Chapter Text
Sword in your hand, hair in your face, feet planted on the ground, you felt the hot and slightly putrid dragon breath on your skin. Every small movement you made, it responded with a deep growl. Understanding when to stand down, you dropped your weapon, kicking it away.
You put a hand out, hanging your head. Its wet nose got close, sniffing and kicking the ground. Satisfied, it reared with its hands- or paws out. Its claws closed around you, never actually causing harm. Rather, they acted as a cage. Then it took flight.
The ground got smaller and smaller beneath you, the metal of your sword now impossible to find. You started hitting the claw cage, demanding to be put down. The dragon paid no heed to your requests, wings flapping above you. He took you high over trees, over spots with houses and people, flying past without a second wasted. Not wanting to be led to a dragon cave and eaten for dinner, you continued your protests.
“Let! Me! Down! I came here for one reason, and it won’t be ruined because of some relentless dragon!” you didn’t figure it would actually understand. But of course, it did.
The claws opened, and suddenly there was nothing but open air beneath you. Bugs hit your face as the ground came rushing back, too fast, too soon. You prepared to be a splat on the earth until at once, the claw cage was back around you.
This time you stayed quiet.
You had no idea where the animal was taking you, the blur of fields was too fast for your vision. That is, until you were ceremonially dropped on a shimmering marbled floor. Your reflection gleamed back up, showing a scratch on your cheek you hadn’t felt before.
“Stand up, peasant.” A voice boomed off the walls, even the chandelier stood frozen in fear above you. Lifting your head slowly, you saw the raised throne. It was adorned in gold, intricate designs traveled up the arms and backside. Seated was a boy with a delicate crown on his head. It contrasted against his hard eyes and sharp features.
When you didn’t immediately follow his orders, he stood. The maroon cape with tuft furred ends draped across his shoulders, skimmed the floor. His leafed crown tilted. He didn’t move to fix it. His steps were heavy, and you watched his boots get closer with each stride. He leaned down, hand wrapping around the fabric at your neck, and hoisted you up in one move.
His grip was tight, but you managed to wrap your palm around his fist. Your other hand found the dagger hidden in your leg sheath. When he began to lift you off the ground, you pulled your arm forward, setting the knife against the soft skin of his neck.
“Get your hands off me.” You spat. His eyes widened in surprise, but his lips lifted into a grin. He kept you on the floor and waved off the guards coming foward from the shadows. You flinched at the cold feel of metal against your own jaw. Turns out you weren’t the only one with hidden weapons.
He kept his face close to yours, red eyes burning in the direct light.
“Care to introduce yourself?”
When you spoke, his eyes moved down, watching your mouth move. “I thought you’d never asked.” You smirked. “I’m y/n, princess of Heart. And you are?”
He leaned down, lips barely grazing your ear. “King of Ace." He paused and sighed, thinking, "What a familiar name… I hear we are to wed? I must say, what an entrance.”
You leaned into his ear, thinking two could play at that game. “You heard correctly although, I’m sorry to say I never received a ring. Surely, it must have been a mistake of some sort.”
He let you go, slipping his dagger back in its sleeve. “My deepest apologies, Your Highness. It was a true mistake on my part.” He spread his arms wide, mock respect dripping in his voice. “For now, you’ll have to make do with my undying love in place.”
You shrugged, crossing your arms. “I suppose, until of course, I have the finest of metals wrapped around my finger.”
He turned, his clawed necklaces rattling. “Of course.”
Your weapon still in hand, you waved it around while speaking. “So will I be staying in this cell of a room or-?”
Tired of you already, he began walking out the room, expecting you to follow. You stepped through sparsely decorated halls, seeing a glass vase here, an enclosed sword there. The plush rug beneath you, being the only piece of consistent décor. It had dark red hues with bits of blue in between the designs.
Finally, he came to a gold handled door. It was twice your height, an overstatement if you’d ever seen one. Opening it, you walked in behind him. If you thought the last room was big, this one was unimaginable. A four-poster bed sat against a wall to your right with a large vanity across from it. Sitting areas were scattered, with the furthermost wall being a full-length window. The view was breathtaking, filled with grassy hills and glittering ponds.
He watched silently as you walked—almost in a trance—to the clear glass. It was evening by now. The sun produced a range of beautiful rays across the skyline as it dipped into the horizon. Putting a hand up against it, you could feel the chill of the night through the windowpane. Coming from the snow-capped mountains, it felt like a piece of home.
Taking a seat, Katsuki leaned back. He was offered a wine glass, clearly filled with a different concoction; still he took long sips. You turned back and he offered you the seat in front of him. You sighed, wondering what he wanted now. It had been a long trip, one you made on your own as well. And all you wanted to do was get under the thick covers and stay there.
“Time to talk strategy.” He moved forward, elbows resting on his knees. He motioned to the lingering guards, and they filed out, clicking the door closed behind them. With everyone gone, your body relaxed, no longer stiff or worried about whether you were sitting up straight enough. He noticed, making small mental note of it.
“I agree. My mother has sent me with news.” In truth, it took months of proving you were ready for her to “send” you anywhere. Queen Rumi, also known as Mirko, was your mom first; but being a monarch for the people always came a close second. She was known for her fierce nature and pure spirit, but you knew her as the person who read you old bedtime stories when you couldn’t sleep.
He nodded, wanting you to go on. You took a deep breath, meeting his burnt red eyes. “The Queen of Spades has died.”