Chapter Text
Nothing was more beautiful than the moon on a starless night, when those pesky balls of gas were out of the way long enough to let it shine on its own. This was a long kept secret of the universe—a secret Ochako was determined to keep, though curses disguised as blessings (given by cosmic occurrences disguised as strategically planned events) would rather her have no secrets at all. If the universe had its way with her, Ochako would reveal everything she’d ever known or thought she had known, and she would lose any sense of mystery about her.
Mitsuki Bakugo told her, on more than one occasion, that beautiful girls like her were often mysterious, and that it’d do her some good to keep some things to herself. Keep the boys (though there was only one boy and would forever only be that same boy) wondering, she laughed one day. She said it as she sewed her up in a dress so impossibly tight, she’d thought all her secrets would be exposed the moment she’d stepped out of her manor. But she was a professional—and the Duchess of the Kogeta Woods—so Ochako tried to follow her advice as well as she could.
And that is how Ochako ended up in a long, black, velvet gown that fit more like a sleeve than anything she’d ever worn on her arm. Judging by the stares she received when she entered the ball, it was gorgeous, though the gown's beauty was never really a question in Ochako’s mind. Anything made by the Duke and Duchess of Kogeta Woods was practically guaranteed to be amazing, but it seemed like they took extra care to make sure that this particular dress was something special. When Ochako thought about it a moment longer, it made sense. This dress would make its debut at their only son’s twenty-first birthday ball and everything simply must be perfect.
Ochako supposed that she was included in that everything—not that she minded.
Loud music stole her attention away from her thoughts and gave it to the top of a golden staircase, glittering lights precariously hanging above several instrumentalists. They lined up on the staircase one by one, playing their instruments loudly enough to be heard over all the chatter of the guests at the ball. Gradually, the guests began to crowd around the staircase, a sea of people beginning to overtake any and all space surrounding the base of the stair. Moving with the crowd, Ochako found herself swept up in their wave, landing on the right side of the staircase, far too close to a blaring trumpet than she preferred. She heaved an annoyed sigh and prayed that her eardrums would not be destroyed by tonight’s festivities; it would be incredibly difficult to listen to the plant’s whispers, after all.
Thankfully, the music didn’t last for long. Silence overtook the ballroom, leaving the air heavy and ripe, anticipation settling in. Ochako glanced around the room, finding the ball’s attendees whispering amongst themselves but not looking away from the double doors at the top of the staircase. Having been to these balls at least three times a year prepared her for what was to happen next, but she still kept her eyes focused on those golden doors, unable to deny their intrigue.
The instrumentalist on the highest stair cleared his throat, effectively driving the crowd into complete silence. It was starting—and though Ochako was used to the glamor that came with a Bakugo ball, excitement still made its way into her bones, setting her alight. “It is my duty and honor to be here today,” the man spoke, his voice loud and thundering throughout the floor, “and it gives me great joy to present Duke Masaru and Duchess Mitsuki Bakugo!”
Without a moment’s hesitation, the gilded door opened and the couple stepped out, the Duke holding up his wife’s hand, guiding her way. They were both draped in gold, Mitsuki’s dress and Masaru’s cape glittering and gleaming with every step they took. A warm feeling flooded Ochako’s core as she watched them descend the stairs, Masaru’s eyes never leaving Mitsuki. Glittering heels peaked out from underneath her gown and Ochako inwardly cringed; she knew from experience how hard it was to walk down those steps with a dangerously high pair of shoes on. Still, Mitsuki walked with the grace and poise of her rank and if she stumbled, Masaru was there to catch her.
Would he catch her if she started to slip down the stairs? Ochako mused, the warmth from her center starting to creep its way onto her face. She shook the thought away and directed her attention back on the married couple, applause erupting when they finally reached the bottom. Ochako smiled brightly and clapped her hands together, showing her support for the family.
Quickly, Mitsuki locked eyes with her and smiled brightly, brilliant white teeth and flaming red eyes blinding Ochako. With a light gesture, the duchess beckoned Ochako over, but the young woman stood right where she was planted, not wanting to cause a scene. Charmed, the older woman rolled her eyes lightly, her smile softening into one more natural—genuine—and Ochako felt her heart swell. Seeing the duchess smile so softly was a rare occurrence, saved for the happiest occasions. Though Ochako did not know why the duchess smiled at her so fondly, she was grateful that she was on the receiving end of such a rare gift.
“Thank you all for coming out tonight,” the Duke said, a smile on his face and his voice light. “I will admit; I am not too fond of throwing such big events in my own home—especially because my wife and I refuse to hire help cleaning up—” The crowd broke out in fits of laughter, and Ochako looked beside her, knowing that there would be plenty of dishes to tend to. And still, she found a man wandering through the party, handing out glasses to anyone who hadn’t one in their hands. This was going to be such a pain to clean—though, the family (if she could be considered a part of their family) did work best when they worked together. She smiled and nodded her head in thanks as the man made his way to her, offering her a glass.
“Snooping maids lead to stolen designs,” Mitsuki chirped, laughing. Masaru squeezed her hand lightly, an action not going unnoticed.
“—But we are so thankful that everyone could wish our son a blessed twenty-first year. We Bakugo’s raise our glasses to you all in thanks to your support.” And indeed they did raise their glasses, Mitsuki’s red eyes locked onto Ochako. She nodded her head at the younger woman and gestured for her to raise her glass, though Ochako held it close to her chest, bashfully. Ochako understood what she had been trying to say—that she’s a part of the family (though not officially, and at the rate they were headed, not for a very long time)—but Ochako simply could not bring herself to raise her glass, no matter how much she wanted to. It was in times like this where she was certain that the universe randomly chose to curse her, because by all intents and purposes she was part of their family. “Our dear Ochako also raises her glass to you in thanks,” Masaru added lightly, winking at the young girl. “And you, our wonderful friends and allies, can raise your glass to a prosperous and bright twenty-first year to our only son: Duke Katsuki Bakugo of the Kogeta Woods.” He concluded his speech with a brilliant smile before interlacing his arm holding his glass with his wife’s, locking together at their elbows. Ochako watched as they sipped from their glasses, looking at each other like nobody else was in the room. Absently, she raised her glass to her lips and drank, chilled alcohol warming her inside in a way she wasn’t quite used to. One day, would he look at her like that? She wanted him too; she wanted him to look at her and whisper to her and smile at her like he did when they were alone—no matter the occasion. It was a silly thought, but a thought that invaded her head nonetheless.
Without warning, the music started it up again, and Ochako swore that she would be deaf before the night was over. It caught her attention, which, she supposed, was it’s job—so she couldn’t really be annoyed that it happened. She lifted her head and looked at the top of the staircase, those gilded doors opening. Suddenly, all the air left her body and she was stuck, breathless and wide-eyed as he stepped through the doors, all dressed up and nowhere else to go.
The young Duke stood at the top of the stair, dressed in a black, double breasted velvet jacket and matching pants, gold embellishments laced strategically throughout the fabric. His piercing red eyes searched the crowd before settling on her. A small smirk played on his lips and he made his way down the staircase, much quicker than his parents. A moment later, he was in front of her, hand outstretched and silent, though he hadn’t needed to say anything at all.
