Archive of Our Own

Balls were never really Hitoshi's kind of thing.

He didn't like the stuffy suits he was shoved into, the boring small talk he was constantly forced to endure. The food was nice, though he rarely got to eat any of it, and the drink was fine, though he wasn't allowed much of it. Can't have the Crown Prince making a fool of himself, now can we?

No, he much preferred to slip away from the general hubbub of these events, moving to the gardens where he could just sit and admire the stars as the conversations in the ballroom faded into background noise. He used to hide within the gardens to escape his duties, if only for a few minutes.

But that was a long time ago. And though he'd found new places to run away to, he couldn't escape them now. His father was growing old and Hitoshi was eligible for the throne. There was no other option, really.

Hitoshi would disagree, and could point out the numerous other people that could be trusted to sit atop the throne and continue to guide their people. Father wouldn't listen to reason though, despite how 'logical' he seemed to everyone else he wouldn't listen to reason about this. Not after what had become of the previous ruling family.

Hitoshi would usually just brush it aside with the attitude of "that's a problem for later, or hopefully never" in mind, but he couldn't do that tonight.

Today was his coronation. This ball was being held in his honour. In a few short hours, after the celebration was done, his fathers would accompany him to the shrine where he would be welcomed as the new ruler of his father's kingdom.

And that was a problem. Not only because Hitoshi didn't want to rule, but because he was here, at a ball being held in his honour, and he couldn't help but want to be somewhere else. With someone else…

But things were never that simple, which is why Hitoshi was here, listening to Neito of all people complain about how terrible the kingdom is.

"–even the idea that a high-standing Prince such as myself would bathe without my servants is preposterous. Who will wash my hair? Who will dry me when I am finished?" The other Prince moaned. He never failed to mention this any time they visited Hitoshi's father's kingdom.

In the beginning, Hitoshi thought it was because he was trying to piss him off, but he genuinely couldn't be sure if Neito even knew how to dress by himself. At twenty years of age, to tie the laces of his boots may prove to be a difficult challenge for the blonde. Hitoshi certainly wouldn't be surprised by it. Not at all.

He was a capable person with a strategic mind, but he often failed to complete simple tasks. Thought if you asked him to do something grand, he would succeed in ways you could never begin to imagine.

"I'm sure someone as capable as yourself will be fine without your precious servants for a few days, no?" Hitoshi teased the other man — not a boy, not anymore, though only barely. Neito, for all he liked to brag about being better than everyone else, was quite dependent on his servants.

Although he wasn't really to blame for that, it was more so the fault of his parents. His parents who, while dedicated to their kingdom's health and wellbeing, weren't truly meant for parenthood. Thankfully however, Neito was an only child, meaning there weren't any other fucked up Monoma children running around and causing havoc.

"Monoma. If I might steal Hitoshi away from you for a moment?" His father's voice came from behind him, words phrased as a question though it was more of an order. And even Monoma wasn't stupid enough to refuse the king.

Hitoshi did his best not to scoff, letting his gaze travel upward to one of the many chandeliers that hung delicately from the ceiling despite their massive size, each one easily surpassing the size of a horse-drawn carriage, steeds included. Each gem and crystal looked almost like snowflakes in the reflected light. It was pretty, something in the castle Hitoshi enjoyed the look of. They were just… effortlessly graceful, something Hitoshi wished he could be, once upon a time.

"Of course, your grace." Monoma smiled at him before turning back to Hitoshi and doing something so un-Monoma that Hitoshi was still stuck wondering if he'd mistook the other man for someone else. But no, when he turned around he saw Neito striding away, probably to annoy someone else.

Neito had hugged him. Told him goodbye, as if he were being sent to war and held him as though they were family. It was so strange.

"I find it quite amusing that at a ball held to honour you and your ascension to the throne, you are nowhere to be found." His father's tone was the same as always, calm and neutral with notes of disappointment and anger. He stood beside Hitoshi, watching the people dance and talk below the balcony they stood on.

To the average observer, they would seem to be watching the dancing below them, talking to one another as father and son often do. But they would be wrong.

"Has the king ever stopped to consider that maybe his precious son does not want this?" Hitoshi bit back. Covering up his intentions had never been his strongest suit. He didn't see the need, when he could just be himself, other people be damned.

Hitoshi watched as his father's face shifted — minutely, but it still changed — from calm neutrality to something that was ever so slightly off. His father was angry at him.

Good.

"The king has more important things to tend to, such as the stability of the kingdom. Something his 'precious son' will have to manage himself come the morning." Hitoshi scowled at the reminder of his coronation, as if the ball wasn't enough proof that he couldn't escape this future he didn't want.

"But if the king had any other option, he would allow his son to abdicate, however he does not." He turned to face him now, anger fading away to reveal regret, something Hitoshi had only seen on his father once before. "And for that, I am sorry. If I could hand the throne to someone else, believe me, I would. But I don't have any other option."

Hitoshi snorted, a rueful smile gracing his lips as he walked to the edge of the balcony, turning his back on his father. He knew better than to do that to anyone, it was a show of vulnerability. A weakness they could exploit. But in the presence of royalty, it was beyond disrespectful.

His hands clasped the railing of the balcony, golden filigree digging into his palms and bruising his skin.

"But you have other options. You could hand the throne to Shouto or Neito, or you could continue to rule and wait for Eri to come of age! You have have many options but you won't listen-"

A strong hand encased his own, rough with calluses that rubbed against the back of his hand uncomfortably.

"Eri is not fit for the throne at present, nor will she ever be. And I am not about to entrust the safety of the kingdom to the Todoroki family or the Monomas." His father's voice was stern now, as if he were about to snap and shout at him in front of his subjects.

Not that he ever would. No, Aizawa Shouta was a master actor and could throw up a mask of indifference at any given moment.

"I'm sorry, Hitoshi. But I don't have any other options. Yagi left the kingdom in my hands, and I can't let him down after all he did for us."

They were quiet for a moment, Shouta because he longed to make things right for his son and Hitoshi because his last chance at freedom, at living a life he actually wanted, was ripped from his hands.

His father turned Hitoshi's face to look at him, fiddling with the buttons and lapels of his clothes and moving his crown ever so slightly to the left until it was something more presentable.

"Come now, the selection will begin shortly, and it wouldn't reflect well upon the future king to be late."

And with that he was off down the stairs, sure that Hitoshi would follow.

He took a moment to pull his mask over his face, an intricate black domino mask littered with purple gems and golden embroidery. Once it was on, covering from his cheeks to his eyebrows, he followed his father down the stairs.

Watching the crowd's from above and seeing as they went about their business was calming, it never failed to make Hitoshi relax.

Being in a crowd, however, was something entirely different. It was chaotic and annoying, and Hitoshi tense and paranoid.

The two experiences were on entirely different ends of the spectrum of 'Enjoying Yourself' in Hitoshi's opinion. And if he had the choice — he didn't — then we would never step foot in a crowd again.

Although the people before him were being quiet, something he rarely ever saw in public. Usually when he was in the crowd, people were constantly fighting for his attention, asking him questions and trying to sell him things he would never want.

So no, he didn't like crowds. In simple terms, they were too loud.

But like he said, the people in front of him were quiet, hushed conversation passing between groups as they waited for something to happen. Unfortunately, Hitoshi knew what the thing was.

The quiet hums of the crowd were stopped as a blonde man made his way to the edge of the dais, taking a deep breath before he began to speak.

"People of Yueei! We are gathered here in the Palace halls today to celebrate Crown Prince Aizawa Hitoshi's ascension to the throne." Hizashi, Hitoshi's other father, was interrupted by a roaring round of applause from the crowd, to which he looked back at Hitoshi and smiled.

