Chapter Text
-550 years ago-
The clunk of boots on carpet echoes through the silence as a tall, broad-shouldered man in a cloak makes his way down the king's hall. The cloak barely reaches his shins, shining as if woven of molten gold, exposing pure white pants tucked into black leather boots. Embroidered accents on the cloak gleam so blue they seem to be made out of shards of the sky itself.
The man doesn’t stop even when reaching the line ahead of him. A person he passes moves to stop him, to tell him to wait his turn like the rest of them, but one look under his hood and into eyes that almost glow from the intensity of their blue, and the aura from the man crushes any words he may have uttered. Others in line turn to see who is so rudely cutting ahead in the queue to utter complaints to the king, and eyes widen before quickly shuffling out of the way so as to not anger the imposing figure, soon leaving him a clear path directly to the king.
As the last people move out of the way, the man steps forward to be clearly seen by the king. Soon there’s a large semicircle of space around the two. The king’s golden throne gleams in the morning sunlight that shines through the high windows behind him, leaving the whole room warmly lit. Twin guards in shining silver armour decorated with complex engravings flank the throne, poleaxes held upright beside them. The king straightens up on his throne to address this man who so boldly approaches him. “And who might you be, to so rudely interrupt the public’s hearing of troubles?” the king inquires, curious and unafraid, so sure of his safety from his seat in the center of the most secure city in the human kingdom.
The strange man before him stares straight into his eyes for a long moment, the bright blue almost seeming to pierce into his soul and examine every sin his hands have ever had a part in, before the man bows before him. The king is about to speak again when the sudden appearance of a giant cloud of smoke interrupts him and, suddenly, standing before the human king is the king of dragons, the room frozen as the Almighty Bringer of Death himself spreads his wings, each patterned with seven silver stars that gleam in the morning sun. His scales shine so brightly from the soft light that it appears as if each one is a piece of freshly forged gold.
A beat passes, and then everyone is scrambling to get as close to the walls as possible, not daring to go farther than that for fear of his wrath. The guards point their poleaxes at the king of dragons, well aware that they are useless against such a force, the real troops out fighting on the front lines. The human king looks like he’s trying to become one with the throne behind him, his relaxed and confident attitude from mere seconds before now nowhere to be seen.
The dragon king opens his gigantic fanged maw to speak, human words oddly accented with a slight airy hiss as he does so. “I have come in the name of peace, to end this war of 500 years, of revenge and meaningless blood spilt.”
He moves with a dangerous grace, leaving no doubt that he could easily kill the king with a single move, yet somehow conveying that he has no intention of doing so - not yet, at least. The human king sits up straight, stiff as a board of ironwood, sweat beading on his forehead, painfully aware that he only retains his life by the dragon’s mercy. The dragon king’s presence looms over the whole room, which grows more and more tense the longer it takes the human king to answer.
When he finally speaks, it's an insult mixed with a horrible truth. “And why has the Almighty Bringer of Death come to ask for peace after years of razing our villages and killing our people? My people have suffered, and I will not make peace until you have been repaid in full for what you have done!” And it's true: the people would be hard pressed to agree to peace without repayment. The human king is terrified, his entire being screaming of his fear, and yet he speaks despite it. He closes his eyes, prepared to have his head bitten off for the insult he has just slung at the dragon king, despite its truths.
Instead of biting off his head, or raining fire, or any of the many other methods he could use to kill the human king, the dragon king speaks again, this time more solemn.
”We have had our own share of suffering, but we are tired, and our anger has faded to despair. We wish for this war to be over. It need not even be peace; a simple halt to the slaughter of both sides is all we ask, although we wish to have true peace and cooperation and to allow the new generation to grow in times of peace rather than in times of fear of war.”
The human king, though still on edge, cannot stop himself from scoffing. “As if peace is something a murderous beast such as yourself could understand.” His voice grows louder as he speaks, starting to lean into shouting, “All you've done for the last 500 years is slaughter us without mercy!”
The dragon king dips his head close to the floor, an obvious gesture of sorrow. “And for that, I am truly sorry.”
A gasp goes through the room as they see what must be the dragon equivalent of kneeling on the floor, a gesture never before witnessed by humans, who have only ever seen rage or pride or frozen apathy in their body language whilst their homes were caught in great floods or crushed by the very earth they rested upon. They see genuine regret from the king of dragons, the bringer of death himself.
“I lost myself in what I saw as avenging my slain family, and in doing so, many others lost theirs as well. I realized too late what I had done, and I am now trying to make up for the tragedy I played too large a hand in. I hope we can make peace, so that I might set right the wrongs me and my people have done unto you.”
The human king is struck silent by the words spoken by the dragon king before him. He closes his eyes for a long moment, considering.
When he opens them, a new light of certainty has filled his gaze. “Three weeks. A ceasefire for three weeks, while we negotiate the terms of this peace. Return tomorrow after ordering a ceasefire, and we can begin discussing the terms of the treaty.”
The dragon king looks up, and the tension that had not been obvious before leaves him. “Thank you, king of humans, for this chance to end the fighting.”
“I only hope that we can come to an agreement in the end.”
Another cloud of smoke hides the dragon king from sight, and by the time it dissipates, he has vanished. The human king looks over at the knight on his left, an eyebrow raised. “Well? What are you waiting for! Go spread word of our ceasefire. I will not have our men ruining this chance to end the slaughter.”
The knight salutes and rushes off to do just that.
And with that conversation, an era of peace begins.
-9 years ago-
In a clearing in the woods outside the town of Musutafu, a boy with an unruly mop of green hair so dark that in shadow it appears black is shakily standing guard before another human child, covered in new scrapes and budding bruises. Across from them is another group of children, all boasting small patches of scales on their skin, led by a boy with spiky blond hair and red eyes with slitted pupils that narrow in contempt. The leader sneers, his hands popping with sparks - they’re practically harmless, closer to sparklers than the powerful explosions they will one day become. The children behind him look apprehensive, but they do nothing.
The green-haired child, already battered, with tears welling up in his eyes, dares to speak up. “W-why are you hurting him, K-Kacchan?” he squeaks out. “He hasn’t done a-anything!”
The blond child snarls at him. “Oh, yeah? And what’s a magicless human like yourself gonna do about it, Deku?” He bares his teeth in a sharp grin as he punches a fist into his other hand, explosions popping stronger for a single moment before dying down to the small sparks from before.
One of the kids behind the blond speaks up, his voice quiet and tinged with an edge of anxiety. “Bakugo, I think we might have gone too far this time, he might be really hurt…”
“SHUT UP, YOU IDIOT!” Bakugo spits, voice filled with venom, “Humans without magic are even more useless than regular humans! It's up to us to show them their place!” The other kid stops talking and steps back, a look of regret on their face.
“Humans are so weak they needed to beg us dragons to protect them!” Bakugo’s sparks pop menacingly. “They shouldn’t be considered equals to us at all!”
The green-haired boy speaks from his knock-kneed position in front of the other child.
“I-if you don't stop hurting him, I’ll never forgive you!” The tears are spilling over his cheeks now, and his whole body is shaking. As Bakugo approaches him, hands popping with many, many small sparks, his other target runs, leaving the green-haired child on his own to be kicked to the ground and singed by explosions that are more light than heat but painful nonetheless.
It was on that day that Midoriya Izuku finally realized that not all humans were equal in their worth, and that humans and dragons weren't equals in any form. It was on that day that he started desperately searching for a way to make a human into a dragon, to give someone with almost no magic more - anything to bring him closer to his former best friend’s level. It was on that day that he really started studying magic and the rules and laws that go along with it.
It was on that day that his journey towards what could only be described as fate began.