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Shouto scowled down at his drink. It was something vile and bitter that he didn’t care to remember the name of, but he’d had at least two cups before this one. It tasted awful and scalded his throat but he drank it like it was water straight from the fountain of youth, desperate for some sort of reprieve from his hellish life.
Married.
Shouto was going to get married.
Not just married, of course, but married to someone he’d never even met. Not once, not even a passing interaction or a glance from across the room. He didn't even know what his fiancé looked like . He had nothing to go off of.
See, maybe if his betrothed had been royal from birth, they would have known each other from childhood. They would have attended the same stuffy events and balls, sharing stories of their own kingdoms and running off from the adult’s boring conversations before they were old enough to join them. Maybe Shouto would have known him in the same shallow way he knew Prince Eijirou from the kingdom of Riot, or Princess Tsuyu from Froppy.
But no, of course King Toshinori of the kingdom of Yuuei was a man of his people to the end, unlike the other traditional lineages from every other kingdom. Instead of fathering an heir, Toshinori was hand picking a successor from the streets in a way that made Shouto’s father nearly froth at the lips.
Midoriya Izuku, a peasant boy from the capital city of Might. A kind, charming, and intelligent young man from what his advisors had told him.
Shouto hated him.
He hated what the man represented, hated the freedoms that he was taking away.
Shouto downed half of his drink in one go, smacking his lips in distaste at the awful flavor.
He didn’t want to get married to anyone, of course, but he’d managed to accept his options as he grew older. (If, by accept, you meant very begrudgingly acknowledge their existence). The pool of eligible suitors of a high enough status for the crown prince of Endeavor was small, and while Shouto didn’t necessarily like any of them as friends, let alone romantic partners, he was at the very least somewhat acquainted with all of them.
He was not acquainted with Midoriya Izuku.
Nor did he want to be.
Toshinori and the prince were in Endeavor now, having arrived that morning - a mere two days after Shouto was informed of their engagement, Midoriya Izuku was already making himself at home. The knowledge that the man who was going to shackle Shouto’s freedoms was somewhere in his homeland was sickening.
Shouto chugged the rest of his glass.
He had never really been a drinker. As in, he’d only ever had a sip of wine at official events and balls, and only after he’d turned sixteen. Not like Touya, who snuck glasses of liquor into his bedroom, or Fuyumi, who enjoyed red wine. No, Shouto was not one who usually found himself turning to drink.
But tonight, he was upset.
He was upset at his father, he was upset at King Toshinori, and he was damn well upset at Midoriya Izuku.
When someone came to sit by him at the dingy bar on one of the too-firm stools, Shouto barely paid them any mind. It wasn't like they would recognize him - he'd covered up the scar with Fuyumi's makeup, and his hair was tucked into a cap. But still - he wanted to be left alone.
The stranger was followed shortly by two others, but Shouto largely ignored them in favor of nursing his drink - he wasn't even sure what it was in his glass, but it was making him less angry (and less lonely) so he wasn't exactly willing to give it up to make meaningless conversation with the sure-to-be less than saintly patrons of this fine establishment.
"An ale, please," the stranger beside him requested from the bartender, who gave him a grin and a thumbs up. His two friends were hissing angrily in his ear, too low for Shouto to understand what was being said, but obviously upset.
Shouto, more out of boredom than anything else, peered at the trio from out of the corner of his eye.
A short brown-haired girl with rosy cheeks stood beside a very tall man with eyeglasses, both dressed a bit too formally for a shady tavern like the one they were in. They were hovering almost protectively around a boy that seemed to be Shouto's age, who was seated at the bar with his head in his hands. He had green, unruly hair and tanned skin, laced with scars and dotted with freckles. His hands were crooked and calloused.
A brief image flashed in Shouto's mind of what their hands might look like intertwined, palms pressed together and fingers entangled, jagged scars against pale skin, buffed to perfection every morning by a slew of servants.
He banished the thought as quickly as it came.
"This is very dangerous," the tall man warned the boy, hands chopping through the air as he raised his voice loud enough for it to carry to Shouto. "I cannot advise it!"
"I have to agree with Tenya," the girl added, her voice also dropping out of a whisper. "I'm all for supporting you, but Aiz- ah... your teacher is going to have your hide for disappearing!"