After a few moments, when the applause had finally started to die down, Hizashi began speaking once again.

"But while today is a day of celebration and new beginnings, it is also a day of remembrance and mourning." The happy atmosphere in the ballroom muted itself at Hiash's words. "For it was on this very day, seven long years ago, that Crown Prince Yagi Izuku was taken in the dead of night, and his claim to the throne was passed on."

Hitoshi sobered slightly at the words, remembering the Prince before him. His hair was a wild green bush that he never seemed able to tame, and his cheeks held a map of the swirling galaxies and stars that watched the world from the night sky. He liked Izuku, enjoyed playing with him and watching as his face lit up with joy at the most basic of things.

That was a long time ago, when Izuku was still around. But it had done nothing to dampen Hitoshi's feelings for the other boy. If anything, it only made them stronger. He was sure that he could never love another man.

Someone was sobbing in the crowd. Probably Izuku's mother and father, if the pitying glances and whispered words in the crowd were anything to go by. They had passed the throne onto his family when Izuku was pronounced missing, too distraught to properly lead their people.

"Please, join us in a moment of silence as we remember him today."

Silence.

The very idea of silence, in a crowd this big, was preposterous. And yet, for the next ten minutes, not a sound was heard within that room. The musicians didn't play, the crowd did not speak. There was only silence.

But the moments slipped by quickly, and the music started up again all too soon, playing lively music in an effort to raise the sombre mood once more.

They watched for a little while, observing as people twirled around each other. His fathers would turn towards one another and speak in quiet tones that Hitoshi couldn’t quite hear over the music that seemed to grow louder as time went on.

Eventually though, as the music began to slow, their observation came to an end. Hizashi stood, gesturing for him to do the same before moving forward to address the crowd. They went quiet once again as he spoke, declaring how Hitoshi, as the future king, was searching for an eligible suitor — he most certainly was not—who could help him to lead Yueei towards a brighter future. Not that he was listening. Every eye in the room was on him, practically begging him to pick them.

"–Hitoshi will now choose someone from the crowd, with whom he will share his first dance." Hizashi finished, moving back to sit with his husband and watch as Hitoshi found someone to rule with, no doubt exclaiming how romantic it would be for him. Not that he could agree. Dancing with a total stranger who would, in six months time, be his new husband with whom he would share the throne until they both died, wasn't really something Hitoshi wanted. He preferred the idea of falling in love naturally, not this.

But he didn't have a choice, so he moved down the stairs that separated him and his family from the crowd and walked onto the wooden floor of the ballroom.

People parted for him as he moved, doing their best to be polite and give him space. However, their eyes betrayed them, showing how hungry they were for the power he held, how all they wanted was to rule. He never liked those kinds of people, and he wasn't about to start liking them now.

Izuku would never have acted like they did, even if he was the Crown Prince. He was always true to himself and others, displaying emotions freely, uncaring of what others thought of him. Izuku never put up masks to hide himself from others, always displaying himself as Him. Nothing more, nothing less.

His feet echoed on the floor as he walked through the crowd. People, both young and old, whom he might find even slightly appealing were pushed to the edges of the crowd where he could see them best.

He hated it. The fact that these people were so quick to sell off their children or family because he was looking for a partner. It was vile.

And he could tell that these people thought the same. These people who held a sadness in their eyes, not unlike the one Hitsohi felt in his heart when he thought of the life he couldn't have. They didn't want to be married off to someone they barely knew either.

But it was "For the good of the kingdom", and they were being presented to the Crown Prince. To deny royalty was practically treason when it came to this sort of thing and it made Hitoshi sick.

His fathers never had to do this, they were married and in love before they took the throne. They were forced into royalty, of course, so their situations weren't all that comparable. But still, Hitoshi had been raised thinking he would grow old with someone he loved, like his fathers did, only to be told that no, he didn't get that. He had to marry someone he didn't know "for the good of the kingdom".

So he walked past the people that were too hungry for power, and those that sent furtive glances across the room to someone they held dear. He walked past the wealthy families that only wanted to climb higher in society and the people who's smiles were too tight, eyes too narrow, to be natural.

Izuku wouldn't have done this. Wouldn't have wanted it, certainly. Then again, the last time Hitoshi spoke to Izuku was the night before he disappeared. They'd spoken about responsibilities and marriage, things Izuku would be expected to do in the future.



"I don't want to get married." Hitoshi declared, lying though his teeth.

The idea of finding someone he trusted enough to stay with for the rest of his life was beyond romantic, and it was all he'd ever wanted. To be happy, like his fathers were, is all he needed in life. Izuku however…

"I want to get married. I just-" the boy sighed, letting his head fall back onto his bed. "I want to get married to someone I love, but Dad says that I have to choose someone before I can love them."

Well that was bullshit, in Hitoshi's professional opinion. You can't just chose to be in love with someone, it doesn't work that way. Love comes from somewhere more special. If it were that easy to love — or not love — someone, everyone would be in love. But it wasn't. Hitoshi would know, seeing as the boy he loved was splayed out on his bed in front of him.

Life was a cruel thing, Hitoshi knew that. But to make him fall for the Crown Prince of Yueei, someone he could never even hope to be with…

It was beyond cruel, to let him hold love in his heart for Izuku.

"Well did your dad get to chose who he loved?" Hitoshi asked, bitterness creeping into his tone.

"No. He and mom knew each other since they were born because their parents were really close allies. They grew up together." Izuku's voice was sad, for some reason Hitoshi couldn't understand.

Though his heart couldn't help but leap at the mention of how Izuku's parents were friends since birth before they were married. He put an end to that train of thought, however. Izuku was the Crown Prince and Hitoshi was… he was Hitoshi. Some random noble child that was just about wealthy enough to be seen around Izuku, but not so much that he could speak to the him in such a casual manner as they were doing now. Not for the first timed did his heart pang with jealousy for those born into power, those that could win Izuku's hand when the time came.

"Then he's an idiot." Hitoshi bit out.

"You can't just staying that Hitoshi!" Izuku gasped, "What if someone heard you?"

Hitoshi rolled his eyes at Izuku's worrying before launching himself at the boy and aiming for his stomach. Izuku's gasps quickly turned to giggles as Hitoshi tickled his stomach until both boys were panting for breath.

He looked down at Izuku, who looked back up at him. They held each others gaze as the regained their breath in the quiet of Izuku's bedroom.

"If I could marry anyone in the world. I'd marry you. I- I love you Toshi."

Hitoshi was silent for a moment, too shocked to say anything, mostly by the other boys boldness than anything else. But when he regained his voice, he was all too eager to reply.

"I love you too, Zuku."



Hitoshi remembered that night well. It was the first time he'd ever told Izuku he loved him. It was also the last.

He ranted to the prince for hours about how he wished he could marry Izuku. How, if he had just been born to a wealthier family, or Izuku had never been born a royal, then they could be together.

But that was years ago, and Izuku had since disappeared. And Hitoshi was trying to find a partner that was here, in the present. There was no use dwelling on the past when he could move forward into the future.

It hurt too much to move on, so he never did. He just accepted that he would never love the person he inevitably married. There was only room in his heart for one person, and he couldn't be with him.

He walked until he people became agitated and annoyed at how long he was taking to decide. Until he saw Him.

Intelligent green eyes met his own from across the room, filled with a hunger, but it was different from the others. This was nothing to do with power, nothing at all.

The man was strange, Hitoshi decided as he moved closer to him. The black suit he wore was so different from the vibrant colours displayed on the ballroom floor, the bright red and blues that fought for everyone's attention. But this man wore black, like Hitoshi. Except where Hitoshi had a lilac waistcoat with gold accents and embroidery, this man wore a deep green shirt.

