Chapter Text
“It’s hyperbole, your grace. The literal translation would be, I’m drowning in your eyes, but it tends to mean—“
“I get it. Thank you,” he said, somewhat dismissively. He didn’t mean to be rude to Momo, but he was reeling at the moment. Katsuki liked his eyes, and his freckles, and, well… him. He liked him, and Izuku was hell-bent on not reciprocating—hell-bent on waiting for someone that had never spoken to him, never touched him. It was starting to feel silly, really, holding on to the affection he felt for his secret admirer.
Izuku knew he was stubborn to a fault—Toshinori loved to remind him whenever he was in danger of forgetting—but he couldn’t just throw the roses to the wayside. The first one came to him in a fraught time. His parents were gone, his kingdom in debt and turmoil, and it all rested on his shoulders. He felt so alone in his grief and anxiety, confined to the castle, and suddenly there was color in the world again in the form of an orange rose on his pillow. There was excitement because he never knew exactly where it would be or when it would appear, but eventually it did, and he was so happy to receive each and every one.
He liked to think he was more mature than the thirteen year old boy he used to be. He liked to think he was too mature to be so taken with the idea of secret admirers and stoking the fires of a romance that only existed in his head, but maybe he wasn’t.
Otherwise, how could he look at Katsuki, fully knowing that they were to be married—realizing that Katsuki was, if not in love with him, at least enamored—and refuse him for a person he’d never met? It beggared belief, even to Izuku.
So why couldn’t he let it go?
The question plagued him all morning, his previous hurt over being lied to about Ruzan translations completely forgotten. He was too distracted to remember that he still wasn’t speaking to Toshinori, and so they were both surprised when they sat to break their fast in the same room for the first time in over a month. They locked eyes for a lingering, awkward moment before Izuku deliberately looked away and resolved not to make such a mistake again.
“Lady Yaoyorozu tells me that you and the prince are getting along,” Toshinori said converationally, picking at his porridge. Izuku made a mental note to ask Momo to keep her observations to herself. Izuku didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t give Toshinori permission to be smug without outright lying to him, so he remained silent, gulping down spoonfuls of porridge at a breakneck pace.
“Izuku,” Toshinori said, heaving a sad sigh. He sounded weak, and old, and Izuku was reminded that his time with his advisor could come to an end at any moment, sick as he was. He looked up from his bowl, meeting his eye warily. “I don’t like this. How long will you avoid me?”
Izuku sighed, guilt hitting him full-force. The truth was that he missed Toshinori, and their easy conversations. He missed having a father to lean on. He wished he could be honest about the reason he didn’t want to marry Katsuki, but he had kept the secret for so long, and old habits die hard.
“Not much longer, I suppose.”
He was here, after all. Toshinori didn’t have to know that he was here only because he was too preoccupied with recent Katsuki-related revelations to remember he wasn’t speaking to him. Toshinori gave a sad, tentative smile.
“I have a surprise for you, actually. I was going to speak with you later today.”
Izuku waited, still not comfortable enough with Toshinori to appear excited. If anything, he was wary because the last surprise Toshinori thought to give him was a husband. He took another spoonful of porridge to avoid speaking.
“I’ve made arrangements for you and the prince to attend the harvest festival. I know you’ve always wanted to go.”
Izuku looked up in absolute shock, his spoon clattering to the table. He stared, open-mouthed at Toshinori, and he hardly cared that he looked just a bit too pleased with himself in the face of Izuku’s surprise.
“Really? But I thought—“
Too many people in town were angry with the crown, and Toshinori had kept him confined to the castle for his own safety. He told him of food riots, people dying in the street, and thieves who would love to kill him to appease their own hurt. To be told that he had a chance to see outside the gates was almost too good to be true.
“You’ll have a guard, of course, and so will the prince, but I think it’s time you get to experience all the things that have been kept from you. I have no doubt that you’ll be safe with the prince. He’s quite the skilled warrior, you know.”
Izuku didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to start a conversation with Toshinori about it. That could only end badly.
“Okay. I’m looking forward to it… Thank you,” he said honestly. The air turned awkward once again, and they finished their meals in mutual silence.
The first thing Izuku did upon quitting the Great Hall was run to the east wing. He had avoided it ever since Katsuki and his retinue took up residence in the castle, but he was too excited not to share the news. Izuku was shaking, high on the thought of leaving the palace grounds for the first time in years. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been allowed out. He was too young to appreciate it.
By the time he’d made it to Katsuki’s chambers, he’d abandoned all sense. Without announcing his presence, he threw open the doors.
“Katsuki!” Izuku’s mind came to a screeching halt upon realizing what he’d just done. Luckily, Katsuki was as clothed as usual. Before he could stutter out an apology, Katsuki whipped around with murder in his eyes and a heavy figurine in his hand.