Shouto raised an eyebrow as he peered back down at his drink. The two seemed nervous and a bit jumpy, which made sense if they were trying to convince the green-haired boy to come back from running away from somewhere. Shouto couldn't help but sympathize.
"Ochako, Tenya, I really appreciate it," the boy mumbled quietly. It wouldn't have been audible if Shouto hadn't been right next to him. "But please, let me have one night. Just one. Give me tonight, and I'll go back to being the perfect son tomorrow."
Well, now Shouto really sympathized.
Obviously, they couldn't be facing the exact same scenario, but it was close enough that Shouto could hear himself in the boy's words. He'd said almost the same thing to Momo when she'd caught him sneaking out the kitchen exit.
Please, Momo. Let me have tonight. I just want one night to be nobody, before I have to sit at that table and sign my future away to someone I've never met. Please, let me have this.
He sighed, running his tongue over his teeth and grimacing at the lingering liquor flavor.
"Can you just... take a seat over in the corner?" The boy asked, raising his head from his hands to look his companions in the eye. "Let me... be alone for a bit?"
An apprehensive look was shared between his friends, obviously hesitant, for reasons Shouto couldn't discern.
"Fine," the tall one sighed eventually. "But we need to leave before it gets too late. You need a proper night's sleep tonight more than ever!"
The boy hung his head murmuring his thanks as the bartender reappeared. He slid a mug of ale down the bar to the boy, who caught it easily.
The girl clasped his shoulder, smiling sadly. "Feel better, alright? There's got to be a silver lining somewhere, huh?"
Shouto scowled down at his drink. Sometimes, silver linings just didn't exist.
The two of them flitted off after a moment, leaving the boy to nurse his ale with his head hung sadly. Shouto felt a strange urge to reach out and touch him, to bring him some semblance of comfort.
He sat on his hand to keep it by his own side.
With the hand not confined under his leg, Shouto took another swig of his drink, only to find it entirely empty. He set it down without bothering to be gentle, scowling heavily. His night was going just wonderfully, wasn’t it?
"You look like you need a drink more than I do."
Shouto looked up to see the boy next to him looking back at him in something resembling amusement. He scowled harder.
"And if I do?" He snapped, temper on far too short a fuse.
"Then I'll order you one," the boy replied simply, smiling softly.
Oh.
He flagged down the bartender and gestured back at Shouto. "My friend wants a refill, if you wouldn't mind. Put it on my tab - under Iida, I believe.”
...Friend?
Shouto stared at him blatantly, curious.
"What were you drinking?" The boy asked, glancing down at his glass.
Shouto followed his gaze, staring down at the dregs of his drink. "I have no idea," he replied honestly. The bartender laughed at that - though Shouto didn't think he'd been making a joke.
"I'll fix you up something special," he said with a wink. Shouto just nodded. When he'd swept away with Shouto's empty glass, the boy - though looking closer, he was more of a man than a boy - turned back to him, eyes bright and curious.
"Why did you call me your friend?" Shouto asked bluntly before he could say anything. The man blinked, taken aback, before he started flushing a lovely pink.
"W-Well, saying that I'm buying a drink for a stranger has... i-implications," he replied slowly, eyes averted.
Shouto nodded, though he didn't quite get it. He should thank him, right? Shouto wasn't quite used to thanking people - that wasn't 'princely behavior', according to his father - but it seemed befitting of a moment like this.
"Thank you," Shouto said plainly. "I'll buy your next one."
The man’s green eyes twinkled.
“The next one, huh? That’s a bit presumptuous, wouldn’t you say?” He teased, making Shouto scowl.
“I’m trying to be nice, but you’re making me regret it,” he ground out, making his companion laugh.
“I’m only joking,” the man said brightly, grinning up at the bartender when he set two drinks down before them. “An ale for me,” he said, pulling one mug towards himself. “And a… mystery drink for you!”
“A mystery drink,” Shouto repeated blandly. “Delightful.”
It was, actually. Taking a tentative sip, he found that whatever the bartender had whipped up for him was a hundred times better than the vile concoction he’d been drinking earlier.
“Thank you,” he said again. Two thanks in a night - that was a record for Shouto.