Not only was this man attractive — as his suit very kindly made obvious for everyone to see — but upon Hitoshi's arrival, the man smirked and pushed off the wall.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure, your highness?"

Good Gods, this man's voice was heavenly. It was deep and resonated deep in Hitoshi's bones.

This was the man.

Hitoshi would never love him, but he was attractive and didn't seem to care all that much about his status. He was sure to be popular with the public, even if only for his looks, and Hitoshi could tell that the man in front of him would understand his troubles of the heart.

"You're to dance with me."

"Am I?" The stranger's tone was filled with sarcasm and fake surprise as one of his eyebrows — as green as his hair — rose up his face and over his mask.

"You are." Hitoshi replied. He wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Oh, but you don't even know my name, your highness."

He met the man's eyes, through the slits in his domino mask. It was beautiful, emeralds and silver metals studded along it like stars, covering from just below his eyebrows to under his cheekbones.

Hitoshi mirrored the man's smirk, "Well I suppose you'll just have to give me something to call you by."

He was aware of the crowd's gaze — how could he not be? Half of them were glaring daggers into his back for not choosing to dance with them — but he did his best to ignore it. They weren't about to ruin this for him, especially since this man seemed to be the only one in the room that didn't care for power but also had no partner Hitoshi could steal him away from. He was perfect.

"Hmm…" the man put on a show of thinking for a name, looking around the room for a moment before settling on something in the background.

"Call me Midori. At least for the moment."

Hitoshi smiled at him, before inviting him to dance. Midori readily agreed, linking his arm through Hitoshi's and following as he led them to the middle of the room.

Something about the name 'Midori' made a small part of Hitoshi's brain light up, almost in recognition, though he couldn't figure out why.

Regardless, he continued to lead the man through the crowd until they stood at the centre of the room, in plain sight of everyone. He can feel everyone's gaze on him, some happy, some angry, others curious — that'd be his fathers. It had to be — but he hated them all equally. Hitoshi wasn't made to stand in the spotlight, he hated being the centre of attention, much like his father. But his father got over it, and he was expected to do the same.

"Something wrong, your highness?" Midori asked. Underneath the layers of cockiness and over the top flirting was a hint of concern and it made Hitoshi's heart flutter for some reason.

"No, I'm just thinking."

Midori smirked, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him closer until there was barely any space between them.

"If you've got time to think, then I'm not doing my job right." Hot breath ghosted over the shell of Hitoshi's ear and he shivered slightly, suddenly even more aware of the eyes that watched them. He was so distracted that he barely noticed as Midori moved backwards and he was left to struggle under the disapproving stares of the crowd alone.

But then the music began, the brass section announcing the beginning in short staccato notes that climbed higher and higher and only escalated from there. It was deafening in the uncomfortable silence of the room.

The rhythm was quick, and Hitoshi found himself thinking he wouldn't be able to keep up. Although that was the least of his worries, seeing as Midori had chosen a waltz as their first dance. To waltz with someone public, especially someone you weren't in love with — weren't married to — was beyond scandalous. It was humiliating, and would tank the public's opinion of Hitoshi forever.

Midori reappeared then, grabbing Hitoshi by the waist and leading him into the dance, moving gracefully back and forth and giving him no chance to escape. Somehow, by some powerful grace of the Gods, they kept in tempo, stepping in perfectly synchronised motions. But that did nothing to calm Hitoshi's heart that beat in time with the rhythm, far too fast to be healthy.

Thoughts were racing round his head even faster than the music, and he was sure it showed on his face. Midori didn't react outwardly, still looking deep into Hitoshi's eyes and making it so the prince couldn't look away. And he couldn't, Hitoshi was mesmerised by the man's eyes, dark pools of earthy green that reminded Shinsou of the towering forest of evergreens just beyond the castle. They were captivating, like precious emeralds hidden amongst the mountains just waiting to be found.

Everything else seemed to blur into the background as they danced. The music only growing stronger until Hitoshi could no longer feel the disapproving stares of strangers and family alike. Until it was just Midori and him, twisting and turning and travelling along the dance floor without a care in the world.

Midori pulled him closer when the music began to climb once again and then suddenly there was no space between them. They were chest to chest, so close that if they happened to look the wrong today they might brush lips. As it was, Midori's hair tickled the top of Hitoshi's forehead as if reaching out for him in their embrace.

They were so close and yet Midori still danced on, leading Hitoshi round the floor without looking, as if he knew if like the back of his hand. Which was impossible, of course, seeing as Hitoshi had never met this man before in his life, so he must just have great spacial awareness.

The cello punctuated another twist, sending them back towards the centre of the floor.

Though now that he thought about it, Midori had phenomenal dancing skills. Where he learned to dance, Hitoshi didn't know. Nobles and royals alike were to attend dance lessons throughout their life until they could do it with their eyes closed. He would know, they were the bane of his existence back when he was forced through them. But this man… Hitoshi had never met this man before. And if he were a noble he would have been at those lessons, so who was he?

Midori moved them backwards, still staring into Hitoshi's eyes. His face held something akin to care, but Hitoshi blamed it on the light of the room. They'd barely met each other, having spoken a few words before throwing themselves on the floor and dancing with one another. There was no chance this man cared for him. Not now… and possibly not ever.

"I thought I told you to stop thinking, your highness." Midori smirked down at him.

Hitoshi blushed at being caught, even though Midori had no proof that he'd been thinking of anything.

"You think I couldn't tell you were thinking?" Midori chuckled, moving them forward and never losing time with the music. "It's like you were trying to burn a hole through my head."

Hitoshi opened his mouth to deny it but only a small yelp came out as Midori's hand lifted from his waist and travelled a little further down.

"Just relax." Midori smiled, keeping his hand significantly lower than Hitoshi's waist.

And Hitoshi, to no one's surprise, did not relax. If anything, he only tensed further, making it more difficult to dance.

Midori just rolled his eyes, acting as if this was some sort of joke that Hitoshi wasn't in on. He moved closer — something Hitoshi didn't think he could do at this point — until they were squished together in the tightest embrace he'd ever felt. Seriously, even Nemuri didn't embrace him this intimately. He was suddenly reminded of Midori's hands — and where they were — when one of them squeezed his ass as the man moved in closer.

"Relax Toshi" Midori's breath ghosted over his ear and bellowed down his neck and under the collar of his shirt.

But that was all it took for Hitoshi to melt, forgetting to even question why Midori had called him Toshi and leaning on the other man as they continued to dance. How Midori kept the two of them upright was a miracle, and Hitoshi wondered just how strong the other man was. How much muscle was hiding behind his suit.

Hitoshi's mind had gone fuzzy around the edges, for a reason he couldn't seem to understand. His body had almost failed him completely, but his brain was still functioning. He thought back to Midori and what he must be hiding under his suit, if he was pale or tanned, if his biceps were actually that big-

Hitoshi blushed harder, practically strawberry red now.

His brain was mostly functioning, it seemed, but it wasn't completely right.

It was almost like someone had drugged him, even though Hitoshi knew that not to be true. Then again, he always had to be hypervigilant at these public events, and falling victim to poison matched with the symptoms he had.

He was hot and sweaty, his mind kept straying to strange topics he would never think of, especially in public. Everything was too warm and the room started spinning, fine details becoming blurs as he was moved around the dance floor.

Hitoshi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down and stay alert.

He hadn't been drugged. No one would've gotten the chance to drug or poison him today. He'd prepared his own breakfast and lunch — much to the chagrin of the kitchen staff — and they hadn't served dinner yet.

He was fine. He wasn't drugged, he wasn't in danger, he's just… feeling hot and unwell for some reason. But that's fine, not normal, but fine.

