Chapter Text
The palace dungeons are exactly what Izuku expected them to be: dark, humid, and depressing. A few weakly burning torches are the only light, making shadows dance on the moss-covered walls. And, even though he’s trying to breathe through his mouth, he can’t avoid the smell of the place. The only upside, if he can call it that, is the cells are mostly empty. There is no miserable moaning, no begging to be released, no violent coughing, no overbearing presence of Death.
There is, however, the oppressive feeling of magic raging out of control, threatening the very structure of the cell it's been confined to. And that's why Izuku is here.
"He won't let anyone in," Fuyumi says, pressing her knuckles against her lips as she stares worriedly at the iron door. It's locked from the outside, a thin slit at the bottom just barely big enough for food on a tray to be pushed through. "Natsuo nearly got his hand cut off by ice when he tried to enter."
Izuku nods in understanding, studying the door for a long moment. If he could throttle King Enji for doing this to Shouto, he would. How could the man endanger his own child and then lock him up like an animal? How dare he meddle so carelessly in a life that isn't his own? He might be the king but Izuku is fairly sure the rage building inside of him doesn't care, making the familiar feeling of All Might's inheritance crackle beneath his skin.
But he can't be angry right now. Shouto needs him. He’s drowning in a sea of uncontrollable magic and the will of his father, and can't possibly breach the surface without help.
"Could you tell me what happened?" he asks, looking up at the Princess.
She hesitates, guilt flooding her eyes as she looks away. "I thought he just wanted to talk. And they did, at first. Father said he found a way to make Shou's magic more powerful, enough so that even All Might wouldn't stand a chance against him. But, of course, Shouto rejected it, saying he didn't want anything like that. And then Father took something out of his pocket, a gem, I think. He forced it into Shouto's hand, there was this really bright light, and when it was gone, Shouto was passed out on the floor. He was brought here, and the guards were ordered to keep him locked up until he can control himself. We didn't know what he meant until Shouto woke up and his magic started going crazy."
Izuku never should have left. Even though it was just a short trip- two weeks at the most- he never should have left Shouto alone to face King Enji like this. If he'd just stayed, if he hadn't gone searching for All Might's teacher, none of this would have happened. He clenches his fist at the thought, trying to push the guilt down until he can spare a moment to be consumed by it.
"How long has it been?" he asks.
"A few days, maybe five."
"If his magic really is out of control, then it must be draining his strength. Though, if he hasn't tired out by now, whatever King Enji did really gave him a boost. Either that, or he's got barely enough control to eat whenever food is given to him."
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. There's no point in stalling any longer. He turns to face Fuyumi and smiles reassuringly at her. "I'll save him. I promise," he says.
For a moment, she doesn't respond. And then she throws her arms around Izuku and hugs him tightly, a wholly inappropriate action considering she's the Princess, but he can't blame her. In the months that Izuku has been at the castle, he's learned that she isn't one to care much about manners and politeness when King Enji or his loyal servants aren't around. "Thank you," she whispers, "Shouto won't listen to any of us but I think he will if it's you. He thinks very highly of you, Izuku."
Her words make his cheeks burn as he pulls away, clearing his throat somewhat awkwardly. He isn't entirely sure what to say in response, so he just nods and turns towards the door. Fuyumi follows after him, standing close as he opens it just a crack.
A wave of magic washes over them, sending shivers down his spine and making his hair stand on end. It's freezing cold and burning hot all at the same time, dancing across him as though trying to map out his entire body. When he breathes in, it seems to mix with his own magic, joining One For All's electric crackle by licking and poking at his skin, more curious about him than anything else.
He tries to shake off the feeling of Shouto’s magic, focusing instead on the cell he finds himself in. The door shuts behind him, the lock clicking audibly as Izuku takes in the room. It’s divided right down the middle. To the left of Izuku, ice covers every square inch of the floors, walls, and ceilings, jagged and bluer than it has any right to be. To his right, scorch marks cover the walls and ceilings while a layer of soot has covered the floor completely. Against the back wall, as far from the door as possible, Shouto is curled into a ball. One half of him is covered in flames that dance along his arm and settle in his hair while the other half is coated in a layer of frost that would have been unbearable to anyone else.
Izuku clenches his jaw and holds his head high. He can’t let Shouto see any hesitation or fear from him. With a strengthened sense of determination filling him, Izuku begins to walk over the layer of soot, carefully making his way to Shouto.
It’s only when he gets closer that Shouto seems to realize someone else is in the cell with him. The Prince tenses up and growls, “Get out.”
