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It’s your last night of freedom, so you want to enjoy it to the fullest. With a simple black mask concealing the upper half of your face, you’ll be anonymous among the sea of people in the marketplace. No one will recognize you for who you are—for what you are.
They’ll never know their princess is among them.
You blend seamlessly with the crowd, moving with the flow until you see stalls that catch your interest. No one here will judge you if you have one too many snacks in your hands, so you follow delicious scents in the air, purchasing candied fruits, fluffy bread, crisp pastries, and skewers of seasoned vegetables and meat.
Something interesting happens when you’re at the skewer stall. As you’re waiting for your order to finish grilling, someone steps up beside you and slams two copper coins onto the counter.
“I want a chili glazed chicken skewer, with extra spicy dipping sauce on the side.” The rough voice is demanding, and the stall owner nods quickly, putting another skewer on the grill.
You huff a quiet laugh. Someone really likes the heat. “Trying to burn yourself from the inside out?” you ask, glancing at the stranger out of the corner of your eyes.
He’s tall, and his shoulders are broad, though the black cape draped on him conceals some of his figure. The hood is pulled over his head, casting his face in dark shadows. Though when he turns slightly to look at you, there’s a flash of red as lamplight makes his eyes shine.
“That? That probably doesn’t even have much of a kick.”
You eye the bright red glaze that the stall owner coats the chicken skewer in. “Right…”
The stranger scoffs, but doesn’t say anything. His weight shifts and he rests his forearms on the edge of the counter, body turning slightly toward you, gaze heavy as he takes in your mask. You can’t help yourself from touching the edge of it, making sure that it stays put.
“So,” you start, trying to take his attention off your face, “where are you from? Not from around here, I think; your clothes don’t quite match the current fashion.”
He doesn’t respond right away, but “Yuuei” eventually slips past his lips.
Your eyes widen, then a bit of fire starts to burn in your chest. “Oh. Yuuei,” you say, rather meanly.
He snarls. “You got a problem with that?”
“Yeah,” you spit back. “Of course I have a problem with Yuuei. Of course I have a problem with the country that wants to ally itself with mine, by taking away my freedom!”
The stranger straightens up, and his voice is dark and full of fury. “Well your country is taking mine away, too! When the fuck did I sign up for getting married? Who the hell wants to ‘grow connections’ by such shit conditions, anyway?”
You find yourself sympathizing with him the more he speaks, the anger that had flared up in you settling back down into embers. He sounds like he’s almost in the same situation as you. Though you’re a princess, stuck marrying the prince of Yuuei for the countries to become allies, so you’re probably a bit worse off than he is.
But then he ends with, “So get your head out of your ass, princess, you aren’t the only one with problems,” and you freeze completely, eyes wide and lips parted.
How did he figure it out?
Fingers snap in front of your face, and he leans in toward you. “Oh?” he asks, a smug lilt to his voice, his anger draining away as he finds amusement instead. “A little nickname gets you flustered, hm, princess?”
You’re relieved that he doesn’t actually know who you are, but a scowl turns down your lips at his teasing. “I’m not flustered,” you hiss, turning your head away from him.
The stall owner is a welcome distraction, handing your cooked skewer over as you slide two coppers across the counter. He seems a little nervous though, shifting, probably because the two of you had just started arguing right in front of his stand. You smile at him, apologetic.
As you start eating your food, your eyes flicker toward the stranger.
“So, uh, since you’re not from around here, want someone to show you around the market?”
Bakugou mulls your offer over as he accepts his own spicy skewer and dips the first piece of chicken into the hot sauce. He normally would say no—he probably should say no—but “sure” slips out of his mouth instead.
And so, you find yourself accompanying this hooded stranger for the rest of the night.
–
He introduces himself as Katsuki after you prod him relentlessly for a name to call him by. You introduce yourself in return, only giving your first name for fear of him recognizing you as royalty from your surname.
His stomach seems to be an even deeper pit than yours; he’s put away twice the amount of food you’ve ordered every single time you stop at a food stall. He’s also skilled enough to beat the rigged stall games, throwing beanbags with such force somehow manages to shatter some of the heavy bottles. And when he wins the grand prize of a giant stuffed wolf, he shoves the thing into your arms and stalks away. You look down at the wolf plushie, grinning when you notice its red eyes, and hurry after him.
Later in the evening, you take him by the weapon stalls when he mentions that he’s looking for a new sword. Various blacksmiths from the area display their wares on long tables, each piece gleaming under the soft lantern light.
“What about this one, Katsuki?” you ask, pointing at a double-edged sword.
Bakugou barely spares it a glance. “Too small,” he replies, and your jaw drops.
“How big of a sword are you even looking for?” The one you had pointed out is as long as one of your arms, though the blade isn’t too wide.
He doesn’t respond for a moment as he glances further down the table. “One like... one like this.”
He looks to the blacksmith, who gives him a nod, and Bakugou lifts up the claymore, one hand on the hilt and the other palm supporting the blade. It’s at least half his height, and you’re in awe of the strength it takes to carry it, let alone to wield it in a fight.
“That one?”
Bakugou steps back from the table and gives it a few experimental swings, moving slowly so the blade doesn’t get too close to anyone passing by. He likes how it feels in his hands, and a pleased smile spreads across his face. “Yeah. This one.”