Yeah, he was okay-

Something hard dug into his thigh as Midori spun them round again, snapping Shinsou back to reality with startling clarity.

Midori had a knife.

Hitoshi could practically feel the cool metal through the layers of fabric between them.

The man was basically holding him hostage in front of the entire room, in front of his fathers and none of them knew. Hitoshi's attempts at calming himself were thrown out the window as he realised that fuck, he really was in danger.

He tried to move away from the man, to get out of his hold, but Midori just clutched him tighter and continued to dance.

Hitoshi began struggling then, though Midori put an end to that quickly, pulling closer again, closing the gap Hitosh had managed to make between them.

"I see you found my dagger then." Midori smiled, putting on an act for the crowd of people still watching them dance.

"Let go of me right now or so help me Gods I will have your head on a spike." Hitoshi hissed.

Midori brought one of his hands up to cup the back of his head. The touch was soft and tender, almost loving, and it made Hitoshi sick.

"I only brought it to protect myself."

Hitoshi went to scoff but found that he… couldn't? He tried again, and the sound came out but it sounded weak, like he didn't believe what Midori said was wrong.

And the way Midori said it, with so much raw honesty in his voice, the way his eyes shone and made him younger and more innocent. Hitoshi couldn't find it in him not to believe the man.

Regardless of how innocent he seemed though, there was still a very real threat in this man's pocket that could end Hitoshi's life at any moment.

"You expect me to believe that?" Hitoshi questioned him, though it sounded weak even to his own ears.

Midori just looked down at him, still moving them about the floor — how was he doing that? It took Hitoshi an entire year of his life just to learn how to travel correctly in the ballroom and here Midori was, dancing as though he was born into high nobility — his grin shrinking into a small, sincere smile.

"Your highness, it's my last intention to hurt you. Tonight, or any day that follows."

Hitoshi's paranoid mind then brought up thoughts of "What is he's after father? Is that why he's dancing with me? So he can get close enough to kill the king?". Hitoshi was well aware of how some people weren't happy with his fathers ascension to the throne, Todoroki Enji being the most vocal about his views. But the point is, he knew there were people that were angered by it, and he knew that they weren't beyond assassination, though this was the first time they'd ever gotten close to him.

Unless… Shit, what if they were after Eri? She wasn't capable of protecting herself, not yet. Sure Nemuri was with her tonight, but Hitoshi feared that wouldn't be enough in the threat these people posed. If they laid a single hand on her head he would–

"Hey," Midori slid the hand on his head to his chin, grabbing it between his fingers and thumb and tilting it upwards lightly until Hitoshi was looking at Midori again. "I'm not here to hurt anyone. I just… I made a promise to someone very special to me a long time ago, and I don't intend on letting them down."

Hitoshi was still tense as he spun, Midori holding him flush to every part of his body with arms so strong Hitoshi was sure the other man could snap him in half if the need arose. Not that he would need to, seeing as he had a knife.

"Now," Midori moved them again, pulling Hitoshi along with him to dance every further. Would this music ever end? "You're going to keep dancing with me, and pretend that everything's fine. Okay?"

Hitoshi bit his tongue to hold the many vicious responses he could have spat at the man. Were he not in such a compromising position, he would have done any number of things that his family would deem "improper", but the man before him — despite his empty reassurances — was armed. And one didn't simply waltz into the castle with a knife on their person without at least trying to harm someone.

Hitoshi's heart stopped again.

What if Midori had already gotten his target? What if someone was lying face down in a puddle of their own blood because Hitoshi hadn't found them. Because he'd been dancing with their killer.

Hitoshi looked up, trying not to catch the other man's eye but he was unsuccessful and soon couldn't stop himself from looking into the oceans of forest green. The oceans that belonged to the man in front of him, whose brow was raised almost questioningly. Hitoshi just stared back, confused at what the other man meant but unwilling to communicate any further with him.

"I asked you a question, your highness," Midori twirled him around, harsher than he had before, his movements feeling sloppy and faster than they were before. They were still controlled and near-perfect, but they were ever so slightly off. "The least you could do is answer me."

Hitoshi barely withheld a scoff at the other man's words, but another turn which left him leaning more heavily on Midori than before had him remembering why he was in this position in the first place.

He cleared his throat slightly, looking away from the man before letting out a small "yes" in reply. Better to keep Midori calm and placid, that way he won't react rashly. Hitoshi might have a chance at escape if he plays along.

"Thank you, your highness." The honesty of Midori's voice filled Hitoshi's ears and suddenly he began to question if this man truly was just here to dance and keep whatever promise he had to that friend of his. Surely a killer couldn't sound so honest, could they?

He kept his mouth shut as Midori moved them again. Hitoshi honestly couldn't think of where they'd gone to in the ballroom now, too focused on keeping as far away from the knife as he could. Not that it put much distance between them, not at all. He was still crushed against Midori's front and the man's hands, to Hitoshi's dawning horror, were still on his ass.

A deep breath made its way through his body, miraculously saving him from falling over from embarrassment and anger at the audacity of this criminal. He pushed his mind away from the thought, though he could still feel Midori's hands resting there, heavy against his body. Instead, he thought of breathing, then focusing on the movement of his feet.

He followed Midori now, trying to copy his moves as he did them, only succeeding in about half of the steps before one of Midori's hands turned his head again. This time, his face was one of amusement, seemingly at Hitoshi's attempts at taking a more active role in their dance.

"I understand why you don't trust me, your highness, but surely you can let me lead, can't you?"

Midori's smile was bright, a little lop-sided and childish in comparison to the perfect, practised smiles Hitoshi saw every day on the people around him. It was almost more honest than any he'd ever seen.

Almost.

The memory of Izuku's smile sat bitterly in his mind when he compared it to Midori's. The fact that he'd even tried to compare the two, one from the love of his life and the other from some randomer who was practically holding him hostage in front of the entire kingdom… it was vile.

As if sensing his discomfort, Midori let his smile drop, replacing it with a thoughtful frown.

They continued to dance in silence, Hitoshi having given up on trying to actively participate and simply letting Midori lead him round the room.

So long as Midori was happy, Hitoshi wouldn't get stabbed. And one of the ways to make him happy was to let him lead apparently.

He glanced back up at Midori, only to find the man staring down at him, eyes squinted in what he could only call confusion.

Hitoshi tried to look away again, but his body seemingly didn't hear the order his brain sent to it, as he continued to stare into the others eyes. The longer he stared, the more he found he could see. Other emotions he hadn't found earlier lay in the other man's eyes now. Regret and a chronic sort of sadness were swimming in his eyes, so vivid that Hitoshi almost stopped dancing from the shock of seeing them.

Midori continued to move him though, spun them round the floor together as if nothing were amiss. It was beyond impressive.

Hitoshi didn't notice how close they had strayed from the centre of the room, now spinning and turning towards the entrance at the back of the room. The great big doors of gold and dark pine from the forests that surrounded their kingdom that had stayed a constant on the edge if his vision for the entire night, were now only metres away.

Midori spun him again, though this time he wasn't tossed back into the waltz when he had finished. No, Midori grabbed his back and leaned downward until Hitoshi was at such a steep angle to the floor that gravity should have taken its toll by now. But Midori's left hand kept him supported from behind — thankfully, it had moved off of his ass so his back could be held and Hitoshi had never been more glad about anything in his life — while the other came up and caressed his cheek.

Hitoshi fought the urge to shiver as Midori traced a feather-light path across his face until his palm was flush against his cheek. Despite what Hitoshi told himself not to do, he almost impulsively leaned into the hand. It was warm and soft, but somehow still covered in calluses.