“Happy birthday, Bakugo,” Ochako said, giving the royal a small curtsey before taking his hand. As if by gravity, they were pulled to the center of the room, the crowd around them seeming to thin out around them. Those delicate lights that hung so precariously above them seemed darker now, illuminating nothing but Bakugo and the tiny, golden decorations woven into his clothes. Gently, his arm wrapped around her waist and Ochako felt her breath catch in her chest (and judging by the wicked grin on his face, Katsuki felt it as well). His grin spread as he gently lifted his arm in tandem with hers, slowly fluttering together. Her heart felt like it could leap from its spot behind her ribs and break free from the bony cage—and judging by the sheer amount (or lack) of fabric in her dress, the cursed organ would land right on his own velvet jacket.
“You look positively terrified,” he said to her in a voice no louder than a whisper. “We’ve been dancing together since we were sixteen; what’s got you all scared now?” When his hand reached as high as she would allow, she twirled—catching a small glimpse of the ball’s attendees. She thought—believed—that the lights were dimmed, but they shone as bright as they ever did, and Ochako saw the thousands of eyes locked on them. When she faced him again, her hand trailed down and cupped his cheek and his arm found it’s way around her waist again, holding her as close as he could without being inappropriate.
“They’re all looking at you,” she whispered, and she couldn’t help the pink flush that dusted her face.
“Who?” he asked, bemused. His hand, large and calloused from years of training with both a needle and a sword, met with hers, gently pushing her away from him. Once separated, she gave one spin out, the bottom of her dress lifting ever so slightly, showing her own set of glittering, golden heels. She caught Duchess Mitsuki’s flaming red eye on her twirl back towards Katsuki, and she could’ve sworn she saw her wink at her. Breathing happily, Ochako let the small interaction go, focusing on Katsuki and Katsuki alone. The young Duke placed his arm at it’s spot on the small of her back and it lit a fire in her, growing hotter by the second. Under these lights, in the middle of the dancefloor, she was sure that she’d melt underneath his touch. She looked up at him, an uninvited smile toying on her delicate lips.
“The crowd,” she whispered to him. He gave a light chuckle and she twirled alone, Katsuki’s hand outstretched but a tad out of reach. Ochako inwardly sighed at the lack of touch, but she dared not say that aloud—knowing all too well what would happen if she let her thoughts out. Her curse would never have her tell a lie, or even suggest one, but she could keep the truth to herself, if she wanted. And tonight? Her truth was that she wanted to feel Katsuki’s hands on her, all the time, everywhere.
(She dared not say this outloud.)
“I didn’t notice there was a crowd,” he said, and it was genuine, though Ochako had no idea how. He outreached his arm and she clung to it with more enthusiasm than required, both of them swirling around the dancefloor, uninterested in anyone else.
“How could you miss them?” she asked, repeating the twirl and then clinging to his other arm. If she was not careful, she’d get lost in the music—in the dance—and she did not want to look like a dancing fool on the night of Katsuki’s birthday. (Nor would she have wanted to be found if she were to lose herself in him, tonight.) She let go of his arm and held on to his hand, moving as far away from him as she could while holding on. Quickly, he lifted their arms up and brought her close to him, their faces only inches apart.
“I thought you were the only other person in the room, until you pointed the extras out,” he whispered, his breath tickling her nose. Despite trying to appear as poised and graceful as possible, she smiled widely, unable to control the intense beating of her heart. Quickly, he guided her around the dance floor, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other holding her hand. She lifted her head slightly, and found herself staring into the depths of his ruby eyes, seeing blood moons on starless nights.
Maybe it was inappropriate, and maybe she’d lose the poise she’d try to build up all night—but she finally let go. She exhaled and allowed herself to close the gap between them, pressing herself against his body and allowing him to lead her wherever he desired. She could help but let out a giddy sigh when she felt both of hands grip her waist to lift her, swinging her around. She could feel how warm his hands were through the velvet, and that warmth spread through her, nearly setting her ablaze.
“You’re really beautiful, Cheeks,” he said as he lowered her into a dip, her body only inches away from the golden wood that once kept her feet steady.
“Your mother made a really stunning dress,” Ochako said shyly, face flushed and arms locked around the young Duke. “Your parents are truly the best tailors I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”
“The dress is nice,” Katsuki agreed, pulling Ochako back to her feet, “but it’s only beautiful because you’re the one wearing it.” His arms locked around her waist, pulling her close to him and sharing his warmth. This action, though small and commonplace for them, would surely cause whispers throughout the woods and Ochako knew better than to let it continue—but she couldn’t find it in herself to pull away. Was this foolish? It could very well be the final nail reputation’s coffin; the unwed help being so close to a royal would surely cause gossip. She could practically hear the rumors now.
But when she looked up, all she could see was the familiar flame that lingered in Katsuki’s eyes, surrounded by red warmth and she was rendered deaf. Rumors and gossip be damned, she was not letting him go. And so she didn’t, tightening her arms around his neck and feeling one hand slink from her waist and onto the back of her head, settling every inch of skin his fingers brushed against alight. He pulled her closer, her face only a breath’s length away, and though Ochako knew that a kiss would seal her fate as either a harlot, a skank, or a temptress, she leaned in.
“My my,” a boisterous, feminine voice cut in, interrupting the moment before destroying it completely, “you’d make a fantastic addition to my business, Ochako.” Brown eyes rolled over to find Lady Nemuri, a socialite known throughout the kingdom for her Midnight services. Ochako shuddered at the thought, slowly being pulled to her feet.
“You’re not implying that she’d be a successful prostitute, are you?” Bakugo said, his voice low but his tone threatening. He was offended on her behalf and this simply would not do. (Not that she wasn’t offended as well. She had a right to be offended and she wasn’t set to forfeit that right.) She mustn’t cause a scene tonight. Tonight was the night Katsuki stepped into his Dukedom and nothing less than perfection was on the itenary tonight.
So, Ochako did what she did best—smiled and laughed. “I think I’d much prefer my work at the Bakugo Manor,” she said sweetly, honestly— and she prayed that no malice slipped through her voice.
“As what? A scullery maid?” Nemuri said, pity dripping through her words. She wrapped an arm around the younger woman, pulling her away from the duke’s side. “I’m just saying, a young, beautiful, single woman could make more money than one could ever dream of if you just worked one night at the brothel. I’d seriously consider it if I were you.”
“You did more than consider it,” Bakugo interjected, lacing his arm through Ochako’s elbow. “And I doubt she’d stay unwed for long.” This caused Nemuri’s blue eyes to shine, sparkling with a feeling Ochako knew well—curiosity. This same curiosity was seen all throughout the kingdom when she’d venture outside of the Kogeta Woods with Bakugo at her side. This curiosity bred nosiness—the father of rumors. Rumors led to scandals and Ochako would rather tell a million lies than let tonight be ruined by an easily preventable scandal.
“There’s nothing concrete planned—and I am not a maid,” Ochako said, leaning into Bakugo’s hold, “and there’s been no talk of proposals—yet.” She gave an apologetic look to Bakugo, knowing full well that he hated any detail of his personal life being public knowledge. But tonight, he’s left her no choice. She had to be honest and she would not let a rumor emerge tonight. “But I did develop an affection for someone and it has been returned.”
