Chapter Text
"Izuku will be the one to save Frostholt."
Izuku stops in the dark corridor that had led to the west wing of the castle, where his room awaits him. The exhaustion of a long, hard training session with his wooden sword and a tree sapling had made his muscles ache, no, scream for his bed. Izuku ignored the ache of his worn body, and he turned to the candle-lit slit from the door to his mother's room. He notes how his ears have betrayed him. He curses his ability to hear. He hated overhearing others speak about him; it always ended with the young prince holding back tears. His green eyes trace the wooden doorway in the dark, its curves and lines hand-carved into mahogany. Izuku could smell the scented candle in his mother's room, lavender, and his mind went to the words that his mother had uttered. His mother was not the kind to speak about anyone behind their backs, let alone her own son. Especially her son. Izuku's hands immediately move to his face, unknown to him. His fingertips brush against his lips, tracing the small folds and wrinkles. He even pinches the pink flesh in between his fingers as he listens.
"Izuku is not some pawn to be sold off, Inko."
Izuku felt his heart drop to his feet. His handmaiden, Missuri, a wonderful woman who had raised him from a newborn, was in his mother's room, arguing on his behalf. Always on his behalf. Izuku felt the burn start to sting the back of his eyes, a frog crawling into his throat as he attempted to push down the emotions of having to be defended to his own mother. The young prince, an omega from birth, was destined to be smaller, softer, sweeter. He was always the one to be pushed around by his fellow noblemen. He was always defended. Why couldn't he be strong enough to stand on his own? His constant body training had always seemed fruitless, almost as if the gods were teasing the young man.
"I know he is not a pawn, but you know the country is on the verge of war... those damn elves from the Farlands threaten our people every day..."
"Inko, please, I know you have your heart set on marrying the young prince off to the prince of Mirage, but you have to stop and consider the young prince's feelings..."
There was a silence, a silence that filled Midoriya's heart with hope. His mother was a fantastic queen, distributing riches to the peasants and the poor who couldn't afford bread. She had saved Frostholt from war many times, even before she was married and became queen. Now, with the elves breaking the previous agreements from olden times before he was born, war was on the brink, mainly because many of the trading caravans that had been sent out of Frostholt had been late in their returns. Rumors on their lips and items missing from trade. Her son, standing just outside her door, listened intently, almost imagining her face in front of him as she thought through Missuri's, the handmaiden's, request. He saw his mother's upturned eyebrows, how they seemed to force themselves to meet, like two mountain peaks leaning toward each other from rain erosion. As the poor young prince hung onto the seconds, each passing moment felt like a thousand years. The silence between his mother and his handmaid was deafening. Inko's voice finally breaks the silence.
"I need my son to marry someone who would not hurt him... You may sail to Soulterria. Just north of Soulterria is the land of the dragons, and the barbarians... Mirage."
The prince felt his head spin with the implications of this lonely late-night conversation. He shouldn't have listened. He shouldn't have snooped into his mother's plans. He was just a prince, an omega prince who would never have inherited the throne. So why? Why did he feel that this marriage would ruin his life? He would be in a position of power, and he would have a husband who would be fruitful enough to provide him with a life he wouldn't have here. So why? Why the hell was he so angry? Why was his mind clouded with the thought of that damn otherworldly prince? Izuku had studied other cultures before, including the barbarians. He snuck books from his mother's personal library, scrolls and tomes tucked away under pillows and in bedside chests. Izuku's fingers trace his cheek, thumbing over his freckles as he takes one painful step. He finally manages to tear himself away from in front of his mother's door.