“Ah, it’s no bother,” the man replied. “You seemed a little… out of sorts, if I’m being honest.”
Shouto bit back a snort, his lips twitching. ‘Out of sorts’ was a gross understatement, but he supposed it fit his predicament to a certain extent.
“You could say that.”
The man took a heavy swig of his ale, sighing heavily.
“What’s your name?” Shouto asked after a moment.
“I’m Mi- Ah! Er... I’m- I’m De…ku,” the man said slowly. This obviously wasn’t his first drink of the night if he couldn’t even remember his own name. “Yeah… Deku.”
“Deku is a terrible name,” Shouto replied bluntly. Who called their child useless? Unless, of course, Deku was also hiding his real identity. It wasn’t like Shouto could judge him for that.
Deku just laughed quietly. “Yes, I suppose it is. Do you have a better one?”
Shouto clicked his tongue. He couldn’t very well say ‘Todoroki Shouto, Crown Prince and Royal Mess’, but something about giving out an entirely fake name felt… wrong, somehow. He didn’t want to lie to the boy with constellations of freckles on his cheeks and stars in his eyes.
“Icy Hot,” he said finally.
Deku stared at him. “...Icy Hot.”
Shouto nodded. “Icy Hot.”
“I’m not going to call you Icy Hot,” Deku replied, sounding suspicious.
“Do what you want, Deku,” Shouto shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I know your name is fake. What’s wrong with mine?”
Deku narrowed his eyes. “Point. How about… Icy?”
Shouto scoffed. “Nicknames already? A bit presumptuous, wouldn’t you say?” He replied, his chest warming a bit when Deku laughed at his mockery.
“You’ve got a silver tongue, Icy,” Deku teased.
“So I’ve been told.”’
Deku laughed again - he did that a lot, Shouto was realizing.
“So, Icy,” he said after a moment. “What brings you to this tavern?”
Shouto’s lips tugged down into a frown. “Personal matters. I don’t care to discuss it.” No way was he spilling his guts to a stranger he’d met less than five minutes ago - no matter how disarmingly kind and attractive that stranger was. Shouto had retained at least some of his etiquette training.
Deku just nodded. “I figured as much,” he replied. “Well, that makes things easier.”
“Easier?” Shouto echoed. What, was this man going to kidnap him or something? He seemed very fit, sure, but not the type to be in the human trade.
“Well, that means you won’t press me about my personal matters, either,” Deku reasoned.
Shouto hummed in agreement, casting a glance over at Deku’s friends, who were sitting in a booth over in the corner. The tall one seemed to be telling a story of some sort, gesturing sharply with his hands as the woman swirled a glass of red wine in her hand, smiling up at him softly.
“They’ve been married for three weeks,” Deku said quietly, making Shouto blink in surprise.
“That’s not long,” Shouto noted. They looked comfortable around each other in a way that spoke of longer than three weeks.
“No,” Deku agreed. “But it’s been a long time coming. They both work… dangerous jobs. They put their lives on the line every day. They didn’t want to make anything… official, because that means more to lose.”
Shouto hummed thoughtfully, watching as the woman tipped her head back, laughing at something the man said.
“Then they realized… how lucky they were. To have each other. They eloped in less than a day - we have a friend who’s a priest who helped out.” Deku sounded… not quite sad, but wistful. An odd mix of hopeless and hopeful.
“They’re very fortunate to have found each other,” Shouto said quietly.
He wished he could marry someone he loved, instead of terrible, awful, putrid Midoriya Izuku.
“Very fortunate, indeed,” Deku echoed.
They sat in silence for a moment, sipping quietly at their drinks as they watched Deku’s friends slowly lean further into each other.
“What’s the prettiest view in Endeavor?” Deku asked out of the blue, drawing Shouto’s attention from the romantic display in the booth.
“What?”
Deku dropped his chin onto his fist. “I’ve never been here before, and I want to make the most out of tonight. Where should I go?”
Shouto let out a slow breath. “I don’t know.” And really, he didn’t. He rarely left the castle, and even then he was in a carriage. He didn’t know the city like a civilian would, he had no clue where to find the best food or the best views.
“Oh,” Deku replied half-heartedly, turning back to the bar, his back slouched in obvious disappointment.
