known.”
You smile at him hesitantly. “Could we start over? I don’t want to start our relationship off on a bad note.”
His face shutters instantly at the word ‘relationship.’ There’s a clue there, somewhere, and you’ll have to think about it later, but for now, you’re busy cursing yourself for making another mistake. You’re not used to making this many missteps in a conversation – usually, there aren’t so many landmines to avoid.
The prince is quiet. You watch him from the corner of your eye as you walk down the winding hallways. You should probably pay more attention to where you’re heading, but it’s not like either of you are very invested in this tour anyways.
“You should know,” Todoroki says, “I didn’t want this.”
Oh. That’s… blunt. You can’t help a pang of hurt at his words, but you quash it ruthlessly. The prince isn’t rejecting you as a person – he can’t, since he doesn’t even know you. He’s just rejecting the situation.
“I don’t want to be here either,” you admit. “But I always knew I’d be married off for political gain. I just thought it’d be to some lord in Shiketsu, not the crown prince of Yuuei.” You give a self-deprecating laugh. “But now that we’re here, might as well make the best of it, yeah?”
The prince tenses beneath your fingers. “Aren’t you angry?”
“Angry?” You echo. You tilt your head, checking in with yourself. Are you angry? You’re so very rarely angry on your behalf. You give a thoughtful hum. You were before, but it’s since faded. “No, I don’t think so. There wouldn’t be much point, would there?”
“We’re not married yet,” the prince says quietly. There’s an ominous tone to his voice, and you push down your own hurt again. He’s angry at the situation, not at me, you tell yourself again. It helps.
“Why don’t we try to get to know each other?” you suggest. “And if it doesn’t work out, we can call off the engagement and try for a treaty instead.”
The prince gives a short, barking laugh. “My father would never allow it.”
“Mine would,” you say. “If I told him I wanted to call it off, I’m sure he’d find a way.”
“And you think my father would just let you go?” There’s something dark in his voice. It scares you, just a little, but you’re more busy feeling offended. Yuuei is an island, surrounded by water, and water is your element. King Enji’s is fire, and everyone knows what happens when fire and water meet.
“He can certainly try,” you say, lifting your chin, “but he won’t risk a war with Yuuei, not with King Hisashi on both our doorsteps.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” you say firmly. “Besides, he couldn’t stop me even if he wanted to. You saw my quirk – you really think he can keep me on an island?”
The corner of his lips quirks upwards. It’s the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen. “I suppose not.” He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “Is there anything in particular you want to see?”
Oh. He’s talking about the tour. You’d almost forgotten it was happening – you’ve just been wandering aimlessly.
“Do you have a library?” you ask. “Or gardens?”
“We have both,” the prince says. There’s a touch of warmth in his voice, and you notice it instantly.
“Do you like to read?”
“I do.”
“Have you read Nezu’s treatise on teaching?”
“My advisor has,” he admits, “but I haven’t gotten around to it yet, I’m afraid.”
“It’s very interesting,” you smile. “He has a lot of novel ideas. I helped my father implement a few, and the results have been excellent so far.”
“Tell me about them,” the prince says. “I can see if I can convince my father to do the same.”
So you do, telling him about universal free education and its many benefits. “It’s only been a few years, but we’re seeing an increase in skilled workers already,” you say, brightening. “And the economy’s improved as well. Soup kitchens have been seeing a decrease in the number of visitors, too, and ever since we’ve added free lunches, marks have also gone up, which of course means better prospects for the students.”
“You’re very passionate about this,” the prince notes.
You flush, realizing you’ve been rambling. You tend to, when you get excited. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”
“You didn’t overwhelm me,” the prince says. “This is the library.”
You’ve arrived at a set of double doors, ornately engraved. The prince opens the door and you step inside.
You gasp. It’s smaller than the one you’re familiar with, only two stories, but it has wide, arching windows that look out over –
“Are those the gardens?” you ask eagerly.
“They are,” the prince says. “Would you like to see them next?”
Your eyes drift over to the huge stacks of books. “I…”
“Or would you rather stay?” There’s a note of amusement in his voice. You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks.