“Someone?!” Nemuri all but screamed, clasping her hands together, “Is this someone beautiful? Wealthy? Charming?” The words rolled off her tongue so quickly, Ochako thought there was no way her tongue wouldn’t wrap around itself. There was no way she’d avoid spilling every detail of her life if she continued this conversation. Judging by the slight tug on her arm and his footsteps starting, Bakugo knew this as well.
“Yes, yes,” Ochako laughed, slowly moving away, “Very handsome and charming.” She turned around, heaving a sigh of relief. She looked up and found Bakugo looking at her, those crimson eyes locked on her with an intensity that she knew well (not that she’d ever comment on it.) “Your guests are chatterboxes, Duke Charming,” Ochako said teasingly, her voice barely rising against the deafening noise of what was undoubtedly gossip.
“They need something to fill their boring lives,” Bakugo whispered in her ear, trying to be on his best behavior, “I suppose I’d be the same way if you hadn't come in my life, Scullery Maid.”
“Asshole,” she said, playfully pushing him.
“That’s no way to talk to a member of high society, wench!” another feminine voice shrieked, and it took everything in Ochako’s power not to roll her eyes. She took her attention away from said member of high society (and resisted the urge to retch) to look at the woman who so delicately reminded her of her place. She was surprised to see it was the Countess she always failed to notice, Toru Hagakure. Maybe that’s why she was so…passionate about the way Ochako addressed the Duke? It’s not like she was ranked supremely high, and Ochako got the feeling if she spoke to her like that, she’d have her beheaded.
Well, she’d try .
“ Excuse me!” Bakugo all but roared, no intention of being excused. His eyebrows knitted together with stress and anger and Ochako knew this would not end well. (Good—that annoying wench deserved it.) She realized that this would be a perfect opportunity for controversy—and she wanted no parts. Quietly, she slipped out of sight, leaving the Duke to rage at the Countess.
And that is how Ochako found herself outside, her head in her hands as she looked from the balcony into the night sky. If there was anything more beautiful than the lonely moon then she hadn’t seen it, at least not while she was alone. The grass below her whispered to her faintly, jubilantly, singing praises and thanks as they moved in the soft breeze. Their tiny voices were lost in the wind, though she could make out what they said if she tried. The thing about grass was that it spoke whether or not anyone was listening and was not concerned if it was heard.
“You make my dresses look beautiful,” Mitsuki said, coming out on the balcony.
“You know,” Ochako said, turning around to face the Duchess. It was almost astounding, but from her face shape to her bright eyes to that ashy blonde hair, she looked just like her son. It’s like he stole her whole face at the moment of his birth. “Katsuki said the same thing. I think you two may just be related,” Ochako joked, a light smile playing on her lips.
“That gremlin? Couldn’t be my offspring,” Mitsuki snorted, her own vermillion eyes light with mirth. In moments like these, Ochako understood why the Grand Duke Masaru loved his wife so dearly; how could anyone look into those eyes and not fall in love? She knew she had fallen in love with them (and she would fall over and over again, as many times as he would allow). “Now you,” the duchess said, placing a gentle hand on Ochako’s bare shoulder, “you could be my daughter. You’re just as beautiful as the rest of my family, and you’ve got more manners than my child or any one of my nieces. I love you as if you were my own.”
Ochako let the playful smile drop from her face, replacing it with a more comfortable, genuine one. It was smaller, sure, but that didn’t make it any less special. “Thank you,” she breathed, “I really appreciate everything you and the Duke do for me. I feel as if there’s nothing I can do to repay your kindness, but please let me try.”
“Oh, darling,” Mitsuki said, scooting in closer to Ochako, her bare wrists brushing up against Ochako’s arm. “You toil in the garden day in and day out and you keep my son out of trouble. That’s more than I could ask of anyone.” The duchess pointed a finger towards the aforementioned garden, seeing (but not hearing) the hundreds of flowers below her. They danced in the night breeze, stems and roots hanging onto the soil so they wouldn’t be blown away. It was a (silly) fear the flowers had, but they were (silly) creatures so Ochako understood they maybe they just didn’t understand how secure they were.
“You hired me as a plantswoman,” Ochako laughed, “it is my job to keep your garden alive.”
“Keep us pretty! Yeah, yeah keep us pretty!” Ochako heard some brave, far off flower say, prompting them all to scream at once. If she had to guess which one it was, Ochako would say it was a poppy. Though not very vocal flowers, they tended to be the bravest and would speak if they felt that they wanted to be heard. Their tiny voices were often the loudest in the garden, though still soft enough where only Ochako would hear.
(Or maybe, she was the only one who knew to listen. Though, none of that mattered, she supposed.)
“And my offspring?” Mitsuki asked, her voice lighthearted.
“He’s a handful, there’s no denying it,” Ochako admitted, still smiling, “but he’s one of the finest men I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. I wish to know him my whole life.”
“I don’t doubt that he feels the same,” Mitsuki chirped, clapping a hand over Ochako’s shoulder. Ochako had known this to be true, and it didn’t take much introspection to discover that she knew it. Maybe she’d discovered it from the moment they met, or maybe she found out when stole a kiss after watching her work (much to her protest because seriously, he was distracting her and roses were uncooperative because they were jealous of his eyes). Either way, she knew that he wanted to be a permanent fixture in her life although he did not say it—and she was content to wait for him. After all, she had her entire life to wait for him (though she did not want to wait that long.)
“I don’t doubt it, either,” Ochako replied, dreamily.
“You know, when women wanted to get married in my day,” Mitsuki started, her voice growing louder, taking on traits her son would inherit, “sometimes they’d just say they were pregnant. They’d be married within the month. Of course, then they’d have to produce a child within the following months, but I don’t think that was necessarily a problem for them.” Ochako's eyes widened at the thought—a wedding planned in such haste would surely cause a scandal. Even amongst the lower-class, a spontaneous wedding was practically an invitation for gossip. Even outside of Ochako’s affliction, she didn’t think she could just say she was pregnant and have Katsuki give her his last name. The two had barely done anything more than steal greedy kisses and let wandering hands do what pleased—nothing that would constitute a pregnancy scare (if it could be called a scare.)
“I don’t mean to be rude,” Ochako prefaced, “but is that how you got the Duke to marry you?”
A heart laugh ripped through the duchess’s throat, and she quickly sipped her drink to hide it. “No, my dear,” she said finally, “Masaru, like most men of his status, didn’t see the need to change our relationship—he was comfortable the way we were. I, however, was a little too eager to move on from making my own dresses out of linen to making ball gowns from silk and satin—and I needed a bigger workspace to do so. But I needed his last name and a dress woven by his hands before he could even think about building me a bigger studio.”
“Then what happened?” Ochako asked, unwittingly being sucked into the story she probably heard thousands of times over.
“Then, I had the ugliest wedding dress known to mankind,” Mitsuki laughed. “He was rich and spoiled and had no idea how to use a sewing needle—but I was willing to teach him.” Ochako smiled at the thought—the duchess was a woman renowned for her beauty and her skill as a seamstress, but not for her patience. As Ochako grew into herself, Mitsuki appointed herself as Ochako’s etiquette teacher, but it was a (very) long and stressful road. Many nights Ochako found herself on the receiving end of a harsh lecture explaining the difference between a salad fork and fish fork. “Ochako, my dear,” Mitsuki said, dispelling the silence that had creeped between them. “Eventually, I will ask for that repayment you spoke of earlier, and I will ask for something so ridiculous that you may think I’ve gone mad. That time is far off though, and I don’t want you to believe that you owe me or my family anything.”