“Jdi do prdele!” He growled, but before the figurine became a casualty of war, he recognized that it was Izuku who barged in.
“What does that mean?” Izuku asked, too curious for his own good, smiling. It couldn’t be a nice phrase, judging by the hostility in his tone.
Katsuki puffed out his chest, took a measured breath, and lied to his face.
“Means good morning.”
Izuku bristled, last night’s hurt reappearing.
“Dobré ráno means good morning, and utápím se ve… well, I can’t pronounce the rest, but I know it doesn’t mean farewell.”
Katsuki smirked as he resumed the daily routine Izuku so rudely interrupted. For once, he donned a covering in addition to his cloak. Izuku watched, absolutely rapt, as he laced up a wool bolero. His abs were still dangerously exposed to the elements, and Izuku wondered exactly how much that would warm him against the autumn chill. His fingers were nimble and light as he tied a complicated knot at the base. When Katsuki looked at him, he seemed to know that Izuku was staring, and he smirked again, pleased and poised to tease him
“I never say it was farewell,” he said, and his voice held some weight to it, like there was some double-meaning that evaded Izuku. “Why do you come? You never come here.”
It didn’t sound accusatory, but Izuku felt ill at ease all the same. He wondered why Izuku only interacted with Katsuki in the allotted hour Toshinori set up for them. He enjoyed Katsuki’s company, and often thought of things he ought to tell Katsuki the next time he saw him, but this was the first time he sought him out. He fumbled for a response.
“Oh! Toshinori said we could attend the harvest festival. I was so excited, I wanted to tell you right away. S-sorry for barging in.”
“Is fine. I know about the festival.”
“Oh, he told you?”
Katsuki shook his head as he sat on the edge of his unmade bed and pulled on his well-worn boots.
“I ask him. For you,” he said, nonchalant as ever. Izuku couldn’t mimic the same casual tone.
“Really? You did that… for me?”
“Ano. I want you to be happy. Not lonely anymore.”
“Oh.”
“Are you?” He asked, his crimson eyes boring holes into Izuku as he stepped closer. Izuku’s breath caught in his throat. He was suddenly flustered.
“Ano. Uh, děkuji, Katsuki,” he said breathlessly. “Did I say it right?”
“Close.” Katsuki’s smirk opened wider, into something like a genuine smile. Looking at him, Izuku decided he may as well make the most of their unplanned time together.
“Would you… like to take a walk?”
“Vždy.” He grabbed his cloak, and gestured for Izuku to lead the way.
“What does that mean?”
Katsuki merely shrugged, and hid a laugh in his shoulder when Izuku scowled at him. They paced around the grounds for so long, Izuku nearly forgot to look for his rose. When he remembered, almost as an afterthought, the guilt struck him full force. He had been looking forward to the equinox since July. It scared him how easily he’d forgotten.
The castle gates opened before him, and Izuku felt an exhilarating mix of apprehension and eagerness. Katsuki stood beside him, a quiet, comforting presence. He wondered if Katsuki was as excited as he was. He wondered if Ruza had some kind of celebration for the changing seasons. He thought he might like to see Ruza someday as they walked the path to town, Ser Naomasa and Kirishima following at a discreet distance behind them.
Upon seeing the town, Izuku’s heart jumped into his throat at the sight of the festivities. There were so many people, dancing and singing around bonfires so high they seemed to touch the dark sky. Children ran through the street, playing with corn husk dolls purchased from a nearby merchant’s tent. Izuku had never seen so many people gathered in one place.
It was beautiful in its chaos, but incredibly overwhelming. Katsuki seemed to sense his unease. His hand came from beneath his cloak, his palm open, asking for permission.
“No worry. I am here with you,” he said, and though his Amaranthian was jagged and awkward, his words soothed the edges of his anxiety. It took him back to his parents’ funeral. Izuku didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to feel the weight of that loss—the aching loneliness of being the last Midoriya in the world. Toshinori put a hand on his drooping shoulders, and said much the same thing. Fueled by nostalgic sentimentality, he decided to trust Katsuki, and took his outstretched hand. They walked further into town, close enough that the roaring bonfire warmed Izuku through.
It was nice, walking through the square with Katsuki beside him. No one paid them any mind. Izuku had to admit the reasons Toshinori gave to keep him from leaving the castle had stuck with him, but he was just another face in the crowd here. Izuku grew up disconnected from the people he was supposed to be caring for. He hoped that, in time, there would be a day when Izuku could walk freely among them, and they might be happy to know he was there.