Calluses which meant this man was a fighter. That he knew his way round a weapon. This was bad, very bad. Hitoshi needed to find a way out of this before Midori pulled out his knife. If he could get Midori back towards his father then maybe–

Hitoshi's racing mind was interrupted as Midori yanked him back up from where he'd dipped him, holding him tight against his body and running away.

He tried to scream, to call for help from someone but Midori covered his mouth with his hands, almost muzzling him as his large hand slotted over Hitoshi's lips, preventing any sound from coming out.

Hitoshi kicked against him, trying to do some significant damage but getting nowhere because of how close Midori was holding him.

He twisted in Midori's grip to look back into the ballroom as he was dragged out through the doors that towered above him. The chandelier was gone from the ceiling.

Instead of where it should have been, it was on the floor, crystals and gems splayed out along the floor as the golden supports sat, twisted and warped, on the hard wooden floor.

From what Hitoshi could see as Midori dragged him away, no one had gotten injured. There was no blood, no screams of terror. Just a calamity of noises in shock of what occurred.

But realisation dawned on Hitoshi. Midori caused that. Somehow, some way, the other man had planned that so he could take Hitoshi away without people asking questions.

Fuck.

This was it.

He was going to die.

At least it wasn't Eri

Shit, Eri. How would she react to all of this? She'd only just found her family, starting to be comfortable around them, enough so that she could ask for something and not flinch when someone said no.

And Hizashi? Hizashi — for all that Hitoshi pretended to hate him for the sheer volume at which he spoke — was a loving and caring father. He could barely do any wrong, always knowing when to leave Hitoshi to his own devices and when to interrupt and get him to interact with them.

And Shouta… Hitoshi couldn't hate him. He was his father, and despite how often they bickered and fought — too similar in personality and taste to ever truly see eye to eye and agree with one another — Hitoshi still loved him.

He loved all of them.

To think that he was being led to his death now, that in a matter of moments he'd be nothing more than a memory for which the public mourns once a year.

How could he have let this happen?

A particularly harsh tug on his sleeve yanks Hitoshi out of his thoughts and back into reality.

Midori was still running, dragging Hitoshi along with him as he ran. Hitoshi looked around, trying to find out where Midori had gone to, what his plan was.

He tried to escape the grip on his wrist, but it was as if Midori had made a handcuff out of his hands. It was too tight for him to do anything but hope he didn't get bruised by the end of this. If there was an end where he didn't die, that is.

They passed a large brown door on their way, Hitoshi still struggling to get free of Midori's grip, heart practically pounding in his throat as he was dragged along — why the fuck was Midori so strong anyways? Hitoshi might not have been built like Midori seemingly was, but he was no slouch. It just made him more terrified of what was to come. Of how this man could snap him in half like a toothpick at any moment and he would be powerless to stop it — but he knew that door. He knew it well. So well, in fact, that he could tell exactly where they were in the castle.

Hitoshi scolded himself for being so careless as to get caught up in his mind that he didn't notice how they'd run up 7 flights of stairs.

The good news, however, was that Eri was in the East Wing of the castle, and this was the West Wing. So it was fine. Midori didn't know about Eri — or if he did, he wasn't here for her — and both his parents were still downstairs in the ballroom.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he realised everyone was safe.

Everyone but him.

He didn't have time to worry about that though, because before Hitoshi could properly realise what Midori had done, he was pulled out of the door and onto the roof.

The wind practically cut through his clothes leaving him shivering for a moment. He turned around and saw Midori in front of him, also shivering as the wind hit at his skin and whipped at his hair.

He gave a small tug on Midori's hand, the grip of which had loosened considerably. Hitoshi grinned then, realising he could finally escape if he timed it right.

Despite the resistance of the wind, he brought his right hand up until it hovered just to the side of his head and then, as quick as lightning in a storm, he brought his fist down on the man's face.

Hitoshi wasn't privy to the sound his fist made when it collided with Midori's cheek, the wind howling in his ears and his heart pounding in his chest. But be got to watch as the other man went flying to the ground and landed in a little puddle of bonelessness.

His fist hurt like a bitch though, knuckles red and throbbing, a small cut running along his finger from where it caught the edge of the man's mask. Hitoshi wished he'd knocked the man unconscious, but judging by the movement coming from the floor, he wasn't so lucky.

His body quickly moved back towards the door, ready to open it and lock Midori on the roof until the guards could come and dispose of him, but something stopped him.

Hitoshi couldn't even begin to explain what it was. Maybe it was the fact that Midori, a person who had tried to harm him and his family, was sitting at his feet, vulnerable and afraid. Maybe it was because Hitoshi's brain wanted some sick form of revenge for what he'd almost achieved.

He stood above Midori's figure, debating with himself for another moment before drawing back his leg and kicking the man.

Only for his foot to be stopped mid-air.

Midori held his boot, trapping his foot inside one of his large hands. He was staring up at Hitoshi, hurt written across his face and etched deep into his eyes.

Hitoshi tried to tug his foot back, mind racing because shit, he's screwed now,any of this!" Hitoshi threw out his hand, as if pointing at the castle and the sprawling gardens that lay below it.

"I don't want to be king. I don't want to rule. I just wanted him but he's gone."

Water rode down his face and plastered his hair to his forehead. When it had started raining, Hitoshi didn't know, but he couldn't care at the moment, too caught up in his emotions. He didn't notice how Midori grew closer to him.

"I'm– I'm only doing this for him." His voice was barely a whisper now, carried away like a leaf on the strong wind that cut at his face.

"I thought I could keep him alive by–" He broke into a sob halfway through the sentence, holding himself, almost cradling his body in his arms. "I love him. I never stopped loving him. But I waited too long to say it, and now I'll never get the chance to love him again."

Hitoshi sat on the roof, trembling, though from the cold or the sobs that wracked his frame he wasn't quite sure.

He was so out of it that he almost didn't feel the warm arms that tried to embrace him.

Almost.

He whipped around, tears falling down his face like cascades on a cliffside, and threw a punch, putting as much force behind it as he could.

Midori went skidding across the roof, landing in a heap just a few metres away. Something clattered to the floor, two things. One making a metallic echo, the other, a soft thud as they landed.

Hitoshi could barely see his body from this distance, the rain blurring his vision so heavily. But he reached out and found what he was looking for, curling his hands around the hilt as he brought it back to his body.

"How dare you." He said, his voice dripping like venom. "How dare you try to comfort me." Hitoshi got up again, slowly walking over to where Midori was crouched, beginning to get up. The man's hands were around his face, though Hitoshi didn't care to find out what he was doing. "You can't bring him back."

Midori seemed to flinch at those words, though Hitoshi ignored it. He could barely recognise the sound of his own voice right now, couldn't even begin to comprehend what he was saying.

He knew he was blaming Midori for everything, for his coronation, for Izuku's disappearance. But he couldn't bring himself to stop. It felt so good to finally have someone to blame for all of this, someone to hold accountable so he could actually do something about it instead of being so fucking sad about it all the time.

"No one can." Midori was standing now, his back to Hitoshi. That was a mistake.

He raised the knife, intricate gold pieces becoming dull in the lowlight of night. Midori could bleed out before the guards got here for all Hitoshi cared, but he would get what was coming to him. What he deserved.

It only took Hitoshi a moment to decide before he brought the knife down, watching with morbid fascination and a sick sense of glee as it cut through the air.



















Midori gripped the blade between his fingers, having turned just as the knife began it's fatal descent, catching it before it could do any damage.

His mask had fallen off at some point during their scuffle, allowing Hitoshi to see the man properly for the first time.

He gasped, dropping the knife as though it burned him, letting it fall to the ground with a clang that echoed across the roof as the wind seemingly disappeared.