“I was hoping for a warmer welcome,” Izuku replies softly, crouching in front of Shouto with a warm smile.
Shouto’s head jerks up, staring at Izuku with wide eyes. For a moment, he looks like he’s about to smile. And then his eyes travel to the flames on his arm. He flinches and presses back against the wall, as far from Izuku as he can get.
It’s only when he’s moved to do so that the shackle around his waist is made clear. The heavy chain connects to an iron loop on the wall, welded firmly in place so there’s no breaking it off. Izuku inhales sharply at the sight of it, forcing himself to look away so he doesn’t get caught up in it just yet. That’s something to take care of once he’s calmed Shouto down.
“You should leave before you get hurt,” Shouto tells him quietly.
“I’m fairly sure you aren’t capable of hurting me,” he says, making his point by moving closer. Soot is clinging to his pants and the palms of his gloves but he can’t bring himself to care at the moment. “Besides, it seems like you’ve got it mostly under control.”
Shouto scowls and looks away. “It’s not under control at all,” he says. He pulls his knees back to his chest, holding them close. Seeing him trying to make himself so small feels wrong to Izuku. The Prince shouldn’t look like this, shouldn’t be trying to curl in on himself. He should be standing tall and proud.
“What’s the problem then?”
Blue and grey eyes meet his own briefly before finding a spot on the ice-covered wall and staring intently at it. “Every time I try, I think about the reason I’m here in the first place,” he says. As he speaks, the flames on him start to grow, burning a little hotter, and another layer of ice begins to crawl along the wall behind him. “And every time I think of my father, I realize how much I hate him for forcing this on me. I hate him for everything he’s done. I can’t stop thinking about it. According to Fuyumi, he used to be good. So why is it that every memory I have of him is one where he’s yelling and causing me pain?”
Izuku can feel the fire now, dangerously close to his face and threatening to singe the edges of his hair, but he doesn’t pull away. The ice on the other side of the room becomes sharper as it starts to spread across the previous divide, needing more space to grow.
“Why does he have to force his expectations on me?!”
His fire grows brighter, the flames starting to reach up towards the ceiling. Their light is reflected by the ice, bathing the entire room in a red glow. Shouto’s fingers are digging into his calves as he continues to hug his knees to his chest.
“He ruined our family, drove my mother to burn me, decided to continue being the world’s biggest asshole in the name of power, and he still thinks I’ll just shut up and listen!”
The room becomes almost too hot to bear as the fire starts to slowly change colors, going from red to a dull orange. It starts to melt the ice on the other side of the room only for more to form in its place, the spikes building on each other and creating a deadly sculpture.
“He doesn’t want a son, he wants a fucking prop, and I hate him! I don’t want this power! I don’t want anything he forces on me!”
His magic bursts then, causing the fire to flare outwards as icicles start to form directly on his body rather than the wall or floor. Izuku falls back, his heart pounding in his chest as he scrambles to get a safe distance away from the burning heat, sweat dripping down his cheek as he tries to catch his breath.
In the middle of the flames that won’t die down and the ice that becomes even more jagged, Shouto is gripping his head, fingers tangled in his hair and tugging in a way that must be painful. His face is twisted into something painful, eyebrows pulled together and teeth bared against the war waging inside of him. For the brief moment that Izuku can see his eyes before they’re squeezed shut, the unshed tears were building faster than Shouto could contain them, threatening to spill over.
Maybe Izuku is too empathetic but he can’t stop his own tears when he sees Shouto in so much pain. He once again finds himself thinking he never should have left. Maybe they’d be in the library right now if he hadn’t, enjoying each other’s company as they both read. Or they could be taking a meal together, their ankles hooked beneath the table as a silent reassurance.
But what could have been- what should have been, if he’s being entirely honest- doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that the one person Izuku cares about most needs him. He can’t just sit there crying.
Izuku roughly wipes the tears away, the soot on his gloves transferring to his face and making him grimace. He doesn’t pay it too much mind, though. Instead, he pushes himself to his feet, staring at the flames for a long moment before taking a deep breath. His clothes should be spelled enough to protect him from burning too badly but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to step into an inferno.
Though, when he takes a step forward, it doesn’t feel nearly as hot as it should. Izuku still finds himself sweating uncomfortably in the heat but he doesn’t feel like he's burning. He stares at the flames, watching as they climb up his clothes but still don’t cause him harm. It’s probably a stupid idea but Izuku tugs off one of his gloves and sticks his hand right into the fire growing on his sleeve.