“But there must be something I can do for you, Duchess,” Ochako said, clasping her hands together. “I’m grateful and I must do something to show my appreciation.”
The Duchess paused for a second, her ruby eyes looking over the younger woman with a soft adoration hidden in those burning pupils. She stroked her chin lightly and hummed, a clear sign that she was formulating a plan. Normally, Ochako loved the woman’s schemes—she was fun and exciting and they always meant adventure—but tonight, Ochako had no idea what she would have her do (or what she could do) dressed in such tight garments. Quickly, the woman shook her head no and giggled to herself, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. “If you must get me anything,” she started, stroking Ochako’s cheek, “then I want a rose. A rose the same color as my eyes.”
Ochako smiled at the woman and shook her head, almost laughing. “A rose? Surely there must be something grander I can get for you.”
“Are you calling my wishes unimpressive?” Mitsuki asked, a mock serious tone overtaking her once light voice.
“No,” Ochako said, with a fake humbleness that she only used when that seemingly invisible Countess noticed her, “just easy.” With that, Ochako opened her hand and a long, green stem grew from her palm, bathed in moonlight and stardust. It extended from her before it slowed to a stop, then fiery, red petals began to slowly unfurl themselves, lapping around the stem until the flower was all but complete. Gold particles leaked from the petals and collected in Ochako’s hand, and thorns began to grow. Mistuki’s eyes went wide with wonder, her mouth dropping lightly. It was undignified and unladylike, but Ochako knew that she hadn’t cared in the slightest. With that same hand, she wrapped her fingers around the complete flower and presented it with a small curtsey. “For you, Your Grace,” Ochako said quietly, a smile of satisfaction taking over her face.
Though she may feel cursed, she’d happily choose a life where she could create such beautiful things and couldn’t tell a lie. Secrets would just have to find another way to be kept.
Mitsuki reached her hand out to the shimmering flower and touched it, her slender fingers feeling the soft petals a moment before she finally took it, breathing it’s sweet scent in. “You are so amazing, my dear,” she said breathlessly, giving a curtsey of her own. It was a good thing that the duchess lowered her head, for at that moment, a small rock came soaring through the air, landing only inches away from them.
“OI!” a booming voice called, stealing Ochako’s and Mitsuki’s attention away from each other. The two women leaned over the balcony to find the young duke standing below them, glowering. “Cheeks, you do not have to bow to that hag!” Of course, leave it to Katsuki to take away Ochako’s attention without being remotely close to her—and leave it to him to misinterpret the situation. Both of the women knew it came from a place of respect, Katsuki believed that Ochako deserved as much respect as any one of them regardless of her official title and he would not have anyone thinking otherwise. To see her bow to anyone was a personal insult to him. Which, normally, Ochako saw as chivalrous. Now, she only saw it was cute—it was admirable that he was willing to stand up to anyone for her, but come on.
“This hag put together this stinkin’ party for your ungrateful ass!” Mitsuki yelled back over the balcony, her gripping the flower tight. She huffed loudly before sniffing the flower again and calming down. “I must take my leave before I act out of character,” she said to Ochako, placing a hand on her shoulder, “but please wake me up in the morning and we can prepare breakfast together and catch up.” She turned around gracefully and walked away, giant, glass doors etched with the family crest closing behind her. Ochako gave her attention back to the duke in the garden, cradling her head in her hands.
“Honestly, Your Grace,” she started sarcastically, “what am I ever going to do with you? Scaring away my company is not the way to keep me safe.”
“If you’d allow me to take the place of your departed company,” Katsuki said, playing into Ochako’s words, “I’m sure we can think of ways to punish me.” He flashed a wicked grin at her, and she couldn’t help but think her heart would surely burst if it beat any faster. It wasn’t fair—he was gorgeous and she knew it, and he knew that she knew it and he used it to his advantage. He knew a small grin in her direction was enough to command her attention, and he was certainly the attention whore.
She extended her arm over the edge of the balcony pathetically, crying, “But how are you going to reach me? You’re too far away for me to ever punish you properly!”
“If you want me bad enough, you’ll get me,” he replied, his voice causing her face to flush. She couldn’t look away from him, even though she knew that her cheeks would be stained red and he would (mercilessly) mock her for it. Ochako needed him up there with her, yelling at him from above was far too distant to quell the obnoxious beating of her heart. He needed to be with her, touching her, and he needed to be there now.
She looked down at him one last time and raised her hand and suddenly, there was a glimmering tree ripping from the earth and growing to his height besides Katsuki. “Grab onto it,” she said, her chocolate eyes following him as he held on to one of the branches. His foot found its place on another strong branch and he hugged the trunk, undoubtedly staining his outfit with glitter. Satisfied that he would not fall, Ochako raised the tree to her level, watching Katsuki get closer to her. She wasn’t sure that it was possible, her heart rate seemed to increase as he neared her, and nearly exploded when his face was finally mere inches away from hers.
Gracefully, she extended a hand to steady him as he moved to leave the tree. He gratefully accepted it, but instead of leaving said tree, he brought her bare hand to his lips, kissing it delicately. At that moment, Ochako wished she’d just offered her face if he was going to hand out kisses—but she dared not say it. She’d probably just steal one or a thousand later in the night, when the guests grew tired of spoiled Dukes and impatient Duchesses.
(The night wouldn’t last forever, would it?)
“This plant shit you do is astounding,” Katsuki said, dropping her hand and sliding onto the balcony. “I could never grow tired of watching you use your gift.” Ochako smiled at the compliment, and wondered how it was that she managed to keep her composure this long. All night she’d wanted nothing more than to have him to herself and here he was, given to her by way of an enchanted tree. If she had no self control, she’d be all over him, kissing and biting and praying that maybe, he’d never let her go.
But she had at least an ounce of self control, so she did none of those things.
“Then that didn’t make for a good build up to a punishment,” she said simply, crossing her arms and turning away from him. While she couldn’t see him, she begged her heart to please calm down because she was sure that she would die if it didn’t.
“It actually would be a very fitting punishment!” Katsuki stated, a rare smile on his face. He gently cupped her chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes and not allowing her to move away from him—a move he often did when it was just the two of them. If wandering eyes saw them, they would be the talk of the town—though Katsuki never cared much about what people said, anyway. “For you see, I don’t believe that you should work a day in your life. The fact that you’ve already spent so much of your precious time working pains me. Watching you garden would just break my heart.”
“Well, I hope your heart doesn't break when I say this,” Ochako started, her voice dropping and taking on a serious, suspenseful tone. Instantly, his eyes widened, prepared for any news she was about to give him. If she listened closely, she could hear the way his heart almost stopped beating and she could feel his blood run cold in his veins. Ochako almost couldn’t believe it—she’d managed to scare him. The mighty, noble, Duke of the Kogeta Woods was standing in front of her, terrified. “I am employed as a servant,” she said after a bated breath, “I am the greenskeeper of this manor.”