The young prince, angry at his mother's words, finally reached his room. He had torn his room apart in search of a specific scroll that he had snuck from his mother's library. It spoke of the Barbarians that lived within the mountain ranges of Mirage. He had read that those lands were nothing but wastelands, sand-filled hills that didn't have any sustenance besides the few forms of vegetation that had sprouted sparingly. Well, that and the fact that the lands were filled with ancient dragons. Massively fire-breathing FLYING lizards posed a significant threat to Frostholt, but as allies...? In his search, Izuku pushes a tome from its place underneath his bed, and he finally sees the seal, his mother's royal seal, a wax-pressed green seal with a native beetle. Its wings spread widely outwards, and its legs splayed further past its wings still. Izuku palms the scroll in his hand, then sits up abruptly, smashing the back of his head against the wooden bridge of his bedframe. He hisses at the pain that rang through his head. This new stinging pain was now in good company with the rest of his body aches. Izuku opens the scroll, his fingers tracing the words on the page, his knee on the other end of the scroll to prevent it from rolling up against his wishes. His free hand moved up to rub the back of his head; his fingers caressed the mass of green curls atop his head. Izuku hisses at the pain again before focusing his full attention on the scroll.
"The barbarians that inhabit the mountains have been known for their aversion to others who have been seen as different. Their traditions are strict, almost to an impossibly high standard. They tend to act before words are spoken. Using destructive magics to gain the upper hand in any interaction between a Miragian and an "outsider," as they have stated. There have been many reports of attacks along the Souterria-Miragain border; the lands that divide the two countries have been drawn in ink. No Soulterrian can venture into the Miragain lands without consequence."
Izuku pauses a moment, and he skips down to the very end of the scroll, skipping past a world map, food, vegetation, languages, and even the name of the prince that he was fated to marry. His eyes land on the signed seal at the bottom of the page, the author. Izuku's eyes narrow. The author of this scroll was one woman Izuku knew well. Mei Hatsume, who was a well-renowned author of the world. Her travel gadgets are sold in every trading city, every shop, every stall. Many of her written works have been used to promote her gadgets. There is no way that this scroll was anything but an ad to purchase her defensive magics. Izuku huffs and lies flat on his floor, the cold tile of his bedroom floor eating its way through the thin fabric that has covered his back and chilled his skin. The shiver that was sent up Izuku's spine made his mouth open with a soft groan of annoyance. Not only was he now cold, but he was nowhere closer to his goal of actually knowing something of his future, of that damn prince.
Izuku whines as he forces himself to sit up, looking through the scroll once more, hoping to find the answers to all his questions within a highly exaggerated text. His fingers trace over the lines as he reads, then... he hits what he had skipped earlier. The barbarian prince's name was in front of him. Under his finger was the name of the man he would marry.
"ƙąɬʂųƙı ცąƙųɠơų (Kat-su-ki Ba-ku-gou)"
Izuku feels a shudder run through his spine. This time, it wasn't the cold that had made him shiver; it was the intimacy of the moment. The name, in full, under his finger. Izuku feels his face heat with embarrassment. Then, a moment after, Izuku hates that he reacted in that way. Swearing that he would kick himself later. He was foolish for getting flustered over someone he had never met, but the name... Katsuki... it felt... foreign on his tongue. Izuku's embarrassment slowly gives way to curiosity. He reread the pronunciation of the name next to the fully legible name. It was in some strange language that Izuku had to assume was the Miragian dialect. Izuku reread the name, his fingers tracing the lettering with a strange swivel of Mei's original quill stroke.
"ƙąɬʂųƙı ცąƙųɠơų Kat-su-ki Ba-ku-gou)"
The script looked remarkably different from Izuku's regular written script. His fingers graze over to another tome on the ground that he shoved out of his way when searching for this very scroll. It was near his side on the tiles. He slips the tome open to a random page that holds no significance other than a simple comparison of letters. Then again, Izuku didn't recognize any of the shapes that sat in front of him. His eyes trace the words, the strange loops and lines that seem to draw his eyes in painful circles. Izuku looks at the name, the pronunciation of the prince's name, and back again. Izuku attempted to force his mouth to hold the shape. Instead, his mouth betrays him to the unknown sounds, and he utters the word.
'Kacchan'.