It doesn’t hurt. It should, right? But instead of burning him, it just rests on his hand, a small flame lingering in his palm when he pulls it away. The feel of it is familiar, now that he thinks about it, buzzing eagerly in the same way One For All did right before Izuku accepted it. He’s not sure if this is somehow Shouto’s doing or if the magic is just recognizing him as something it shouldn’t harm. Either way, knowing that he won’t be hurt fills Izuku with relief as he lets his hand drop to his side.
He crosses the rest of the space between him and Shouto, dropping down to his knees right in front of the Prince. His eyes are still squeezed shut, and he jumps slightly when Izuku takes his hands and gently pulls them away from his hair. When Shouto looks up, processes that the other is literally sitting in the middle of a fire, his eyes widen and he tries to pull away.
“What are you doing?! The flames-”
“They don’t hurt,” Izuku interrupts, smiling a little sheepishly as he tightens his grip on Shouto’s hands. He doesn’t want him to pull away anymore.
“Did you know that before you decided to walk through fire?” Shouto asks, his eyes narrowing slightly.
What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? Izuku figures that his own recklessness is something they can address later. So he just smiles reassuringly and says, “Yes. Now, you need to control yourself, Shouto.”
He looks away from Izuku, his eyes hardening as they focus once more on the ice next to him. “I can’t. It’s not myself I need to control, it’s the magic. And it won’t listen to me,” he explains.
That’s not really true, though, right? The magic currently surrounding them doesn’t feel like something separate from Shouto. It just feels like a stronger version of his usual magic. And that was always a little wild but somehow restrained, eagerly reaching out for anything new while stubbornly holding onto whatever it already considered its own.
While this might have been forced on Shouto by his father, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s now his to harness. He already had control of this magic once, and he can control it again. All that’s left is for him to realize that fact.
Izuku frowns slightly and moves forward, pushing himself between Shouto’s legs so they’re closer than they’ve ever been before. He can be embarrassed about it later, preferably when he’s alone in his tower room and can muffle his mortified groans with a pillow. Right now, though, he shoves away any feelings he might have had from their proximity.
He gently pulls his hands away and tugs off his other glove, letting it fall to the floor like the first, and cradles Shouto’s face, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You’ve controlled your magic before, Shouto. I know you can control it now, too,” he says, his voice soft and reassuring. His cheeks are both scalding and freezing, a weird difference to think about but also so wholly Shouto that he can’t help feeling a little endeared by it.
“Not like this. This isn’t my magic.”
“But it is!” Izuku exclaims, trying not to think about the way Shouto’s hands have come up to wrap around his wrists like he needs something to ground him. He takes a deep breath and gently rubs his thumbs across the other’s cheeks, hoping it will help to calm him down. “It is your magic. I can feel it.”
Shouto’s eyes close, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he shakes his head. “No, my magic was never this wild, Izuku. And either way, I don’t want it. I don’t want anything of my father’s. He can go rot and take his magic with him,” he says, the disdain clear in his eyes when he opens them once more.
It hurts to see. Nobody should ever have such hate in their eyes. But that would require the world to be devoid of cruel people and, as nice as that dream is, it’s nowhere near realistic. Izuku sighs and leans forward, pressing his forehead to Shouto’s. “I know your magic. It wouldn’t hurt me, and if this truly was your father’s then I would have burned to a crisp the moment I set foot in the flames.”
That seems to grab Shouto’s attention, making him pull back some to stare at the fire that Izuku is so comfortable sitting in. He glances down at the hand still pressed against his cheek, the flames that were dancing across his face and up into his hair still burning as strong as before. When he meets Izuku’s eyes again, he looks ready to say something but snaps his mouth shut, his teeth audibly clicking together.
Izuku smiles softly, able to see that he’s starting to get through to Shouto. “Your father may have been the one to give it to you, but he’s not the one that gets to decide what you do with it. This is your power now, Shouto. It’s yours to control, yours to wield.”
Shouto tightens his grip on Izuku's wrists and takes a deep breath. “Why are you doing this?” he asks, his words almost too quiet to hear. “I’m not worth walking into fire for.”
Izuku feels like he can’t breathe again. His stomach is twisting a little at the thought that he thinks so lowly of himself. But he isn’t sure how to voice the way he feels. Walking through a raging fire is the least of what he’d do for him. Izuku would risk his life if Shouto asked, would raise a sword in his name, would travel to the ends of the known world with a single word. He would give himself wholly- body and soul- if doing so would grant him a smile.