Katsuki let out a breath and laughed, bringing his face closer to hers—only stopping when his nose was a hair's breadth away from hers. “You’re much more than that,” he said, his breath tickling her face.
“Oh, am I?” Ochako replied.
“Certainly. You’re mine.”
(Fuck whoever could be watching and fuck whoever could be listening.)
Ochako couldn’t help herself anymore, her self control had been wavering since the start of she couldn’t find it within herself to fight with her conscience anymore. She lifted herself up on her toes and pressed her lips to his once—no, twice—no, three times—as many times he would let her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down closer to her. He tasted of wine and caramel and smelled of cedar and cinnamon, a combination Ochako discovered long ago that she could not get enough of. It was intoxicating, and she drank him in easily. His hands wandered from her face down to her hips, grabbing and kneading at every curve along the way. He was handsy, she found this out ages ago, but she relished in the way his fingers set her skin ablaze.
A light brush of his hands against her ass was enough to remind her of where she was, and how important it was to keep moments like these locked away in private places. So (reluctantly) she pulled away, though unable to untangle her arms from around him. “My soul is yours eternally,” she confessed, resting her head against his forehead.
“And mine, yours,” Katsuki said, allowing himself to kiss her but having enough restraint to only do it once. “I will marry you one day, Ochako. I just...right now...”
“I know,” Ochako said—and she did understand, truly. She could see since the moment she’d started working for them that Katsuki, and his mother, hated the royal lifestyle. The traveling made them anxious and staying for too long made them depressed; the ball hosting and planning left them exhausted; and the responsibility of ensuring every citizen of the Wood’s welfare added plenty of stress to all three Bakugo’s. Masaru was lucky enough to be born into this stress and therefore, more equipped to handle it, but Duchess Mitsuki had no idea what she was in for when she married into the family. Katsuki, though born into it and raised to be a Duke (and he would be a fine one), inherited his mother’s distaste for it.
(Like he inherited her entire face.)
“I believe you,” Katsuki said, brushing his thumb against Ochako’s cheek.
“On account of my condition?”
“No,” he said simply, “because I know that, even if you could , you would never lie to me. Blessings, curses—whatever you call it—be damned. You are not a liar, nor would you ever be, no matter the circumstances.”
“I’d never lie to you,” Ochako started, gripping his hand in her own, “but if it could protect you then I’d lie. The universe would probably implode,” she joked, laughing, “but I’d protect you from that too.”
“A bit dramatic, aren’t you?”
“Nope,” she said, emphasizing the last syllable. She opened her mouth to say something more, but was stopped by a soft knock. Gently turning her head, Ochako saw a large brute of a man standing on the other side of the glass doors, silently asking permission to enter. His red hair was slicked back and his blue eyes seemed to light up the night. “Is that King Enji?” she whispered to Katsuki while simultaneously nodding at the man to join them.
“Yeah,” Katsuki whispered back, ruby eyes watching as the older man opened the door. “Wonder what the fuck he wants,” he whispered again, sending Ochako into a fit of laughter.
“It’s so nice to see you two in such high spirits!” The king said, his voice booming throughout the balcony. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” he added, his voice softening.
“You were,” Katsuki said curtly, throwing an uninterested look towards the king.
“But it was nothing that couldn’t wait,” Ochako said politely, pointedly glaring at the duke. “Did you want the balcony to yourself? We were only talking—” Ochako’s stomach flipped, and she knew she didn’t have long before everything started leaking out of her. A little white lie was enough to ruin her night and she knew this—but did she really have to explain everything she was doing to the king? No, she didn’t think so. “Maybe a little more than talking,” she corrected, and the burning pit in her stomach subsided—for now. “But it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be put off until a later date.”
“I actually wanted to speak with you, Miss Ochako,” King Enji said, causing both Ochako and Katsuki to pause. The former took a step back and let a curious look overtake her features, undeniably shocked. “You see, I have a few questions that I believe only you can answer.”
“That may or may not be true,” Ochako said cautiously, waiting for her stomach to flip and for her dress (and reputation) to be ruined. “But I’ll answer any question as honestly as I can.”
King Enji laughed, his blue eyes shining brightly underneath the dark sky. “That is the most I can ask of you, I suppose.”
“Run,” the enchanted tree whispered, and Ochako quickly turned around to look at it, finding its leaves shaking in the breeze. It then occurred that the king stood between her and the ballroom, effectively trapping her on the balcony. No matter what, her civic duty as a citizen of the Yuuei kingdom demanded that she stay and answer any question the king had—but Ochako realized that she hadn’t wanted to hear them at all.
The king released a heavy breath before talking and suddenly, Ochako felt cornered, trapped between the king and the long way down to the first floor. If need be, she could escape via enchanted tree, but that would expose everything she worked so hard to keep secret. “There are rumors,” King Enji started, “that the Bakugo’s have a maid with extraordinary gifts.”
“Oh,” Ochako said, feigning carelessness. She waved her hand lightly and gave the brightest smile she could muster before carefully choosing her words, “That rumor is false. The Bakugo’s have no maids—thieving maids, stolen designs, all that nonsense.” She gave a fake laugh and felt warm fingers interlock with hers. She turned around and found Katsuki staring at the older man with a look so intense, she felt as if she would dissolve if she met his gaze.
“I see,” the king said softly, seriously, “but they do employ someone who has great...talents.” It was his turn to meticulously plan out his speech, and Ochako knew that he knew—and the thought frightened her.
“Everyone is talented here,” she answered quickly, stumbling over her words.
“What is your talent?” he shot back, just as quick and just as deliberate.
“I garden,” she said simply, squeezing Katsuki’s fingers.
The king said nothing, taking his attention off the young woman momentarily. His eyes wandered past her, finding the large tree that grew a little too close to the manor for it to be accidental. In the distance, he could see brilliant red and gold flowers—too many of which to count and too bright for them to be anything other than a miracle. And then he laughed, a loud, booming sound that threatened to sweep Ochako off of her feet. “You’re a nursery-maid!” he said in between chortles, “those old bitches can never seem to get a story right!” He looked at her again, his eyes crinkled with mirth, but when he opened his mouth, Ochako knew that this was no laughing matter. “I do not enjoy games, maid,” he said, his voice steely.
“Fuck off,” Katsuki yelled, finally losing his temper, “I’ve held my tongue out of respect but you will not insult her— especially not on my land.”
“My apologies,” the king said without a hint of regret in his voice, “but there are rumors around the kingdom that your nursery-maid has dominion over wildlife—and the inability to tell a lie.” He looked the smaller woman up and down before asking in his kindest, softest voice, “Are you betrothed to anyone?” Ochako practically choked on her words, unable to say anything, and she realized throughout the uncomfortable encounter that she hadn’t wanted to answer. “I don’t mean for the question to be so invasive, but it is a matter of the utmost importance and I need a truthful answer.”
“There isn’t anyone with the confidence to even speak to Ochako, let alone ask for her hand in marriage,” Katsuki practically spat, unimpressed with the king and unamused with his questioning. He did not mention that any potential suitors lacked the confidence to speak to Ochako due to his lingering presence—though that probably didn’t matter.
“So you are single?” the king prodded.