Izuku decides. He wasn't going to marry a man he didn't know. He wanted to know this faraway prince. He wanted to know the prince's dialect. His favorite color, his favorite food, his favorite flower. Did he prefer flat bread or risen bread? Did he enjoy physical training or mental? Was this prince a good fit, or was this all for his country? Izuku's mind screamed, screamed into the void. Izuku needed to know, and this scroll had now seemed to contain more questions than answers.
In a moment, just a mere fraction of a second. Izuku was already grabbing a leather satchel that his mother had bought him, one from the country of Westar on the southern border. The satchel was soon filled with traveling notes, his favorite water skin, clothes, for the cold and heat that he would surely have to drudge through, and lastly, Izuku grabbed his sword, pulling the sword's sheath around his waist, forcing his shoes onto his feet, dyed red with a very potent flower that grew near the castle's walls. His mind goes to the castle walls, the castle itself. He pauses, hand in his bag as his mind was filled with the smells and sounds of home. The scented candles in his bedroom, native floral, the soft air pulling silks to and from the windows. The night air was fresh, smelled of the moisture of a previous rain, and something strangely of home. Maybe it was the florals of his mother's garden? Perhaps it was the strange smell of the peasants and nobles below? Maybe it was all of it, every single thing that Izuku found great comfort... and isolation.
The prince's hand hovers over his bedroom's doorknob for a moment more before the door opens in a soft wood against wood sound, and the prince slips through the door, racing away from his bedroom, heading back eastward across the royal hallways. The middle of the hallway was his mother's room, to the west was Izuku's dominion, and to the east? Izuku had to hold his breath as he thought of it. His father, the late king, had inhabited that east wing when Izuku was still a child. Then, as if it were a joke from the cosmos, his father fell incredibly ill in a matter of a few days. Izuku was barely a year old at that point. By the prince's following birthday, his father was gone, and the queen ruled as a lone queen thereafter.
Izuku was already walking back down the corridor, past his mother's room. Izuku holds his breath, believing that a single breath would reveal his plans. The smell of his mother's candle was gone, replaced instead by the soft sound of his mother's snores. Izuku thinks of what his mother would think of his plans. Would she believe that she lost her son, too? Would she seal up the west wing as hard as she did the east? Would he become a memory that faded from her tongue due to her intense grief? Before he could doubt his decision, Izuku kept moving, forcing one foot in front of the other. The corridors soon turned dark; no longer were any torches lit this far east of the royal hall. Izuku shivers from the new, deeper cold.
Soon, Izuku turns from the royal corridor to the next one. Once he turns, Izuku picks up the pace, torches now lighting his way away from his father's wing, away from his mother, towards his fate. His shoes made a resounding thud that echoed through the castle corridors. He didn't care who he could wake; he felt free in the moment, the cold wind in his hair, the torches' fire pulling away from the wood as the prince wizzes past them, and the exertion of his long, aching muscles. The world around him was falling away as his goal became the only thing that mattered. He would sail to Soulterria, travel the lands to the Miragian border, and then meet the prince himself. This would settle his worries about his husband-to-be and alleviate the stress in his heart and mind. The next turn led to a spiraling stairwell, one that Izuku had run straight down, opening the wooden door to the maid's corridors. These halls lead everywhere in the castle. Many noblemen made castles with tunnels and hallways hidden behind walls. They were crafted in this manner to prevent maids and servants from being seen in the royal halls. Many royals had thought that just the sight of the people they had forcefully employed would be bad luck. Izuku obviously didn't believe as the other nobles did; many of his maids and servants were his friends. Or at least, he thought they had some special exemptions to him, but he couldn't doubt that now. He races through the maid's corridors, less spick and span, more cracks in the tiles, more wear. More evidence of life.
Izuku forces his way through the last stretch, finally emerging from the maids' courters to the entrance for the maids. It was behind the castle, facing the docks of Frostholt. The castle was designed in this manner to facilitate the movement of supplies from the docks into the maids' kitchens and courtyards. It was one of the things the old royals had thought of before even attempting to build this castle.