Maybe he shouldn’t be so utterly devoted to a person like this but he can’t bring himself to dwell on that. The simple fact of the matter is that Izuku cares for Shouto. He feels it, deep in his chest, where his magic resides and beats in tandem with his heart. All Might explained that’s where he can turn to discover his truest feelings; his own magic would never lie to him if he’s genuinely seeking the truth of himself.
But none of that is as easy to say as it is to think. When faced with the raw openness of Shouto’s eyes, the way he’s staring up at Izuku like he’s ready to beg him to leave him to burn, Izuku can’t possibly bring himself to be as well-spoken as he’d like. “You’re more than worth it,” he says, “I can’t think of anyone else besides my own mother that I’d be willing to burn for. Even if you don’t believe me, I look at you and see some of the best things in this world. You’re strong in both body and will, kind despite the pain you’ve known, and wholly deserving of all the love and compassion this world could offer you.”
Oh, huh, that sounded a lot better than he expected. Though, he might have given too much of himself away with those words. His heart is jack-rabbiting in his chest as Shouto stares at him, tightening his grip on Izuku’s wrists to a near painful point as though he might pull away. “You really mean all of that,” he says.
Izuku clears his throat, happy that his flushed cheeks could easily be explained away by the heat of the room. “Well, yes, but we can talk about that later. First, you need to get yourself under control,” he replies, glancing at the admittedly smaller flames.
With a slightly distracted nod, Shouto takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out, his eyes closed as he concentrates on the magic around them. Slowly, Izuku can feel its presence begin to weaken. The fire around them seems to reluctantly return to Shouto, going out with a few wisps of smoke lingering on the prince’s skin. The ice that covers his other side melts, leaving the white half of his hair damp when Izuku’s fingers brush against it.
Shouto keeps his eyes closed even after he’s gotten himself under control, still taking deep breaths. Izuku can only assume that he’s trying to keep the magic reigned in, trying to convince it to stay in place for now until he calls on it again. While he does that, Izuku pulls away enough to look at the iron shackle around the Prince’s waist.
He’s learned to control One For All enough to break it without hurting himself, so he reaches down and grips the iron on either side of the lock. His magic begins to crackle, eager to be put to use even for the few seconds this will take. Just five percent of his power is enough to break the shackle in two, the shackle falling to the ground on either side of Shouto.
With it gone, Shouto seems able to breathe a little easier, his shoulders relaxing as he lets his head drop back against the wall. “I’m exhausted,” he mutters, opening his eyes to look at Izuku still situated comfortably between his legs. Despite his words, he still manages a slight smirk that makes Izuku’s heart skip a beat as he says, “Rather bold of you to sit there.”
Yeah, he’s definitely feeling better if he’s teasing him. Izuku pouts at him and looks away, his cheeks turning even redder. “I had to get close to calm you down and you know it,” he replies, feeling some of the indignation leave him when Shouto laughs softly.
“I know. And thank you, by the way. You seem to have a habit of telling me just what I need to hear.”
Izuku shrugs slightly and looks up at Shouto, flashing a tiny smile. “I just tell you the truth, Shou. It’s not that hard.”
A cold hand reaches up to cup his face, sending a shiver down Izuku’s spine even as he finds himself leaning into the touch. Shouto leans a bit closer, humming softly in thought. “It’s harder than you think,” he says.
Something settles between them, and Izuku isn’t sure if he’s actually reading the situation correctly or if he’s trying to see things that aren’t there. But he can’t imagine how gentle Shouto’s touch is, or the way his knees are pressing just slightly into Izuku’s ribs as though to keep him close. There’s one way to find out, right?
He leans a little closer, placing a hand on the wall next to Shouto’s head to steady himself. “Telling the truth doesn’t always mean talking,” he whispers, his heart speeding up in his chest and his stomach feeling weirdly light. “Actions can tell the truth, too. Or, um, writing technically isn’t talking, I guess.”
Shouto huffs out a laugh, shaking his head with a fond smile. “That would have been impressively smooth if not for the last bit,” he tells him.
“Hey, I thought it was goo-”
Lips pressed against his own interrupt him but Izuku can’t bring himself to be upset, not when Shouto is kissing him so gently. The taste of ash and magic lingers on his lips, an odd combination Izuku didn’t expect to like. Later, he’s sure, Izuku will try to dismiss what happened as a spur of the moment thing, a consequence of the magic in the room.
But, for now, he lets go and loses himself in the kiss.