–
So, not only do the two of you end the night with full stomachs and pleasant moods, you have a giant stuffed wolf in your arms, while Bakugou has an equally large sword strapped to his back.
The two of you make your way to the edge of the market, each knowing that the night is over and it’s time to return to your duties. You wish you could tell Bakugou that you wanted to meet again, but tomorrow morning you’ll sign away your freedom and become engaged to Yuuei’s prince.
All you can say is, “Thank you for tonight. I had a lot of fun.”
The bittersweet smile on your face makes Bakugou choose his words carefully, for he also feels that slight ache in his chest. “Yeah. Me too.”
You stand there, staring into his glittering red eyes. He studies your own eyes framed by the mask, and his gaze trails down to the curve of your lips.
He wants to- he wishes- but oh how he shouldn’t, not when he knows he’ll never see you again. So Bakugou doesn’t let himself do what he desires in the moment, and speaks again instead. “If you ever come to Yuuei and we somehow meet up again, I’ll repay the favor.”
A brilliant smile lights up your face, and you nod eagerly. You don’t think about how unlikely that will be. You don’t think about the responsibilities you have. You only think about him, and hold out your pinky.
“Pinky promise?” It’s a children’s thing, but you want to tease him and see if he’ll actually do it.
Bakugou sighs and rolls his eyes, but links his pinky with yours anyways. “Promise.”
Your fingers stay linked for another moment. When you’re about to break the link, Bakugou turns your hand over, and ducks his head down to press his lips to the back of your hand. His movements are smooth; well practiced, as if he’s a member of the nobility who has to do this often.
He looks up, red eyes piercing as he smirks at your flustered expression. “Goodnight, princess. Get home safe.”
You nod, and he straightens, hand slowly withdrawing from yours. The back of your hand feels hot in one spot, and your palm is warm too. “Y-yeah. Stay safe yourself.”
Bakugou nods at you before turning away, long legs carrying him away from you and off into the night. You watch him until he disappears from sight, before sighing and making your way to the carriage you arrived in.
One of your maids hops out of the carriage and immediately fusses over you, smoothing out the layers of your dress that had started to wrinkle from hours of walking around. You let her do that for a couple of seconds, before hopping into the carriage. The giant wolf plushie is soft and warm in your arms, and you can barely peer around the side of it at your maid.
“What did you do while I was at the market?” you ask.
She starts talking, and you let your mind wander. It drifts to thoughts of ruby eyes and a sharp blade, and a rough voice that warms you from the inside out. It’s a voice that you’ll miss, you decide.
You can only hope that the prince of Yuuei will be half as interesting as the stranger you met today.
–
Funnily enough, it turns out that the prince of Yuuei is exactly as interesting as the stranger you met last night.
Your day starts off at the crack of dawn, which isn’t exactly great since you were out late in the markets. But you let your maids dress you up in something fancy, stringing a gemstone-embedded necklace around your neck. You’d much rather be in the lighter gown you wore yesterday, but foreign princes are pretty important and your parents would scold you if you showed up in anything less than what royalty should wear.
By the time you’re dressed and have shoveled something down for breakfast, it’s time for the Yuuei representatives to meet with you and your parents.
You sit down just moments before the people from Yuuei are announced, and enter the room. You look down at the table, stubbornly keeping yourself from looking at any of them. If your fiance-to-be is in the room, you’d rather not acknowledge him until you have to.
Your parents and the representatives exchange pleasantries for a bit, before they grow more serious and start discussing terms of the alliance. Their voices pass through one ear and out the other, and your mind only snatches little phrases here and there.
Suddenly, a new voice joins the conversation; a rough and deep and familiar one that makes your back stiffen and your heartbeat quicken.
“Is my fiance so opposed to this arrangement that she finds the table the most interesting thing in the room?”
The insult prickles, but is overshadowed by the fact that you recognize the voice. You lift your head slowly, and scan the people in the room. Your eyes stop on a male around your age, sprawled in his seat with one leg dangling over the armrest. His fingers tap steadily against the sheath of a giant sword that leans against the side of his chair.
And ruby eyes glitter at you from across the room.
Your own eyes widen, and you shoot to your feet. “Katsuki!” His name spills past your lips, and the joy in your voice is obvious to all in the room. This is so much better than all the other possibilities your mind had conjured up in the weeks leading up to today.
Bakugou frowns. Why do you sound familiar, even though you haven’t said anything in this meeting before now?
You reign yourself in after your mother shoots you a concerned look. You’re a princess, after all, you better act like one in front of all these people—regardless of how Bakugou is acting, though he’s a prince.
A prince that you’re to marry, a voice inside of you whispers.
You clear your throat. “Prince Bakugou,” you say, realizing why he only told you his first name last night, “I have no objections to this arrangement. After all, I believe you promised to show me around Yuuei’s markets someday, and I intend to hold you to that.”
The more you talk, the more the pieces click together in Bakugou’s mind. And by the end of your response, Bakugou is on his feet, mirroring your stance from across the table.
A genuine grin stretches across his face, and he nods at you. “I don’t break my promises. Looks like you’ll be stuck with me for a long while, princess. Hope you don’t mind.”
You wink. “Oh, I don’t mind at all.”
Yes, the prince of Yuuei is just as interesting as the stranger from the market. And you are so glad for it.