The air felt cold on the prince's skin. This time, when the shiver of the cold went down his spine, it was a welcome feeling. Freedom. He could taste it, and it felt like the sun had fallen from the sky, and Izuku was feeding on it. The warmth spread from his now-smile, plastered on his face, to his aching shoulders, then to the prince's waist, finally spreading the rest of the way down, filling the young man with the undeniable feeling of freedom. Izuku wished the moment not to end, but he heard it... Footsteps, like a child caught with his hand in the sweets jar, Izuku turns and sees his handmaiden, Missuri, her eyes wide at the young princess's appearance. Izuku stares upwards at his handmaiden, his eyes wide and filled with fear. He knew what this must have looked like: his sword on his side, his satchel against the bridge of his hip, his thick shoes on, meant for long travels instead of short walks. Izuku's fingers twitch at his sides, his hand moving his satchel behind him to attempt to sway Missouri, to shield his intentions. His eyebrows turn upwards as he opens his mouth, but the words catch in his throat. What the hell would he even say?
Soon, too soon, Missuri's shock fades away, and she sighs, opening her farfeather handbag from her side, then she walks to the young prince, palming a small coin purse into his hand. She pulls her cloak off her body, wrapping it around the young prince, her fingers tying it around Izuku's neck. Her eyes were filled with something that Izuku had seen before but could never place.
"If this is what you wish, I will support you, Izuku. I know you must be terrified with a future you can not control"
Izuku felt the words hit his stomach like a meal that was too large, eaten too fast. Izuku's face was a sight for his handmaiden. Confused pain ripped through Midoryia as he felt the weight of the cloak on his shoulders.
"I don't want to be married off to a man I barely know and not see you again."
His handmaiden smiles, a smile that Izuku didn't expect. Her smile was pained, too small, and it didn't reach her eyes. Izuku couldn't feel the cold anymore; the cloak around his figure aided in keeping him warm. Izuku's eyes land on his handmaidens' arms, now plastered with small bumps that remind Izuku that she must be freezing without her cloak. He attempts to move his hands from under the fur-lined cloak to push the coin purse back into Missuri's hand. To unbuckle the cloak from his neck and place it back around his handmaiden. It made his heart hurt to see his selfless handmaiden sacrifice her own comfort for him.
Missuri's hand stops Izuku's with a gentle caress, her cold fingers sending a jolt through Izuku's warming fingers. Izuku turns away from his handmaiden, he was always taught that crying was a weak thing for him to do. As an omega, his feelings seemed to have dictated his life, but as a man, they had become a burden. Izuku's mind turns back to his mother's words, which had mentioned how his marriage would save his lands. How an alliance by marriage would fix all of this... His mind is immediately silenced when Missuri's cold fingertips are placed on the prince's cheek, forcing his face forward to gaze onto her figure.
"I raised you, Izuku. I know you better than I know myself, my child. I know you have your doubts about the future. I can help you on your travels, especially since I won't be able to convince you to abandon this. So, take my cloak, take my coin, and take this letter."
Missuri's hand moves to her bag once more, pulling a small piece of paper that was sealed with the queen's wax seal. Izuku immediately knew what was contained underneath that seal. Precise instructions to help the person who possesses the letter, possibly to be given to someone with a boat.
"Your mother personally had written it to be given to the captain of any ship upon the docks."
Izuku was led to the docks of Frostholt, carrying the official, wax-sealed letter that his mother had signed. The air now smelt of salt and fish. No, fish guts. Rotten and old, it left a bad taste in any passerby's mouth. Izuku couldn't wrap his head around the thought that this was happening. Previously, he had no issues with the thought process of going to Soulterria. Now, as he moved through Frostholts' dock systems, he felt like it was an impossibility. Maybe the official letter in his palm made it feel all too real. Izuku forces the emotions of fear down as he focuses on the docks. Each ship that set sail to the sea had its advantages and disadvantages. Izuku had studied these ships for some time, fantasizing about sailing away to a distant place. Of course, he had grown out of that phase. Izuku's foot bumps into the foot of a man on the dock, resting against a support beam that had held the docks up. That man looks up at the prince with an annoyed expression. His hair was black, and his eyes slanted in a way that suggested he was a foreigner who had recently arrived in Frostholt, primarily to conduct business. Frostholt was a trading hub for all boats that dared to dock here. Of course, Izuku didn't expect the man to be intimidating, and he made a soft yelp sound that he wished he hadn't made. He would kick himself later for that, and as the man eyes the prince up and down, his eyes land on the letter within Izuku's fingers, and he motions to it with just his head.