Well… Shouto didn’t know the city…
He stared at the boy next to him, at his handsome freckled face, and his curly green hair, and his strong, scarred hands.
“I know a place we can go,” He said. Deku perked up from where he had slumped over his ale, eyes glistening from a mixture of excitement and intoxication.
“We?” He echoed excitedly, and Shouto scratched at his cheek sheepishly.
“Well… you need a tour guide, don’t you?”
A lame excuse. Shouto knew he just wanted to spend his last night of freedom with this man with sunshine in his smile.
Deku grinned. “Of course I do, Icy!”
It didn’t take much convincing to get Deku’s friends to let him leave. By ‘not much’, he meant sneaking out the back door before they could spot them leaving together.
Deku had left the bartender with a silver piece and instructions to tell them that he’d left with a friend in an hour’s time - long enough that they wouldn’t be able to catch up and force Deku to return back to wherever he was running from. Shouto wasn’t going to press the matter - it wasn’t like he was walking around spewing his life story, so it wasn’t fair to expect Deku to do any different.
But he had to admit. He was curious.
What could a boy like him be running away from?
Shouto glanced down at the man by his side, watching as Deku looked around with wide eyes, drinking in the sights of Endeavor at night.
“Your kingdom is beautiful,” he said in a half reverent whisper. Shouto watched the way the moonlight made his eyes look as if they were glowing, bright and shining and more stunning than any of the colors Shouto had seen.
“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, not taking his eyes off of Deku’s face. “Beautiful.”
The moment broke as Deku looked back up at him, smiling so brightly Shouto had to force himself to look ahead.
“I thought you said you didn’t know your way around the city, Icy,” Deku said as Shouto nudged his shoulder to get him to turn the next corner.
“I don’t,” Shouto replied. “I just know the way to this place.”
Deku hummed contentedly, and let himself be guided down the cobbled path.
Some of the anxious tension started to melt from Shouto’s shoulders as the streets slowly became more familiar. He’d only been half-confident that he’d be able to find his way when they’d left the tavern - and getting lost would have been terribly embarrassing.
Although, maybe getting lost with a man like Deku at his side wouldn’t be so bad.
Shouto clenched his jaw, forcing his eyes forward as they kept drifting towards his companion.
He was getting married. Shouto was getting married and he shouldn’t be going around getting infatuated with men he met in shady bars, whose real names he didn’t know.
And yet…
Deku was like a star, endlessly and intoxicatingly bright. He was obliviously pulling Shouto in, trapping him in orbit. If this man, this charming, brilliant young man was like the sun, then maybe for one night - just one night - Shouto could allow himself to be the moon.
To hell with Midoriya Izuku.
Shouto was giving himself one night - and he was going to spend it with Deku.
“Er- Icy? Not to, ah, rain on your parade, but… I’m about one hundred percent sure we aren’t allowed in there.”
Shouto blinked, tilting his head up to just barely make out the top of the massive stone wall of the outer ring of the castle in front of them. They’d arrived while he was busy stewing, then. Lucky for him that his subconscious had led them the right way, considering Shouto hadn’t been paying a lick of attention for the last ten minutes.
“Don’t worry about it,” was all he said in response, turning on his heel to walk down the path that ran parallel to the wall.
“Don’t worry—? Icy, we’re just about inside the castle! We definitely aren’t supposed to be here!” Deku exclaimed, sounding much more worried than Shouto would have thought he would. Maybe he had something against royalty.
Shouto bit back a self deprecating chuckle at that.
“The guards won’t mind if you don’t actually go past the wall. The only person who’d bother to punish you is the king, and he wouldn’t deign to walk around with the slums in plain sight,” Shouto all but sneered.
Deku just hummed nervously, shuffling awkwardly to tuck himself into Shouto’s side as they walked.
“I just- don’t want to get caught, I guess. Wouldn’t want to make Tenya and Ochako pick me up from prison,” he joked anxiously.
Shouto wasn’t listening. He’d ascended to the heavens at the feeling of a warm body pressed almost flush against his side.
Deku stayed tucked against him as they walked, though neither of them mentioned it. Shouto just squeezed him a little tighter every few minutes, fighting the urge to run a hand up and down his arm.