He completely stopped, simply standing and staring at Midori's face. The dusting of freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose which caught Hitoshi's eye more than the stars in the sky could ever hope to, despite their likeness to the constellations up above.

The man stared back at him, a sad smile on his lips. It almost looked like regret, or remorse.

"Toshi–"

Hitoshi threw himself at the man, Izuku easily catching him. They embraced, Izuku holding him closer than any time he had that night cradling Hitoshi's head with his hand.

Hitoshi just sobbed into Izuku's chest, scrunching his suit jacket beneath his fingers and letting out a stream of "I'm sorry's" and "forgive me's".

Izuku tilted Hitoshi's head up again, as he had done when they were dancing, until he was looking back up at Izuku's face.

So many things were happening in his brain.

How he didn't notice it was Izuku was a prominent thought in his mind — especially from the green curls that sprouted from his head like a bush from fertile soil — though it quickly fell to the wayside.

The guilt of trying to harm Izuku– to harm someone he didn't know, because they were armed, was fighting heavily for the top spot in Hitoshi's mind.

And when he thought about it, truly let his mind go over everything that had happened that night… Izuku had made no move to hurt people. Yes, he was armed but he'd done nothing to hurt anyone. It was Hitosh that had assumed he was here to bring someone harm. Hitoshi who had lashed out, had acted in violence and tried to–

He'd tried to kill someone.

All of a sudden, Hitoshi felt dirty, as though he had washed in years. His clothes felt too rough against his skin and everything felt too tight. But he deserved it for what he'd almost done. What he'd wanted to do.

A fresh round of sobs wracked his frame as he stared into Izuku's eyes, so familiar that he would have kicked himself for not recognising the other man sooner.

Izuku's hands cupped his face, wiping away his tears. He smiled down at him again, only making the leak turn into a flood.

"Toshi." Izuku's voice was soft and laced with care. "I'm sorry about this, the theatrics of it all."

Izuku's own eyes began to water as he spoke, Hitoshi hanging onto every word as he stared up at him.

He was so handsome. Hitoshi loved Izuku, he always had, and that love had nothing to do with physical attraction, but the skies had cleared slightly, the rain still falling heavily despite the sparse cloud cover which allowed the moon to shine down upon them, letting Hitoshi to properly see Izuku for the first time in years.

His eyes lit up silver and green, as pale moonlight shone down on his face and pronounced his jawline, his cheekbones. Hitoshi realised then, not for the first time, that the person before him was a man, not the boy Hitoshi used to know any more.

But they were still the same person, Hitoshi could tell that much.

"Why are you here?" He asked, his voice slightly hoarse from his tears. "How are you here?"

Izuku smiled then, happier than Hitoshi had seen him all night. Nothing like the mischievous grins he had sported while they danced.

"Well," He leaned in closer to Hitoshi until their foreheads were almost touching. "I made a promise, didn't I?"

Hitoshi barely resisted rolling his eyes at Izuku's words, a small smile coming to his lips regardless, before he remembered the past seven years of his life he had to spend without Izuku.

"I thought–" Hitoshi had to stop for a moment, collecting himself before he continued, "I thought you were dead."

Izuku's smile dropped and he pulled his head back until he could look at Hitoshi properly.

"I'm sorry Toshi. I'm so sorry." The tears in Izuku's eyes began to fall, flowing down his face and over the constellations that adorned his cheeks.

"I never wanted it to be like this. But I didn't have any other choice." He smiled, though it wasn't one of joy or happiness. It was sharp and aimed at himself, as though he blamed himself for what happened. "If we wanted to be together. And– And we did, didn't we? Don't we?"

Hitoshi stared at Izuku, before remembering that he hadn't been there when the news that Prince Izuku had disappeared was announced. He didn't see how distraught Hitoshi was, how he wouldn't talk to anyone for days, weeks even. He didn't know that Hitoshi loved him, that he never stopped loving him.

"Of course I do." Hitoshi breathed out, too overcome with emotion to say it any louder, "I love you. I always have."

Izuku smiled at that, tears falling freely down his face until he looked more like a waterfall than a human.

"I love you too Toshi. That's why I had to leave." Hitoshi could feel his brow scrunch up in confusion. "If we wanted to be together, to– to get married! Or just be with each other… I couldn't have stayed. Our difference in status has always stopped us from being together."

Hitoshi squinted at Izuku, wondering where the other man was going with this.

"So… so I ran away! I– I ran as far as I could get from the castle and I made myself a house and… I made a home for us. We can finally be together without anyone's approval or– or their permission. We don't have to worry about status or lineage because it's just us. We can be happy."

Hitoshi looked at Izuku, eyes wide in awe and partial confusion.

"I don't– what?" He looked up at Izuku, the questions he wanted to ask written all over his face. "You're not… you're not staying?"

"Toshi." The other man moved closer to him despite how close they were already swiping a thumb over his cheek and under the mask that still sat on his face. "I can't stay. If they found out that I was still alive… they'd be heartbroken. I can't do that to them."

"But you can do it to me?" Hitoshi cried , staring up at the other's face and wondering why he always had to be punished. Why he always received the worst end of the deal.

"Of course not Toshi." Izuku gripped his arms, almost caging him in were it not for how tenderly he held the smaller man. "I love you, and it hurts so much to see how much you missed me, how awful it must have been for you to stay without me for so long. But I'm here now — and I understand that is no apology, that it's nowhere near what you deserve, but it's all I can give you right this second — and we can be happy, just the two of us. We don't need anyone else, we never have."

Hitoshi clutched Izuku's jacket in his hands, as though he were afraid the other might disappear at any second. And with the way he was talking, Hitoshi's concern was valid.

"But I can't… I can't just leave. Izuku, they're my family. I love them!"

Izuku's eyes filled with tears once again. How the other man kept crying, Hitoshi didn't understand but he wasn't focusing on that right now. At least he was trying not to.

"I loved my mother! And I loved my father!" Izuku matched Hitoshi's volume, still holding him close so the words rang in his ears. "But I did this for us, so we could be together free of judgement."

"You're the only person I've ever loved like this Hitoshi." Izuku was holding him tighter now, but somehow softer than before. Hitoshi understood, having gone through the same thing not even moments ago. "I love you more than them, Toshi. I choose you."

Hitoshi thought he had no more tears to cry.

He was wrong.

"But I– I can't choose Izuku! This is all so sudden, how can you expect me to choose between my family and you? How!"

Hitoshi was sobbing again, violent ugly noises that flew out of his throat without his permission.

"I can't choose! This is too sudden. At least you had time to think about it before you left!"

Hitsohi almost recoiled at the hurt he saw in Izuku's eyes, but it was soon replaced with a familiar warmth he hadn't seen in a very long time. Too long.

"I didn't have much time either." Izuku chuckled, and Htioshi had to wonder where he got the confidence to be humorous in this situation. Histoshi didn't find it particularly funny.

"The night I left… It was when you came into my room that I knew." Izuku's eyes were foggy and a little bit too distant to be truly here, but Hitoshi could tell that Izuku was trying to convey just how much this meant to him. To get Hitoshi to understand what caused him to choose this life. "I couldn't stay."

"Because if I did, then I'd have to spend every minute of every day watching the man I loved fall into love with someone else. I would have to watch you thrive as I was forced into a loveless marriage, with a spouse whom I would never care for."

"And all because of some stupid rule about royalty and who they can marry." His eyes grew darker then, the word practically ripping themselves out of his throat

"And no offence to Monoma, but as helpful as he was tonight, I could never fall in love with him."

"What?" Hitoshi gasped, barely able to get the words out quick enough.

Izuku stopped, eyes clearing as he looked down at him before smirking, becoming Midori from earlier on. Unless Midori was simply a part of Izuku. A part Hitoshi had never seen because the other man ran away so they could be together.