“Officially, yes,” Ochako confirmed, “There is a gentleman who’s caught my attention, but there’s no wedding plans as of yet.”
“That gentleman must have to forgive me,” King Enji said, giving an arrogant glare to Katsuki, who only looked back in confusion. Suddenly, he kneeled and bowed his head, looking up at Ochako with an expectant look. “The crown prince of the kingdom of Yuuei, Todoroki Shoto, humbly requests your hand in marriage.”
“Excuse me?” Katsuki all but screamed.
“You’re excused,” the king said, shrugging.
“I believe he’s asking for clarity,” Ochako said, moving behind Katsuki, “and really, I think I need some, as well.”
“There shouldn’t be anything that needs clarification,” Enji said, standing. “You, a ‘gardener’ who can do silly tricks, and my son, the prince of Yuuei, are engaged from this moment on.”
“She didn’t agree to any engagements!” Katsuki said, stepping forward threateningly. The king gave a long, hard look at the young adult before throwing his head back and laughing, loud and hard.
“She doesn’t have to,” he stated arrogantly, a haughty smirk crossing his features. “It is a part of her civic duty as a tenet of Yuuei.”
Katsuki, furious, looked towards Ochako, who shook her head in disbelief. “When the king makes a request, you really don’t have much of a choice,” she said, her voice small but not weak. “But am I a servant to the crown before I am anything else? I deserve to have a choice in who I spend my life with.”
“Oh, darling,” the king sighed condescendingly, placing a gloved hand to Ochako’s cheek. Quickly, she moved her face away and stepped backwards, uncaring if she appeared rude before the king. (After all, it wasn’t like he was completely polite the entire time.) “You may feel that you deserve a choice , but the royal family can afford the luxury of a choice,” he spat, bitterness seeping into his tone. “We do what’s best for this kingdom, no matter what it is. We do not have children out of parental desire, and we do not wed for anything other than strengthening alliances and possessing enough power to defend our people.”
“But I am not part of the royal family!” Ochako shouted, (finally) frustrated with his tone (and still with Hagakure—that bitch. Who’s a member of high society now? ) “I am just a-a nurserymaid who can do silly tricks,” she laughed bitterly, shrinking herself behind Katsuki.
“And in four weeks, you’ll be a fully integrated member of the Todoroki family,” the king said, crossing his arms. “That is an order, Uraraka.”
“That is bullshit,” Katsuki scoffed, angry. He turned around to face Ochako, his hand gripping her tightly, but not enough to cause pain. Honestly, Ochako had no idea if she would even feel it if he did—her whole body had gone numb from the moment the king uttered the word engagement . It was such a large, weighty word, saying so much without saying much at all. Her life—her world was set to change drastically, and it seemed that she hadn’t the slightest choice in the matter. “You hear me? We can fix this,” Katsuki said, snapping her out of her head and back to reality, back to the balcony. “You need to leave,” the duke ordered, throwing a strong glare towards the king.
“Fine,” the king sneered, rolling his eyes. “Come, girl. We’ve got work to do,” he said, grabbing her wrist tightly.
“No!” she screamed, snatching it back. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”
“ We ,” the king emphasized, reaching for her wrist again, only to be met with a large gust of air, “are going back to the castle—back home.”
“You cannot and will not force her to go anywhere with you,” Katsuki said pointedly, stepping forward. “That would be kidnapping and I am obligated to protect the people of the Kogeta Woods by any means necessary against anyone who threatens them.”
“She is—“
“A ward of the Kogeta Wood,” Katsuki said matter-of-factly, rolling up his sleeves. The king narrowed dangerously his eyes at the young duke and the young mage, anger finally filling his body to the brim and threatening to overflow, splashing onto the couple. He huffed a loud, enraged breath and blew it out, smoke visibly leaving from his mouth.
“I am—“
“A threat,” Ochako finished, crossing her arms. “And I am not going with you.”
“Fine,” King Enji relented, exasperated and thoroughly annoyed. (Good—King Enji had no right to be annoyed. If anything she was the one who should be annoyed. It was her life being the one flipped thanks to him.) “But do not think that this is over,” he said, pointing a sharp finger at them. Ochako wouldn’t even dream of thinking this (whatever this was) over, despite hoping that it was. She knew better; she knew that she was about to test the limits of her loyalty to the crown and her loyalty to her heart.
(She also knew which one would win overall, and she knew that Katsuki knew too.)
King Enji gave one final, sharp look towards the young couple before turning on his heel and leaving, disappearing through the double doors and leaving their shared sight. This…this was crazy. Insane. Asinine. But in a world that cursed her body and stole her words before she could even speak them, Ochako could see how this was perfectly normal. Crazy and unfair, yes—but also very plausible. Ochako wasn’t sure if that made sense, but most things in her life tended to not make sense. This was just following the preset pattern the universe had laid out for her.
“Hey,” Katsuki called, placing his warm, large hands on her bare shoulders and snapping her out of her thoughts, “I meant it. We can fix this. We’re going to fix this.” He moved those large hands from her shoulders, trailing down her arms and leaving goosebumps where smooth flesh once lived. Gently, he gripped her hands, interlocking his fingers with hers. “There is not a chance in this life or the next that someone, anyone , would take you away from me.” He placed a small, soft kiss on her forehead, his warm lips setting fire to her skin. The soft pads of his thumbs brushed underneath her eye, and it was only then Ochako realized she had been crying.
She hoped she hadn’t started in front of the king. She wanted to look strong, like she could hold her own and was able to stand up for herself—and tears would surely undermine her message. If she showed those tears to him, if she exposed her weakness, then she might as well have given up. There was no way he’d ever let up—he’d keep going until there was nothing left—he’d turn her into a hollow husk of herself—she’d be just like the mad queen—she’d be nothing and he’d have everything and Katsuki would—
“Breathe,” Katsuki whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her earlobe. Instantly, she sucked in a large, greedy breath, drinking in the oxygen and letting her body reset itself. “We will fix this, Round Face,” he assured, confidence leaving his voice and filling Ochako’s body. “King Fuckface was right about one thing and one thing only—that this is not over. We have not lost. I will not give up until I know that you’re never going to do anything you do not wish to do. Ever.”
Ochako forced a smile onto her face. Not one of happiness, because she knew that she would have a long, strenuous battle before her—but one of determination, because she knew that she would not be giving up. And with Katsuki beside her, she would not lose, either. So, she smiled. It was small and it was sad, but it was there and that was all that mattered—right? She hoped so. She hoped that a small, sad, determined smile would be enough because it was simply all she had at the moment.
“My soul is eternally yours, Katsuki,” she whispered. “Forevermore.”
“And mine, yours, Ochako. Forever,” he repeated, cupping her face in his hands. Quickly, he pressed their lips together, kissing her with what seemed like all the fight he had in him. Ochako was not good at reading signs—she preferred to have everything spelled out for her in plain letters—but she swore she felt him pass along a message in that kiss. Maybe she was just looking for something that wasn’t there, but she felt like he wasn’t just kissing her—that this was bigger than that. That this kiss meant something, and something important. That this kiss, this particular one under a moonless sky, was a symbol that this is what they would be fighting for.
And it would be worth it.