All his life, he’d barely been touched by anyone. His father only touched him to hurt him, his siblings weren’t allowed to see him. Momo nudged his arm every now and again, and shook him awake when he was groggy, but their friendship had never been a tactile one.
So why did he keep finding his fingers twitching with the urge to tangle with Deku’s? Why was his arm squeezing tighter, instead of pushing him away?
Deku, it seemed, was inexplicable. He was an outlier, an exception to the rules.
Shouto didn’t think he minded.
It felt too soon when Shouto finally slowed his pace, coming up on the edge of the path they’d been walking. He nudged Deku forward, pushing him up the hill in front of them until they crested it - revealing a marvelous view of the capital city, sprawling roads winding into the hills, twisting into the forests surrounding them.
Deku gasped, leaning so far forward he almost fell.
“It’s so… so beautiful!” He said breathlessly. “Wow.”
Shouto felt the corners of his mouth tug up into a smile as Deku looked back at him, eyes alight.
“Thank you for showing me this,” he said, and it was so sincere, so earnest, that Shouto couldn’t help but press a soft kiss to the top of Deku’s head.
Deku just laughed, his cheeks red as cherries as he pulled Shouto to sit next to him.
They talked for what felt like hours. About everything, about nothing. Shouto said things that Deku laughed at, even if he didn’t mean them as jokes. Deku said things he didn’t mean to, before turning red and tucking his face into his hands.
They sat on the hill, and even though Deku carried most of the conversation, Shouto talked more than he ever had in his life.
It was easy, with Deku. He didn’t feel like he had to hide something, like he was pretending to be someone he wasn’t.
Icy felt more real than Shouto ever had.
“Tell me something,” Deku said after the conversation had lulled, his hands tucked under his head as they lay side by side, bathing in the moonlight. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else before.”
Something he’d never told anyone else before.
A secret.
“I hate my fiancé,” Shouto whispered to the sky, to Deku, to the emptiness around them.
He expected Deku to be confused. To ask why, who, how long. To demand to know why Shouto had been stringing him along all night when he was promised to someone else. Or maybe to tell him that it would get better, that he should grit his teeth and bear it, that he shouldn’t have become engaged in the first place. To tell him that he should be lucky to marry a prince like Midoriya Izuku.
Instead, Deku laughed. Bright and open and carefree, he laughed, eyes scrunched up and mouth wide.
Shouto turned his head to stare at him indignantly, frowning. “It’s not funny.”
“No- No, it’s not! I-I swear, I’m not laughing at you!” Deku snorted.
“Oh, really,” Shouto deadpanned. “I feel as though some evidence is pointing to the contrary.”
Deku snorted again, slapping a crooked hand over his mouth as his eye glinted with mirth. Shouto couldn’t resist the urge to smile back at him, even if it felt tight and awkward. Like he’d almost forgotten how.
The moment stilled as Deku brought his hand down from his mouth, lying it back on the grass between them.
In a surge of wild impulsivity, Shouto tangled their fingers together. He heard the catch in Deku’s breath before he squeezed their hands just slightly. Shouto squeezed back.
He’d never held anyone’s hand before.
“I wasn’t laughing at you,” he repeated, a trace of teasing still in his voice. “I was laughing at how… similar our situations are.”
Shouto stiffened, his hand clenching around Deku’s. Crooked fingers squeezed back, a warm thumb rubbing up and down the side of his hand.
“I’ve never even seen my fiancé. My father - he’s the one who arranged the marriage - though I supposed it was more arranged for him… anyways, he’s not even met my future husband. He’s seen portraits in his… er- house, but…” Deku glanced at him.
“I think he has eyes like yours. But, other than that…” His gaze flitted over Shouto’s face, passing over where people usually would have stopped to gawk at the scar or the hair. “No... you look too different from what he’s described.”
Shouto’s eyebrows raised, disbelieving. “Are you implying that you’d rather it be me?”
“Better you than someone who was described to me as ‘cold as ice’,” Deku lamented.
Shouto winced. He’d had that phrase used to talk about him quite a few times - not that he felt as though it was wrong or that he didn’t deserve it, but… it didn’t paint a picture of the nicest man.
“I’m sorry,” was all Shouto could say.