"Well, someone had to make a distraction didn't they?" Hitoshi gaped at the man, mind racing as he stood with Izuku. Eventually his mind landed on his conversation with Monoma, how the other man had said goodbye.

He knew this was going to happen.

That little rat.

He opened his mouth to protest and question Izuku but the other man's look of glee cut him off.

He had always been beautiful, but here in the Palace light of the moon? He was ethereal.

He was truly a god amongst men. Hitoshi thought so anyways, blasphemy be damned.

The pale light cast shadows in all the right places, sharpening his jaw and accentuating his cheekbones to be sharp as diamonds.

His eyes were most enticing though, his wide smile coming in as a close second. They were large and practically glowed in the moonlight. They were warm despite the cold shadows that found their way onto his face.

It made Hitoshi feel warmer than he ever had before.

"–though I have to say, I quite like that chandelier. It's a shame he had to go and break it." Hitoshi was brought back to reality by Izuku's musings about Neito.

"You didn't know what was going to happen?" Hitoshi questioned incredulously.

"Nope!" Izuku replied, as if it wasn't extremely dangerous and could have ended terribly if they weren't careful.

"What if you didn't move out of the way? I could have died!" Hitoshi counted at the man, terrified at the prospect of how Neito's efforts to help could have torn him away form Izuku for the second time even though he'd not yet known it was the other man.

Izuku smiled at Hitoshi, leaning in closer and whispering "I'd never let anyone bring you harm."

It sounded too good to be true, and Hitoshi was more than willing to melt into Izuku's embrace and never let go.

But images of Eri and his fathers burned into the back of his mind, their teary faces after they realised that he too had disappeared either a trace.

"I can't Izuku, I can't do that to my family." He pushed away from the other man, trying to protect himself despite how much he wanted to stay in the other's embrace.

"You might have been able to, but I can't. They'd be heartbroken."

Izuku was quiet for a bit. Almost considering something before he took a step towards Hitoshi, quickly reaching the end of the roof before a loud bang sounded through the air.

Hitoshi couldn't hide the flinch that went through his system at the noise, praying to any being out there that it wasn't who he thought it was.

"Shit." Izuku's voice came from behind him, loud despite how he tried to whisper it to himself. It shocked Hitoshi a little, to hear Izuku curse. It simply highlighted the fact that this was not the boy he once knew, but someone newer.

But that didn't mean he loved him any less. The more he learned about this new Izuku, the more he found that he liked. Maybe the time away from all of this royal bullshit had done Izuku some good.

If only it were so easy as to cut ties with his family.

He might be able to with Aizawa, maybe Yamada if he pushed it. But Eri? Eri would be heartbroken. Despite the minimal time they spent together, she had developed a bond with him, something she only shared with Nemuri, and his fathers.

This would simply crush her. It would force her to believe that she was a curse again, some sort of bad omen. That she only brought suffering and despair wherever she went.

He couldn't do that. Not to her or his fathers.

The kingdom would be fine without him. Of course it would. But his family? They'd be devastated.

A tug at his arm had Hitoshi entering back into the present again, escaping the confines of his mind, only to leave one shitty situation and enter another.

"C'mon Toshi, we gotta go." Izuku was in front of him now, crouched down and staring into his eyes, though his gaze kept drifting to behind him. He was nervous. That much was obvious in the way he chewed at his lip and bounced his leg.

"Zuku–"

"Toshi, we don't have time." Izuku hauled the smaller man onto his shoulder and began to run across the roof with Hitoshi's hips resting on his shoulder.

In any other situation, Hitoshi would be upset at the other man basically telling him to shut his trap, but his face had gone bright red from the unplanned carrying and his brain was too occupied with thoughts of "He picked me up like I weighed nothing." To function properly.

Hitoshi amended to watch the ground as they– as Izuku ran, and tried to figure out what was happening.

There were guards.

He knew that much from the heavy and familiar footfalls that echoed across the roof and the grunts of men, young and old, who had served the king their entire lives. Hitoshi even knew a few of them by name.

He wondered, idly, if Iida was on the roof.

Not that it mattered much.

He just didn't have much else to think about

He very much did, but if he thought about how close hew was to Izuku's crotch he might just combust. Or how his biceps bulged around his thighs as he carried him across the roof

Another shout came from somehwere behind them, bringing Hitoshi back out of his gay panic in time to witness a rather impressive show of skill in action.

A guard had somehow made her way across the roof, gravity seemingly not applying to her as she jumped and flipped her way over to the section of the roof they stood on. She pulled out a sword then, not even out of breath after all of what she'd done.

Hitoshi reminded himself to ask for her name if he ever got the chance.

He wanted her as his personal guard. Or maybe one of a personal team, seeing as how it was so easy to lure him away and almost kidnap him tonight.

Izuku seemingly retaliated though, as one second the Girl's sword was descending upon Izuku's shoulder, Hitoshi too slow to tell him to react, and the next her weapon was flying off the side of the roof, falling for a good while before making an awful clatter on the pavement of the gardens below.

He then held a knife to Hitoshi's throat, hiding his mouth behind the other's hair and whispering words of "I'm sorry" and "I won't hurt you but we need to escape before she notices."

"I wouldn't if I were you, unless you want your precious Crown Prince to choke on his own blood.

The guard, seemingly scared that Izuku was serious, stepped back and raised her hands placatingly.

Hitoshi found his own face contorting in fear at the image of someone holding a knife to his neck, telling himself that he'd never have to go through that, because Izuku could keep him safe when Hitoshi couldn't do it himself.

Izuku smiled against the nape of Hitoshi's neck and took a deep breath, making the shorter man shiver as the cold said rushed over his kins before it was replaced with hot air that left goosebumps rippling all over his skin.

Were Izuku not supporting him, he's sure his knees would've given out.

"There you go. Now if you'll excuse us, we have somewhere to be." Izuku said, Hitoshi able to pick out the genuine praise in his voice, but he barely had time to think about it as suddenly, something whistled past him, loud and clear because the wind had stopped.

Hitoshi recognised the sound though.

It was a knife, a throwing knife to be precise.

The guards used swords and arrows to rain hell upon their opponents.

There was only one person that had ever used throwing knives other than Hitoshi.

"Unhand my son unless you want the next to go through your head."

Hitoshi felt how Izuku's hands stiffened against his body, could practically feel the other man's brain trying to come up with a plan, some kind of other option that could get the two of them out of here safely.

It was no use though, as another knife went flying through the air, shaving off some of Izuku's hair which floated down onto Hitoshi's shoulder.

Hitoshi winced, simply hoping the other man wouldn't move so he might be alright, only getting a haircut instead of a head wound.

"I'll give you 5 seconds." Shouta's voice — the King's voice — carries across the empty rooftops. Rain had plastered his hair to his skin much like his son and the person who held him captive.

Hitoshi could feel Izuku trembling against his back, barely able to imagine what he was going through at the moment, only knowing that he had to fix this. Somehow.

He chanced a glance at his father, finding the man looking more haggard than ever, his eyebags having grown and darkened in colour so much Hitoshi might mistake them for two holes in his fathers face, void of anything at all, even light.

It pained Hitoshi to see him like this, so exhausted. He still remembered the few months after his father was crowned the new King.

Shouta would work himself to the bone every night, staying up later and later, studying the laws of the kingdom he had been left to rule. As the past King's advisor, he knew quite a lot about the kingdom and how it was run. But knowing and doing were two completely different things, and Shouta's knowledge was vague in the best of subjects when it came to ruling, so he dedicated himself to studying. He wanted to lead this country out of the slump they'd gotten themselves into, to bring them a brighter future in hopes of making up for the dark past they were still living in.