She broke the kiss when she noticed a tear slip down her face. She was grateful that she noticed this time—but honestly, she wished she didn’t let him go. She wished that she couldn’t let him go; that they would be stuck in that moment forever, lost in an endless kiss. Maybe it was selfish of her, (certainly it was—wishing for him to be stuck anywhere for her enjoyment was a very selfish thing) but she couldn’t help it.
Maybe she was simply selfish.
“What do you want to do?” he asked softly. It was a simple question, but one that prompted many answers. She wanted to cry, to ball herself up and wail in distress loudly. She wanted to cry loud enough so that all of the Wood would know exactly who their king was and what he was doing to her. But, she also wanted to fight. She wanted to fight back and show the royal family that she would not participate in any marriage except one that came from love—and she only loved Katsuki. And she will forever only love him.
But really, she wanted to go to bed. The party had gone on long enough, and there would be dishes to clean tomorrow. Ochako knew that she’d be up bright and early, scrubbing the floors alongside the rest of the Bakugo family, cleaning up the manor that she called home (for the next twenty-seven days, if that). And she loved her dress; it was beautiful and she knew that the Duchess put her blood, sweat, and laughter into it, but she wanted nothing more than to get it off of her body and onto a clothing rack where it would be preserved forever.
“I’d like to lie down,” she answered finally, stifling a yawn, “today was very long and I want to fall asleep.”
“That seems reasonable,” Katsuki said, his arms sliding underneath her legs and sweeping her off of her feet. He brought her close to him, his smell wafting from his clothes and into her nose, enveloping her in a mass of him. Against her will, Ochako let out a contented sigh, snuggling closer to him. It was warm, and much needed to combat the chill in the air. This was intimate—and inappropriate—but she honestly could not care less about how appropriate it was. If prying eyes were to see them here, caught in this embrace, then surely they’d know that a wedding to anyone except Duke Katsuki Bakugo was a horrible mistake.
Once in the safety and privacy of her own room, Ochako allowed herself to crack—just a little. If she was honest (which she was—she didn’t have a choice but to be honest), then she’d been cracking since that eventful meeting with the king, but this time, the cracks fissured into something bigger, deeper. She’d been trying to keep herself from falling in on herself, but now that she was truly alone with Katsuki, she didn’t see the reason in keeping herself together.
So she fell apart. She broke and crumbled and splintered into a million pieces, and when those pieces were scattered about, she cried even more.
“Hey,” Katsuki gruff voice cut in, his hands never letting her go, “Don’t think for a second that I’m going to let you run off and marry some spoiled ass freak.”
“W-We don’t,” Ochako started, her tears slurring her words and clogging her throat, “We don’t have a choice!”
“His Royal Fuckface may not have given us a choice, but that does not mean we don’t have options,” Katsuki said, holding her tighter. He held her close to his chest, his steady heartbeat persuading her own to slow down. “And I swear to you that I’ll never let this happen—unless you decide that being a princess is much better than being a scullery, nurserymaid.” Against her heart’s desire and against her brain’s torment, Ochako laughed—a small, watery laugh, but a laugh all the same. It bubbled in her chest and as much as she didn’t want to let it overflow, it did, spilling out of her at a rate she couldn’t control. Laughter was such an inappropriate response to her situation; it wasn’t funny nor was it amusing, but still Katsuki found a way to provoke positivity in her. Maybe that’s why she was so attached to him, because he found ways to make her smile when all she wanted to do was cry. Or maybe it’s because he allowed her to cry openly and stayed with her while she did it. Or maybe it was because he found options when there were no choices.
Or maybe it was something completely different. It didn’t matter, Ochako supposed. She had options in who to love, and she picked him, every time.
“My soul is yours eternally,” she whispered against his chest, hoping the words would go straight into his heart.
“And mine yours,” he promised, placing a kiss at the top of her head. “You should not worry about unpleasant things such as this tonight. Get some rest and we’ll figure out what we can do in the morning.” Ochako looked up at him, her brow undoubtedly creasing with a mixture of frustration and sorrow. How could he be so calm? In a few short weeks, she’d be married to a man that wasn’t him, living in a home that wasn’t his, living a life that would not be forever intertwined with his. She wanted to get some rest, but how could she ever sleep knowing that this would be coming. A small part of her questioned him—and really, she knew she shouldn’t—but his calmness scared her.
Was he…did he truly not care?
No, her mind argued back, sharply. They said eternally. And somewhere, deep inside of her, she still believed in happy endings. She couldn’t say that she didn’t, at least.
She brought her lips to his, kissing him in a desperate, needy frenzy. It wasn’t like the chaste kisses they snuck in when nobody was looking—these were rougher, with purpose and spilling intentions and creating desires. They weren’t proper—absolutely nobody could ever know that she could kiss and be kissed like this—but she didn’t care. She needed this; she needed him. She needed all of him to be with all of her and she needed him to never let her go. Her hands cupped his face as she bought him closer to her, her lips silently pleading with him to never let go.
Gently, she pushed him down into her bed, moving on top of him a moment later. His hand automatically went down to her waist, holding her gently in place. It was a new, strange, but overall pleasant feeling being held like this by him, one that she wasn’t familiar with (and, it seemed, one that she wouldn’t be getting familiar with). She couldn’t help but release a happy sigh when his hands moved from down her waist to her ass, pulling her dress up a little.
Unexpectedly, he broke the kiss, tilting his head up an inch to whisper in her ear. “Is this…” he started, his tone low and volume even lower. His breath was warm against the shell of her ear, and Ochako found that she liked it. “Are you sure that you’re ready for this? We can’t take it back once we’ve started.”
“I…I like this,” Ochako answered, her voice just as soft. She couldn’t lie or tell a half-truth, not to anyone but especially not to him, and she didn’t want to. Was she ready for this? Probably not. But she wasn’t ready to marry anyone that wasn’t Bakugo Katsuki but here she was engaged to someone else. She wanted him, all of him in any way he was willing to give himself to her—so this was just something she’d have to get herself ready for.
“I would do anything you asked of me,” Katsuki said, sitting up on the bed. His arms were still wrapped around Ochako, pulling her closer to his chest. “And if you want to fuck then it’s not as if I’m opposed to it—but I have to know that you’re ready. I cannot do this if you’re not sure of it.” She knew he was going to say that. Katsuki was not one to bite his tongue or dress up any of his words, a trait Mitsuki wasn’t fond of but Ochako herself adored. It took a certain caliber of person to be able to speak so freely, she felt, and it didn’t surprise her that Katsuki was in that caliber.
She was a little surprised that he was questioning her, though she probably shouldn’t be. If she was honest with herself (and she was, always), she would've known that he was always going to ask if she was actually ready before doing something so permanent.
“There’s lots of things I am not ready for that are going to happen,” she said, leaning her head onto his chest. “I just want one of those things to leave a pleasant memory of me and you.”
“We have plenty of time to make pleasant memories, Cheeks,” he replied, not missing a beat and not raising his voice an octave. “It is not as if I am going anywhere far from you.”
“But I am going far from you. I don’t want to miss—”
“If you do not want to marry him then you won’t, and that is final, Ochako,” he said, a sharp kind of seriousness hidden underneath the softness of his voice. He held her close to him, his chin resting on the top of her head chestnut locks. There was something soothing about the heaviness of him, anchoring her floating thoughts and locking in their moments together. It was if he was her gravity, pulling her down to Earth when she needed it the most. “I will not allow you to ever be unhappy in a marriage. Get some rest.”