“Me too,” Deku said in return.
Then he turned his head, looking at Shouto so deeply that he felt he might melt.
“Hey, Icy… if this is the wrong thing to say, feel free to get up and leave, but…” Deku trailed off, his voice faltering. “Can I kiss you?”
And Shouto turned his head so their foreheads were a centimeter from touching and said, “Yes.”
Deku’s lips were warm when he tilted his head up to meet Shouto’s, warm and soft and lovely. The hand not currently tangled in Shouto’s came up to brush the side of Shouto’s cheek, warm fingers dancing over his cheekbone and cupping the soft skin where his jaw met his ear.
Shouto made a pitiful noise somewhere in the back of his throat that was so embarrassing, he almost pulled back and rolled all the way down the hill in shame - but instead Deku surged forward, letting go of Shouto’s hand to push himself up until he was on top of Shouto, their lips never parting.
Both hands now free, Shouto danced explorative fingers up Deku’s sides, mapping every nook and cranny of his torso. The man above him groaned when Shouto slipped a hand under his tunic, running the pad of his finger over toned, warm skin.
It was bliss, kissing Deku.
It was magic and bliss and quite possibly the best thing Shouto had ever felt.
And maybe that was just the mystery drink talking - but somehow Shouto felt that the only thing he was drunk on was lust and the feeling of how warm Deku’s muscled back felt under his fingers.
It felt like an eternity had passed when Deku pulled away, his gaze lingering on Shouto’s lips before he tore it away to look into the distance. Shouto awkwardly twisted his neck to follow his stare, mumbling a few very un-princely words when he saw Deku’s friends from the bar jogging towards them. The tall man was yelling something, waving his arms around stiffly as the girl gestured with an angry finger.
Deku sighed, dropping his head down until soft curls brushed against Shouto’s chin.
“They’re gonna skin me alive, catching me like this,” he mumbled.
Shouto placed an awkward hand on top of his head in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but felt more like praising a dog. Nevertheless, Deku looked up, his eyes wide.
“Not- not that I regret this- you! You were… you were…”
“Yeah,” Shouto finished lamely. “I get it.”
If it was Momo coming up that hill, she wouldn’t have even bothered with yelling - she would have just grabbed Shouto by the ear and hauled him back to his quarters.
Deku’s eyes shone with something that looked suspiciously like tears. “I know that me… and you… we can’t- we just can’t. But I hope I see you again someday,” he said earnestly, though he couldn’t hide the undertones of melancholy in his voice.
Shouto could do nothing but nod as Deku smiled down at him, rocking back on his heels. Shouto sat up slowly, propping himself up onto his elbows as Deku stood fully.
“Bye, Icy.”
“Goodbye, Deku.”
Shouto closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see Deku walk away, to see him go to his friends and duck his head as they scolded him for making out with some strange boy on some strange hill in the middle of nowhere.
“Goodbye, Deku,” he whispered again.
Part of him, a stupid, wishful part of him, listened for the sound of Deku running back, of him scrambling back up the hill armed with the offer to run away together.
But all that he heard was the sound of the night, heavy and damning.
—————
“Prince Shouto, it’s time to wake up.”
Shouto felt like an army was waging war inside of his skull.
His head pounded something awful, his ears ringing dully. He hadn’t even attempted to open his eyes and already they stung, the light from his curtains prickling through his lids even when he squeezed them shut so tightly he saw stars.
“Prince Shouto. Up.”
Shouto waved a limp hand towards the source of the voice, making contact with something that felt distinctly like Momo’s armor. He let his hand fall back to the bed and rolled over, groaning.
“Prince Shouto, this is why I told you not to drink too heavily last night,” she sighed, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder and shaking gently.
“You said nothing of the sort,” Shouto grumbled, shoving his face into his pillow.
“I distinctly remember it,” Momo argued softly, shaking him again. “Now, up. You’ve got breakfast with King Toshinori and Midoriya Izuku in an hour.”
Shouto wanted to sink into the pillows and die.
There was no way he could face his fiancé anymore. Absolutely no way, not after spending such a heart wrenching night with the man whose real name certainly wasn’t Deku.
Midoriya Izuku would be stuffy and annoying and he wouldn't have freckles or surprisingly muscled arms. He wouldn't be Deku.