“I can always come back,” you say, pushing down your disappointment. You don’t want to make him wait while you peruse the stacks, anyways. You have plenty of time. If this engagement works out, you have the rest of your life.
The thought sobers you. The rest of your life, when you’d thought – but, like you’d told the prince earlier, there’s no point in dwelling. You take a deep breath, catching a warm, smoky scent.
“I’d like to see the gardens now, please,” you say softly. The prince is more perceptive than you thought – he notices your change in mood, and you see a slight furrow appear on his brow. He doesn’t say anything though.
He leads you outside, and you try to memorize the way. You’ve never been very good at directions, though – you’ve basically bounced around the same few places your entire life. Inasa’s the one who’s good at directions.
At last, you step outside into the warm sunlight. The gardens stretch out before you. Cherry blossom trees line the path, hedges winding in the distance to form a maze. You stretch out your senses and can feel a small body of water nearby.
“Is there a pond here?” you ask.
The prince gives you a surprised look. “There is. Would you like to see it?”
“I’d love to,” you say honestly. The gardens at home had been filled with fountains and ponds and small, burbling streams. Your mother had the same quirk as you, and it’d been her that’d put so much water into the gardens. You wonder, if you’re to become queen one day, if you can do the same here.
The prince leads you through a cobblestone trail lined with rosebushes. You can feel the water drawing closer – it’s not much, but it’s more than you’ve seen since arriving. It’s a small pond, really, dotted with silver fish. There are lilypads on its surface, and the pond is ringed with stone benches and trees. There’s a small gazebo nearby, with a table and chairs. A small sigh escapes you, and you can’t help yourself. You’re so close, but you need to get closer. You approach the water’s edge and kneel down, careful not to let your shadow fall on top of the water.
“Do you like it?”
If you had a weaker constitution, you might’ve jumped. As it is, you only flinch a little. The prince’s steps are soundless – so engrossed in the beauty of the pond, you hadn’t realized he’d knelt down next to you.
“I love it,” you say softly. Water always has a calming effect on you. Carefully, you poke a finger into the water, and the minnows nibble at it curiously. It tickles, and you giggle. You gaze at the fish and let out a quiet, contented sigh. For the first time since stepping foot inside the palace, you are at peace.
“Good.”
~
That evening, you have dinner with the royal family. You meet the princess, who insists that you call her Fuyumi, and learn about the other prince, Natsuo, who’s governing an outer province. You tell Fuyumi about Shiketsu when she asks, a wistful smile on your face. Longing pulls at your heart, and you are grateful when Fuyumi deftly changes the subject.
“Has Shouto shown you the gardens already?” Fuyumi asks.
“Yes,” you say. “They’re beautiful. I love the pond.”
Fuyumi smiles. “So do I. Our mother had it added to the gardens, along with the cherry blossom trees.”
You can’t help but smile back. “She sounds lovely,” you say warmly. Normally, you’d say something along the lines of “I can’t wait to meet her,” but her absence at the table is glaring. No one’s mentioned her so far.
Across from you, the king makes a derisive sound but says nothing. You see the prince’s knuckles go white.
“I saw the library as well,” you say, changing the subject yet again. This family has so many landmines you must avoid.
“Oh, the library,” Fuyumi beams. “How did you find it? Shouto’s had a lot of books added to it recently, so it should be up to date.”
“It was Midoriya’s idea,” the prince defers. “He’s my primary advisor,” he adds to you. “You’ll meet him tomorrow.”
Ah, yes, Midoriya – Uraraka’s friend. You’re keen to meet the person who helped update the palace library – perhaps he’ll be a kindred spirit.
You spend the rest of dinner chatting mainly with Fuyumi, the prince occasionally interjecting or adding a comment. You’re not looking forward to meeting the rest of the court tomorrow, but it looks like you’ll have plenty of free time with which to go to the library. Perhaps you’ll meet this ‘Midoriya’ character there.
After dinner, the prince walks you to your room. He bids you goodnight, his voice soft and smooth, and you reply in kind. Uraraka helps you wash up and change into a nightgown before leaving. You’re finally alone, and you mull over the day’s events. It’s been hectic, but there’s a small flower of hope blooming in your chest. The prince seems alright, and you like his sister and your maid. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.