The crowd thinned out as they walked away from the bonfire. Katsuki asked if he wanted to dance, but he also looked so immensely relieved when Izuku refused that he almost wanted to push past his nerves and force Katsuki to dance, just so he could tease him.
Away from the fires, the night chill was more present, and Izuku shivered. He didn’t have any time to actually feel cold before Katsuki was removing his cloak and draping it over Izuku's shoulders.
Whether Katsuki meant it or not, the action reminded him of their impending nuptials. He couldn’t be sure if wedding customs in Amaranth were the same in Ruza, but everything was suddenly too much for Izuku. In Amaranth, you share a cloak with your betrothed, to symbolize the merging of houses. It says, what’s mine is yours, and vice versa. It says, you are under my protection, and I will keep you safe.
Izuku never meant for things to go this far—to lead Katsuki on. He was confused by sweet smiles and games and picnics, but he couldn’t do this any longer. Izuku felt his time running out, like sand slipping through an hourglass. He was keenly aware that their time for courtship was ending, and Katsuki wasn’t going anywhere. He would officially propose before the new moon, and they’d be married by the next—and even if Izuku didn’t entirely mind that, he couldn’t let it happen.
“Katsuki,” he started, but the rest of his sentence stuck in his throat. He tried again, clutching the fabric of his cloak, grateful that they were no longer clasping hands.
“You—“ he said, struggling to word it in a way that wouldn’t hurt him. “You ought to go home.”
“My place is here, now. You are home to me.”
Izuku’s stomach flipped. He could only hope that he hadn't meant what he said—that it was some botched translation.
“I can’t marry you.”
“Why?”
“I just…can’t,” he said, feeling a failure. He couldn’t put the way he was feeling into words, and that felt wrong.
“That is no answer.”
“I-well, there’s someone else.”
“Who?” He asked, and his tone was as cold and demanding and the autumn wind.
“I can’t say,” Izuku said, staring at his boots for fear of what he might see in Katsuki’s eyes.
“You will say. I am here for months, and I see no one else.”
Izuku frowned. He didn’t have to say it like that.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m trying to be honest with you. I can’t marry you because I… love someone else.” The words sounded false on his lips. Izuku couldn’t claim to know much about love, but that had to be it. What else would he call years of yearning, and months of holding out hope that his admirer would reappear? How else could he justify pushing away a kind man for a stranger he had never truly known? He couldn’t spend much time thinking about it because Katsuki’s face was warping before his eyes—shock, anger, immense hurt. “You don’t want to marry me, anyway. Let’s just put this arrangement to rest, and stay friends.”
Katsuki looked as if Izuku had spit on him. He could tell he was trying to compose himself, to hold back his emotion. Izuku observed his hands clenching at his sides, his jaw working, his mouth attempting not to pull back in a snarl. The silence that passed felt like a lifetime to Izuku.
“We go back to the palace. I…” He paused, searching for the right words, but apparently, he came up short. He sighed, his mouth a tight, disappointed line. “Come.”
Izuku felt like the worst man in the world, but it had to be done. He didn’t want to hurt Katsuki. He never meant to. Truly, he was surprised by the depth of Katsuki’s response. He knew that Katsuki was open to the arrangement, open to knowing him, but he never would’ve guessed that Katsuki’s attachment to him was more than a crush borne of obligation.
The silence was oppressive and inescapable. Izuku didn’t know what to say, and the look in Katsuki’s eyes, the scowl on his lips, told Izuku he had no business trying to comfort him. It was clear that any fondness Izuku had for their fledgling friendship was now null and void. He knew he wasn’t allowed to be upset. He brought this on himself, but the dull ache in his chest refused to listen to reason.
Once inside the castle gates, Katsuki turned on him, bowing low. He made no effort to hide his somber mood. For once, his farewell was not the sweet nothing he’d adopted.
“Until tomorrow, můj králi,” he said, his tone clear, concise, and formal. It held none of his usual teasing, and Izuku found himself missing his cocksure smirk. He was gone before Izuku could muster a reply. Izuku watched his broad back as he left, observing the tense, angry lines of his shoulders. Izuku realized too late that he never asked for his cloak back before guiltily walking the path to the castle, his heart in his throat all the while.
Izuku spent the night tossing and turning, tangling himself in his bed linens. He couldn’t convince himself that he did the right thing. Surely, Katsuki would be leaving. It was only a matter of time. Izuku thought that maybe, if Katsuki were to leave, the roses might return. He wondered if that was right, though. He wondered if the palace would fade back into silence without his loud guests. He wondered how we could possibly go back to the way things were. He supposed he’d have to try.