It was strange, being torn between regret and an utter lack of it. On the one hand, Shouto wished he’d never met Deku. If he hadn’t, he would at least be complacent in his marriage, and not yearning for a future that wasn’t a possibility.
But on the other hand, Shouto wouldn’t trade that night for the world.
“Are you… Shouto, are you quite alright?”
The royal guard persona had been dropped when Shouto twisted his neck to look up at his best friend. She was kneeling by his bed, brows knitted together as she squeezed Shouto’s shoulder softly.
Momo clicked her tongue softly, her armor clinking together as she leaned forward. “You seem… different.”
“I am different,” Shouto replied quietly.
“Right…” Momo looked more than a little concerned, but she didn’t push the issue. Instead, she pulled her hand back and stood, tilting her head to the door in a silent gesture. “I’ll be out there if you need me. Breakfast is in an hour.”
Shouto was achingly slow getting ready. It felt like every step took triple the effort it usually did, his muscles protesting at every movement. He slogged through cleaning himself, scrubbing his skin lazily and imagining for a brief moment that the brush of the sponge was the swipe of Deku's hands against his waist. He held his breath in the bath, sinking to the bottom of the stone tub and refusing to come up until his lungs burned.
It felt like he was wrapping himself in chains as he buttoned up his wine red doublet - a powerful, regal color, Enji always said. Almost Shouto’s entire wardrobe was varying shades of red.
When he finally made his way out of his room, Momo was right outside the door, as promised. She followed diligently behind him as he made his way out of his wing of the castle, her back rigid and footsteps measured.
Shouto walked slowly down the hall, his feet dragging. The studs in his ears felt like they weighed a pound each, and his ornate clothes were tight and itchy - nothing like the comfortable plainclothes he’d been in the night before.
He passed his sister on the way, giving her a tight nod when she smiled sadly at him.
Her marriage had been arranged, as well. To one of Prince Eijirou’s older brothers, far to the west in Riot. It was a marriage in name alone - he hadn’t seen heads or tails of the man since their wedding, and he had no assumptions that he’d be seeing him again any time soon.
Fuyumi never seemed upset at the way things had turned out.
But she certainly wasn’t in love.
Shouto felt like he was walking through molasses as he made his way through the echoey halls. It seemed as though every step of his shiny boots echoed like a gunshot, rattling through his mind and shaking up his already turbulent thoughts. His head still pounded from the after effects of his drinks, and his eyes stung in their sockets.
The walk was both agonizingly slow and over in an instant. By the time the end of the hall loomed large just a few steps ahead of him, Shouto’s pace had slowed even further to an almost-crawl. The massive dining hall doors made him think of the gates of hell, of damnation.
With a deep, steadying breath, Shouto pushed open the door that would seal his fate.
The first thing he saw was his father’s stern face, sitting tall at the head of the table as he always did when they took guests. He looked… not quite pleased - Shouto wasn’t sure he was physically able to be pleased about anything other than bringing his family pain - but not particularly upset. It immediately turned Shouto’s stomach. Whatever brought Todoroki Enji any semblance of joy was sure to be a world of hurt for Shouto.
Shouto gaze flicked to the man sitting on Enji’s left hand side as he slowly made his way to the table.
Yagi Toshinori.
He was skinnier than Shouto would have imagined - almost sickly so. Gaunt and sallow, with strings of yellow hair hanging out from under his golden crown. His eyes were sunken in his face, though they still somehow seemed bright.
And to King Toshinori’s left-
Shouto stopped in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat in his chest at the side of a wild head of greenish curls sitting at the seat next to Toshinori.
No, no, it couldn’t be. He was imagining things, of course, projecting something that wasn’t there as a last ditch effort to change his fate.
Midoriya Izuku was in that seat.
Not Deku.
Shouto’s pulse thundered as his father stood, gesturing with a sweeping hand.
“My son, welcome. Greet the King and the Prince, boy,” Enji said in his deep baritone. Toshinori stood, too, giving Shouto a wide smile as he clasped his hands together.
Midoriya Izuku turned.
Shouto felt the floor fall out from under his feet.