"Now what in the hell is a small thing like you doing with an official letter?"
Izuku immediately thought through what he would say, but then, the advantage of this was like a brick to the face. No foreigner would know what the prince of Frostholt would look like. The way this man just looked at Izuku proved that. No citizen would ever dare look at a royal in that way. Izuku stands taller, his head held high, and he moves his hand out to the man still resting against the weight-bearing pillar.
"I have instructions from the queen to set sail to Soulterria. I need a ship and an experienced captain." Izuku stated with a prideful expression. Hoping that his mother's influence would help him in this moment.
"Whatcha gonna pay me?"
Izuku's face drops a bit, and he blinks away the surprise on his face. Of course, a foreigner would also not believe the queen's word would be law. Why didn't Izuku think of that before? Izuku's fingers trace his bag, then he slides his hand to his coin purse that was tied to his belt, and Izuku pulls a few gold pieces from the small sack, enough to pay for the sail twice over.
The man eyes the gold shimmering within Izuku's hands, and he stands without a second thought, inviting the small boy aboard his ship. The captain smiles, the money dictating his mood very obviously. The man towered over Izuku; his body was long and lean, lacking definition, yet covered in muscle from head to toe. His eyes were dopy, and his smile would look creepy and otherworldly if Izuku were looking directly at him. The man wore rags that wrapped his body; they seemed sun-bleached and saltwater-worn. The man wore strange necklaces that clinked together with a soft, soothing sound. The man smiles as he leads Izuku to a small room under the deck. There were a few others already there; many appeared to be from other parts of the world. Izuku recognizes an elf, most likely from the Farlands, an Orc from the south, somewhere in the south, the name of the country was on the tip of his tongue... and the last person within this cramped closet sized room was a human, sitting on the top bunk of a bunkbed that was against the wall next to a porthole—the room smelt of sweat, salt, and a strange smell that izuku didn't know.
"This little one has instructions from his queen to be sailed to Soulterria. Fortunately, you all are now in even more company. So why don't you all introduce the new matey then settle in for the night?"
The orc huffs, more of chuffs, due to his thick, long tusks that protrude from his lower jaw, forcing his lips away. All his teeth were visible. The orc was tall and muscular, with strange markings over his hands as he wiped his face. Could they have been tattoos? The orc looks, no, glares at Izuku with something close to annoyance. It was almost as if he saw the young boy as a burden.
"I have no reason to bestow you my name, you human scum. Why don't you choose a bed and stay quiet? Captain -- Sero, is this really what you are doing now? Offering a bed to any stowaway that can forage a letter?"
Sero pauses, a breath is taken, and the captain's eyes glance at the new mate upon his ship. His eyes danced over the small man, the smell of him giving him a headache. As a beta himself, Sero couldn't stay near this new guy. The poor thing must have been an omega, since the smell was so intense off of him. Sero thought of boarding the small boy in his room, perhaps pulling one of the hammocks that lined every wall in the small crew room. Then he glanced back at the crew he had on hand. The favoritism could pose a threat to the small male.
At this point, Izuku's head was spinning; this was not something he was used to. The ruthlessness of words was usually softened under passive aggressiveness. The maids, servants, and enslaved people were always those who smiled through the pain, no matter how annoying his requests were. Instead, in this moment, his presence was viewed as a burden. Izuku stares at his shoes, too red, too unscuffed, too perfect. He had a lot to learn.
"Don't be like that, Plzum. This little one needs a ride, don't be cruel." The captain finally speaks to the orc. The orc rolls his eyes and turns away.