And he did exactly that, but it was not without sacrifice.

Hitoshi barely saw his father for the first 2 years of his reign, always locking himself into his study with books piled higher around him.

But when he did see him…

He looked bad, almost as bad as he did now.

Almost.

And that brought a realisation to the forefront of Hitoshi's mind.

Whenever he thought of how this could impact his family, he thought of Eri. He thought of how terrified she would be if she learnt that her brother had been stolen from the castle — because no one else knew it was Izuku. They didn't care. All they saw was an assassin. Or he thought about Hizashi, who would no doubt be devastated, but still have to get up in the morning to give the daily announcements. Who would have to publicly announce that he had disappeared.

But he never thought of Shouta, never fully. Hitoshi assumed he would be saddened by his disappearance, but that he wouldn't be anywhere near as distraught as the rest of the family. He wouldn't bawl and sob until he could do so no longer.

But this? This shell of a man that stood before him, a fire in his eyes despite how tired and devastated he seemed to be? It was irrefutable proof that Shouta cared for him beyond the necessities of a father-son relationship.

It made Hitoshi's insides light up, in a different way to when Izuku had unmasked himself but still in a good way.

Once he met his father's eyes, he knew he was done for. The man's tired black eyes were wet with unshed tears.

He didn't even know his father could cry, and now here he was, about to be the reason because of it.

God he was such an asshole, wasn't he?

He twisted around, eyes practically begging his father not to attack while his back was turned. Whether or not that message was received, Hitoshi wasn't sure. He sincerely hoped that his father wouldn't try to attack Izuku, that he would trust in Hitoshi's ability to deescalate the situation.

Granted, turning with a knife pressed against his throat was proving rather difficult, so he elbowed Izuku in the stomach, allowing his grip to falter for just a moment long enough to allow Hitoshi to twist around and bring his lips up to Izuku's ear.

"I have a plan. Please. Don't. Panic." He whispers up to Izuku, before turning round again and staring his father down.

His father hadn't moved, which was good. Unexpected, but definitely good. Hitoshi couldn't tell about the guards, too many of them standing to attention in various different battle stances across the roof. None of them were moving.

It made Hitoshi happy to see that his father trusted him.

All of a sudden, Izuku dropped the knife, holding out his hand and allowing it to clatter to the ground far below them.

He watched as many of the guards grew confused swaying slightly in their positions.

Shouta and the girl from before, along with a small handful of others squinted at Izuku, falling deeper into their stances though they seemed to do nothing to the average observer.

Hitoshi held up his hand high in the air, the other came up and unlatched his mask from his face, letting it drop to the ground.

"Father, I'd like you to meet my fiancé. Yagi Izuku."

Hitsohi never expected this day to come.

Well he did, but only ever in his dreams.

The fact that this was happening at all was astounding, let alone the fact he was actually happy about it.

"You ready?" Hitoshi said.

He turned around to face his lover, taking in his attire as he spun.

The other man stood behind him, draped in white furs with golden accents and embroidery. A crown sat atop his head, the colour of the rising sun on a warm summer morning, encrusted with precious emeralds and amethysts from the earth below them.

"What, do I get a choice this time?" Izuku joked, circling his arms around Hitoshi's waist and moving closer until they stood chest to chest.

Hitoshi rolled his eyes, a small smile coming to his lips as he listened to Izuku talk.

"Don't say that like you didn't want this." He replied, meeting Izuku's gaze and doing his best not to melt under the other's gaze.

Izuku pretended to think for a moment, as if considering whether or not he truly did want to be here.

Hitoshi jabbed him in the stomach, revelling in the way Izuku almost doubled over, choking on air. He let his hands wander and poke at the other man's stomach until his hysterical laughter filled the room.

"You are such a little shit." Izuku said, still trying to catch his breath, staring up at Hitoshi.

"But you love me for it." Hitoshi smiled.

Izuku straightened, moving closer to him and embracing him once again.

"Yes I do." He said, lovingly, before stealing Hitoshi's crown from his head and dangling the silver thing high above where Hitoshi couldn't reach.

"How dare you," Hitoshi made another move for his stomach but Izuku dodged out of the way. "Is it bravery that has you stealing from me? Or is it stupidity?"

Izuku laughed as he dodged Hitoshi's
jabs, doing his best to ensure that neither of their clothes creased or ripped in their mock-fight.

They were a tangle of contracting colours, the black and silver of Hitoshi's furs and jewellery and the white and gold of Izuku's clothes and his crown.

Hitoshi launched himself at Izuku and began climbing his frame like a squirrel would a tree.

(He's not that small, Izuku is just a fucking giant. Plus they're almost the same height. Izuku's just a lot little bit taller!)

Someone cleared their throat.

Hitoshi froze, his legs wrapped around Izuku's hips and his hands desperately trying to reach his crown above him. Izuku also froze, if the tensing of his limbs was any indication.

"Happy as I am to see you two together, I'm sure this can wait until after the ceremony." Shouta drawled from where he stood in the open doorway.

Hitoshi blushed, extricating himself from Izuku's body — who was also blushing heavily — and standing on the ground beside him.

A giggle came from behind his father and when Hitoshi looked around, he could see Hizashi's blonde hair.

"Ah, young love." Hizashi exaggerated his entrance, slipping around Shouta as he made his way into the room and sent a not so subtle wink at Izuku. "We used to be like that, remember Shou?"

And now it was Hitoshi's turn to laugh, though he did his best to stifle it, because his father had gone bright red at the implications of that sentence. It was hilarious to see such a stoic person unravel so quickly.

"Come on, love. We can't make them late for their first dance. Not like we were." Hizashi led the other man out of the room, and Hitoshi couldn't hold back his laughter any more.

He hadn't thought it possible, but Shouta had somehow gone from tomato red to having molten lava run through his face. His blush was practically visible through the walls of the castle.

Hitoshi looked to his lover who was standing silently beside him, a fond smile on his face as he looked down at Hitoshi.

"What are you doing?" He asked, only half serious.

"Just admiring my beautiful husband." Izuku's words sent butterflies fluttering through Hitoshi's stomach in ways he had only begun to experience when he was around Izuku.

"I could get used to that." He hummed, taking Izuku's distraction to steal back his crown and walk quickly to the door. "I hope your still as good a dancer as you were 6 months ago,"

He looked back at Izuku, a mischievous grin on his face. "We wouldn't want you to embarrass me in front of everyone, now would we."

And with that Hitoshi disappeared around the corner, laughing loudly as his newly-wed husband chased him through the halls and out into the snowy gardens that surrounded the castle.

Friends and family stood around them as the orchestra began to play, but Izuku and Hitoshi only had eyes for one another.

The brass section began with a set of staccato beats that made Hitoshi's heart melt and soar at the same time.

Izuku smiled down at him, knowing full well what Hitoshi was thinking.

And they began to dance, holding one another close, surrounded by their loved ones, to the very waltz they danced that night so many months ago.

To most, it felt as though no time had passed since then, but Hitoshi knew that wasn't true. For he had spent every day since then with Izuku bound to his side, and he had loved every moment of it.

Hitoshi could recall, in great detail, exactly what they had done for every day that had passed since that amazing night.

They continued to waltz, almost outdoing themselves in the skill they showed on the night they met each other again.

And when it began to snow, they continued to dance, wrapped in their furs with an excuse to hold one another closer than socially acceptable for members of such high status.

And maybe this wasn't the life Izuku had imagined for them. It certainly wasn't the one Hitoshi had imagined for himself when Izuku had disappeared, not the one he thought he'd have to live after Izuku failed to show up after a year.

But he wouldn't exchange it, not for the world.

Because Izuku was his, and he was Izuku's.

And that's all he'd ever wanted.