Prince Izuku - Deku - seemed just as shocked to see him, his eyes widening and his jaw falling open into a little O of surprise. He looked much the same as he had the night before - same bright eyes, same freckled cheeks, same bouncy curls.
Except now, he had a diadem nestled in between coiled locks, his clothes rich and fitted. A forest green tunic with gold embroidery and pale breeches were bright against his tan skin, making him certainly look the part of the boyish prince.
Prince.
Deku was the Prince.
“Don’t just stand there, boy,” Enji scolded loudly, making Shouto jump, finally tearing his eyes from Deku’s. “Don’t be as insolent as you usually are when we have guests.”
Shouto nodded, striding forward quickly and keeping his head down as he pulled out the seat at his father’s right, across from Toshinori. And Deku.
But he wasn’t Deku, was he?
He was Midoriya Izuku.
Shouto stared at the whorls of wood in the table instead of looking back up at the other men, trying desperately to sort through his tumultuous thoughts.
Deku was Midoriya Izuku.
Midoriya Izuku was Deku.
“Excuse me?”
Oh, God, that voice. It was exactly the same as it had been last night - of course it was, it wasn’t as if he could just change his voice, but still.
“Could I have a moment alone with Prince Shouto?” Deku? Midoriya? Izuku? asked quietly, but with an air of authority. He spoke like a royal, Shouto realized. He hadn’t noticed the night before, but he spoke like the nobility.
“Of course, my boy,” Toshinori said kindly, and Shouto saw his skeletal hand come to pat Izuku on the shoulder from where he stood.
“I have matters to attend to with Toshinori anyway,” Enji chimed in gruffly. He didn’t pat Shouto on the shoulder.
“Don’t be an idiot,” he said instead. Shouto nodded dumbly.
A gentle hand pressed between his shoulder blades as Momo leaned down to his ear with a whispered I’ll be outside the doors if you need me.
Shouto nodded minutely at her, finally lifting his head to see Izuku’s guards passing along a similar message - and with a shock, he realized that they were Deku’s friends from the bar. The ones who’d recently gotten married, who worked such dangerous jobs.
Guarding the Crown Prince of Yuuei was certainly one way to put your life on the line.
Izuku’s guards gave Shouto a short nod, as well, which was certainly unexpected, but not unwelcome. They seemed like kind, good people. Izuku seemed to trust them, at the very least.
When at last the hall was empty, Shouto finally looked up at Midoriya Izuku.
It really was Deku’s face, just with more done up hair and a cleaner shirt. The same disarming sparkle in his eye, the same galaxy of freckles on his cheeks.
He was… the same.
“Icy,” Izuku finally greeted.
“Deku,” Shouto returned.
“So… this is what you were running away from, huh?”
Shouto nodded once. Izuku nodded back.
“Me too,” he said quietly. “You look different - with the hair.”
“And the scar,” Shouto finished for him.
Izuku smiled at him. “I don’t mind it, really. It makes you look… mysterious.”
“The guards,” Shouto said, not even attempting to form a thought about Izuku not minding his horrible scar. “Your friends who got married.”
Izuku laughed, and it was Deku’s laugh. “Right, yeah. Tenya and Ochako are my closest friends, actually, alongside being my guards. They’d been together for a while, like I said, but, ah- they got together after my father came home. From visiting your father.”
“When the marriage was arranged,” Shouto finished for him.
“They saw how… lucky they were, I guess,” Izuku said quietly, still holding Shouto’s gaze firmly. “That they got to choose.”
“I hated you.”
“I can’t say the feeling wasn’t mutual.”
Shouto knitted his brows together. “I don’t… want to hate you. I… last night was- it was the best night I’ve ever had. You…” he trailed off, casting his eyes down.
Izuku seemed to understand what he meant. “Yeah. I, uh… I actually really, really liked this guy named Icy. He was kind, and smart, and funny when he didn’t mean to be. I wished…”
Shouto glanced up at him.
“I really wished I was marrying him instead of my fiancé,” Izuku admitted, a small smile on his face.
“I… have to say that I felt the same,” Shouto replied, equally soft.
“Well then, Shouto,” Izuku said, leaning forward and setting his hand on the table, palm up. Shouto’s hand rose to tangle their fingers together of their own volition.
“I think that we might have gotten lucky ourselves.”