Izuku makes a mental note of the names: the captain's name was Sero, and the orc's name was Plzum. He forces the names to stew in his head for a moment to attempt to memorize them. He keeps his head down as he moves deeper into the room, choosing a small hammock that was attached to a wall haphazardly. The nails squeal and protest against Izuku's weight, but they don't give way as Izuku settles into the itchy, salt-smelling ropes. Sero's eyes glance over the whole room, counting heads before he wishes the entire room a good night. Not really speaking to anyone in particular.
"Good night, Captain Sero."
Izuku's words cause the captain to stop, looking at the young prince; his expression softens just a touch, as if he understands the naivety.
"Night, kid."
The following days were hell for the omega prince. The smell of that damn alpha orc made it hard to be around the asshole. Not that he smelled good, but his scent was overpowering. He smelt mostly of soot, ashes from a burning fire that made Izuku's eyes burn. The pheromones from him made Izuku's head spin, and the moments away from the orc became Izuku's lifeline. Sero had the travellers on his ship assist him with various tasks around the boat. Tying ropes, mending old fishing nets, even scrubbing the deck til it shone in the day. Izuku was always eager to help, but the physical labor proved to be difficult. Izuku had realized that he had a straightforward life, one dedicated to his studies and getting stronger. He was never burdened with the dishes, the labor, the struggle, or the beating sun without relief.
Izuku's hands were cracked from the scrub brushes that he had been using. The sun was high above their heads. Mirru, a small elf from the far lands, moves her hand to her forehead as she glares up at the sun, angry at the star for rising.
"Gods, isn't it super hot today, Midoriya?"
Izuku and Mirru had become quick friends; Izuku smiled in agreement with his female friend. She smelt of a strange, dark candy that he had once tried while traveling through the Farlands when he was young. Before the pressure between Frostholt and the Farlands had stalled the trading, travel over the borders had also stalled soon after. Izuku became increasingly aware of the situation he was in, working alongside one of the people that his own country had grown to demonize. Izuku sees Mirru's hands, cracked from the saltwater wash that Captain Sero had given them to scrub the deck. Izuku's eyes glanced back down at his hands as he moved the scrub brush from the water pail at his side to the deck. The wood was almost immaculate, just missing the last few touches near the bow of the ship. Izuku's hands work the wood, forcing the brush back and forth. Izuku wondered if he should mention the pressure between the two lands that he and Mirru came from. Should he hate her because of where she came from? Izuku's mind was filled with doubts. Mirru had been nothing but kind, even the previous night offering her bottom bunk to him when Izuku spent most of the night tossing and turning. Izuku opens his mouth and takes a breath to say something to Mirru. Mirru's hands... her hands were as cracked as his. How was he so foolish to even debate bringing the topic up? At that moment, they were both equals. Scrubbing a deck.
Sero soon was among the green-haired boy and the elf. He hands out rations, dried salted meat... or was it fish? Dried nuts, and tak. These rationed meals were going to be the death of Izuku. He hated the taste of the mystery meat, and the only thing stomachable was the dried fruit he received at breakfast times. Izuku takes the rations anyway, and he smiles at the captain with fake appreciation even though he knew that he would most likely be tossing the tak into the ocean and watching the fish naw at it. Damn thing was hard as a rock, and breaking it down into smaller pieces to even feed it to the fishes took him slamming the piece into the deck.
"Thank you, Captain Sero." Izuku's voice was soft as he looked at the meal within his fingers.
Sero sighs, and he nods, knowing that the food was bad. Sero reaches into his back pocket for a small cloth he uses to dab at his temple. He checks the skies. The clouds gathering to the east seemed to be transforming into something the captain wasn't fond of, but with the distance and wind speed, it was unlikely that Sero would have to steer off course.
"We should land in Soulterria by the morning."
Izuku's ears almost fall off his head as he looks up at the captain, his eyes wide and a smile creeping onto his lips. The disgusting meal within his grip was long forgotten.
"We are going to be docking... tomorrow??"
Sero's signature creepy smile pulls across his face, and he nods, his eyes glancing between the small Frostholt boy and the Farlands girl.