He woke feeling as if his eyes had only shut for a moment, and even if the quiet of his bedroom, the world felt grey and colorless again. He didn’t want to get out of bed. He didn’t want to dress for the day, but a harsh knock on the door sounded and Izuku knew he’d have to soldier on.
Katsuki stood before his open door, tall and imposing in a way Izuku had never seen. Izuku could feel the distance between them growing ever wider as Katsuki bowed to him.
“I need to speak,” he said quickly. “After, if you still… don’t want me…” He trailed off, probably lacking the vocabulary to describe what he was thinking. Or, perhaps, he just didn’t want to say he’d break off the engagement. Maybe it hurt too much to vocalize. Izuku rushed to soothe him.
“Katsuki! I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you, and I care about you, but—“
“Izuku,” he said, effectively stopping him in his tracks. He had never once called him by his name, and the intimacy of it all hit Izuku like a horse-drawn carriage careening downhill. “Let me speak.”
Izuku nodded, terrified of what Katsuki wanted to say to him, but also hanging on his every stilted Amaranthian word, but Katsuki didn’t speak. He merely pulled an orange, long-stemmed rose from beneath his cloak. Izuku was sure he gasped, and quickly covered his mouth to stifle it. It took him some time to compose himself, his eyes shifting from the brilliantly colored petals and Katsuki’s face. Katsuki was careful not to look at Izuku.
“It was you.”
“Ano,” Katsuki confirmed, finally allowing himself a soft smile. He idly twirled the rose in his hand by its stem, and the action spoke of a nervousness Katsuki rarely showed in their time knowing each other. “In my country, these are everywhere.”
“I...probably should’ve listened more in my tutoring lessons. I feel like I should know that,” Izuku said dumbly, still grappling with the enormity of it all.
“You know now.”
“How did you do it? Ruza is so far away.”
“Eijiro and Mina is drak. Very fast, and loyal friends.” Drak. He wasn’t familiar with the word, but his mind made one of those rare leaps in logic, conjuring up an imagine of his friends, and their matching, winged snake tattoos. Izuku very nearly let his mind go off on a tangent at the thought that he had spent months in the company of dragons and had been none the wiser. “And Toshinori helped. He cares deeply for you.”
Izuku felt a pang in his chest for the way he had acted recently. He thought Toshinori was acting in service of Amaranth, foisting a foreign husband on Izuku for the good of the people with little regard for his wishes. He should’ve known better. He should’ve been honest. He’ll have to thank him somehow. With great effort, he shut his wandering mind down, focusing on the latest mystery at hand.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
Katsuki merely shrugged. He looked almost sheepish.
“I wanted you to know me. In Ruza, we say… well, it translates to one is above the others,” he said slowly, working through the translation in real time. He seemed dissatisfied with his attempt, and for good measure he repeated the phrase in his native tongue. He said each word slowly and purposefully, as if he wanted Izuku to commit it to memory. He would, without a doubt.
“When you find your one above the other, you give this. It says… out of everyone, you are special to me.” Katsuki’s smile was warm, his eyes molten liquid, as he reached for Izuku’s hand. His palm was warm, and a bit sweaty from his nerves, but his thumb rubbed light, gentle circles over Izuku’s knuckles. “Rozumíš?”
Izuku nodded. He understood perfectly. Misty-eyed, he looked at his perfect rose, his one above the other, and he gave it back to Katsuki. Katsuki, for his part, looked crestfallen until Izuku parroted back the phrase in Katsuki’s native language as best he could. Katsuki gave a wet laugh, and a very undignified sniffle.
“We work on your pronunciation.” Katsuki said, a bit choked up, but he looked so happy as he pulled him closer and caressed his cheek. Izuku was amazed that he could make such a strong, stoic person feel so much. “After wedding.”
“Ano,” Izuku said, leaning into his suitor’s touch. Izuku couldn’t believe his luck. He couldn’t believe that all this time, he was comparing Katsuki to himself. He felt so ridiculous. Katsuki pressed a kiss to Izuku’s forehead, and whispered more words he didn’t understand.
“ Snesl bych ti modré z nebe.”
“Is this another one you won’t translate for me? Like drowning in my eyes?”
Katsuki shook his head and made that face Izuku had come to know meant that he was working things out in his head.
“Izuku Midoriya, I would give you the blue in the sky, but it also mean I love you.”
“I think four years of roses, and a lifetime together should be enough. Thank you. I love you, too, Katsuki.”
In the end, Izuku found his secret admirer. He found that the roses meant so much more than he originally thought. He knew they were special, he knew he was special. The one above all the others for Katsuki Bakugo, and in a few days time, he would be Katsuki Midoriya. After years of pining and roses, they finally found each other. Izuku wasn’t going to let him go. He would cherish Katsuki just as he had all his roses.