And so she did, allowing herself to fall deeper into him.
The first time she awoke, Ochako noticed that Katsuki seemingly hadn’t moved an inch at all in the night, as he was still perfectly placed in between her body and her mattress, his arms wrapped around her in a warm, snug embrace. His chest rose and fell in sync with hers, and Ochako couldn’t help but wonder if his heart beat in tandem with hers as well. It very well should have, because her heart was his own, and she’d give it to him a million times over.
Married or not.
“You think too loud,” Bakugo muttered, his voice heavy with sleep. “Let me worry about stupid shit and you get back to sleep.”
That time, she did as she was told and went back to sleep, deeming it more important to let Katsuki worry about stupid shit. After all, it is what he requested, and who was she to deny him?
The second time she awoke, Ochako noticed that Katsuki had left her side. She could not say that she did not expect this—Katsuki normally slept early and rose even earlier—but she did miss him.
It may have been silly, to miss a man she would not have the pleasure of spending forever with, but she figured that this emptiness was only a taste of what was to come. She would have to get used to missing his presence, get used to waking up without him, as the life that was laid out for her was looking more and more Katsuki-less by the second. Her life would be in the heart of the kingdom of Yuuei, pretending to be anything more than a concubine for some shallow prince, and he would be a proper Duke, only communicating with her through her husband.
Would he marry someone else? She supposed he was free to—after all, she was engaged to someone else. His people would worry if he didn’t find a partner to help balance the workload that came with ruling. Would he marry strictly for image? That wasn’t the Bakugo way; they were slaves to their emotions and something as serious as marriage must be made with their feelings in mind. If Katsuki were to marry—which would benefit his people and he would do anything for them—he would marry someone he loved.
Could he love anyone outside of her?
Ochako thought it selfish to wish that he would not—and she did not want to be a selfish woman. Though, she did loathe the idea of Katsuki ever falling in love with someone that wasn’t her. The very thought threatened to break her heart—she could never love anyone that wasn’t him, and she would absolutely die if that love was ever betrayed. It may have been an exaggeration spurred on by silly feelings but she felt that it was the truth. The thought of him ever smiling at anyone the way he did her brought tears to her eyes, and she did nothing to stop them.
Was she allowed to be sad? There were plenty of young people who would love the chance to marry a prince—but she was not one of them.
A soft knock at the door took her attention away from her thoughts, and Ochako did her best to compose herself. She sprang from her bed and rushed to her mirror, finding that she was still dressed in her dress from the night before. If Mitsuki saw her, she would surely have a fit—her dresses were not designed for sleeping and to be dressed in anything for that amount of time absolutely ruined the material. The thought of her yelling at her almost made her smile, and she dabbed away the tears still forming in her chocolate colored eyes. She sniffed once before uttering, “Come in,” though she truly did not wish for company.
Of course, the one and only Duchess was there to grace her nursery-maid’s presence, walking into the room with the grace and poise of a woman who knew what her future held. Ochako didn’t turn around, looking at her through the mirror (and while that may be rude and she did not deserve this rudeness). Ochako couldn’t find it in herself to be kind. Kindness took up energy, and Ochako learned that she had none left to offer anyone that wasn’t Katsuki Bakugo. “The garden is a little wilted, Miss Uraraka,” Mitsuki said, her voice loud and tone demanding, but with a softness that could only be detected by someone who lived with her.
“I suppose so,” Ochako confirmed, raising her eyes to meet the Duchess’s. “I don’t think they’ll be quite themselves for a while.”
“I can’t pretend like I came in here to scold you about the damn flowers!” Mitsuki yelled quietly, venom seeping into her voice. Immediately, Ochako turned around, finding the older woman looking at her with a seriousness she’d never seen in her. “I received word that the king asked for your hand in marriage last night,” she admitted, taking a seat on Ochako’s bed, gesturing for the girl to join her.
“He would like for me to marry his son, Prince Shoto,” Ochako once again confirmed, choosing to stay at her spot in the mirror. Mitsuki stood up and walked over to Ochako, staring at her with the same intensity her son had glared at King Enji with. Ochako was used to being on the receiving end of one of these looks, the Duchess was an intense woman and being raised like one of her children meant that looks were frequent, but it never failed to make her tremble.
“And how do you feel about this?” she asked, pointedly.
“Most people would view this as an honor,” Ochako said, fighting back tears, “I was chosen out of every other young citizen to be Queen. Most would find this a very exciting time.”
Mitsuki’s calloused hand on Ochako’s shoulder made her flinch, even though the Duchess was sure to be delicate. A small tear found its way down Ochako’s face, but the ever so poised Duchess wiped it away. “I did not ask about other people, Ochako.” Her voice was tight, not showing a hint of the emotions that her family was known for. It was almost unsettling, but Ochako knew that this stoicness came from years of practice—a practice that she assumed would be taught by her instead of some servant at the Royal Palace that she did not know by name and would not know her.
“I am completely, desperately, and probably foolishly in love with your son and I think this engagement is the worst thing that could ever happen to me.”
The truth never had a problem escaping Ochako’s lips. That did not mean it tasted any better as it left her body, permeating the air around her with it’s purity. The truth was a painful, ugly thing and there were plenty of times that Ochako wished she could tell a simple lie to avoid the pain of hearing it said aloud.
In this moment, she could tell Mitsuki felt the same way.
“Oh, honey,” the woman said softly, bringing Ochako close to her, “this would be so much easier to deal with had you have just been happy with this arrangement.” She dipped her head down to whisper in Ochako’s ear, keeping her voice as soft as she possibly could. It wasn’t much quieter, but it was different from the yelling that she often did, and for that, Ochako was grateful. “I love you like my own daughter—if you wanted to marry the prince then I would have been okay with it. I just want you to be happy in any direction your life takes you.”
“I can’t seem to find any fuckin’ happiness in this direction,” Ochako muttered, slipping away from the grace that was taught to her and back in to her natural, unsophisticated tone that came with her hometown. “I love Katsuki an’ I’ll never love anyone else.”
“I love you too,” a strong voice said, and neither Ochako nor Mitsuki had to look up to know that it was Katsuki standing in the doorway.
“I don’t know what we’re gonna do,” Ochako cried, gritting her teeth.
“Isn’t it obvious, darling?” Mitsuki said, pushing the girl away from her lightly. “Us Bakugo’s are fighters—and you’re a Bakugo too. I let everyone know last night and I’ll let the king know again. We are going to fight this engagement with everything we have in us.”
Before she knew it, Katsuki took her hand, shielding it with his warmth. Gently, he brought it to his lips, placing a small kiss against her skin. It might have been silly and foolish, but the little action sent shivers down her spine and made everything bone in her body turn to dust. “Ochako Uraraka,” he said, crimson eyes peering into hers, “I want to do everything it takes to make sure that you spend all your days so fucking happy, your cheeks hurts from smiling so damn much.”
Ochako may have been the only one cursed to tell the truth, but she knew that Katsuki wasn’t lying to her. She wasn’t sure if they’d actually get her out of this terrible situation, but she knew that they’d try.