"Tomorrow."
The rest of the day seemed to pass by slowly. Izuku continued his labor into the night, and when it was time to finally settle back into that terrible hammock that made his skin red from the friction, he was greeted first by the stupid orc. Plzum was already asleep in his bunk, snoring like the small room was all his. Izuku hated him, but in the same breath, he was thankful that Plzum was asleep. When he sleeps, the pheromones that he floods the room with taper off to nothing.
Izuku read about many cultures around the world; the orcs had been the last to develop the omega genes that the other races had already mutated with for almost a century. Not only that, but the first omega orc that had ever been reported on in worldwide scrolls had been killed due to their clan's shame. Orcs pride themselves on being powerful, on being the biggest in the room. Alpha children are preferred. Izuku looks over the orc in front of him, and he really does understand why. Plum was about 6 feet 7, with massive muscles rippling under just the warrior's sash that looped around his body, starting at his right shoulder and ending at his hip. The orc was mighty, too, dragging in a line full of fish just by himself without any help from the other nomads on board the ship. Even Sero praised the orc. Izuku wondered if the smell of soot was familiar to Plzum's people.
Izuku steps past the orc, and he slips into his hammock, missing his sheets at home. He wonders what his mother would be thinking. There were nights when he had refused to come to dinner, but he had never been... just gone. His thoughts drift to whether his handmaiden has gotten into trouble. Izuku's eyes fill with tears as he thinks of his home, his handmaidens' arms, his dog back at home... and his mind races the rest of the night. He didn't even remember falling asleep.
The morning came quickly, too quickly. The night had lulled Izuku back home. Floral smells of his mother's garden, Missuri's golden hair, even the homemade meals made by the maids in the kitchen made appearances in Izuku's midnight dreams. Izuku felt his head, heavy with sleep, as the ship rocked underneath him. Plzum, Mirru, and that last human girl were gone from their spots, and Izuku looked out the porthole. Suddenly, it's as if his sleepiness disappears as he sees the wood... the ship was already docked?
Izuku scrambles from his place in the hammock, and he grabs his bags, pulling them over his body, wrapping his cloak around his shoulders with shaky hands as he slips his feet into his shoes. Of course, this hastiness had made him trip over himself and almost completely wipe out. There were no wake-up calls for the prince anymore, but it slightly hurt his feelings that Mirru didn't even attempt to wake him. The young prince runs above deck, his hands grasping at the stairs' support as he forces himself up the steps four at a time. The omega prince sees Sero resting against the bow of his ship. With a happy smile, he finally reaches the morning sun. The sky looked beautiful, painted with a range of yellows, pinks, and the stray blue and red. Izuku felt the warmth of the air. One thing was for sure after a week of ocean travel, day in and day out... this was no longer Frostholt.
The captain looks at Izuku as he hears his steps thunder up the dockwell, his eyes fond of the young prince now no longer under his care.
"Midoriya, you finally decided to wake up, huh?"
"You could have woken me, Captain-"
Sero cuts the boy off, his smile turning back to Soulterria.
"Just call me Hanta. You have done more than prove that you are a friend, Midoriya."
"Hanta..." The name was easy on Izuku's tongue, and he smiled happily at the captain. Racing forward, he hugged the man on the side, who stiffened. Then, like a loving parent, Hanta's arms soon wrap around the smaller man. He moves his head down, turning his head and resting his cheek upon the more petite boy's head. He sighs softly, knowing how naive this young boy was, that death was almost fated.
"Don't get sappy with me now, matey. get going, no point in burning the sunlight." Sero pushed Izuku off, not in a mean way, in a way that seemed final, like a parent.
Izuku nods, already letting go and heading to the board that connected the dock of the ship to Soulterra. Izuku pauses as he stares at the board. Just a simple wooden board, strange and weak-looking. Almost as if he would fall straight through the damn board if he stepped onto it.
Izuku doesn't hesitate; one step, then another, then the last.
Both feet on land.
Soulterria.
His future.