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Castles can look like prisons at night.
Tall, overarching, demeaning, made out of rough bricks. Run your hand along it and regret it immediately upon feeling the layer of skin of a human hand peel off just like that. Guards at every corner, lingering with their backs to the walls, some smelling of booze, having snuck mead into canteens that hung by their belts. Men in shining armor pissing on the wall they swore to protect and laughing big-belly laughs with other men about women’s bosoms. Why have shame when you have swords, right? Right. Big men with big swords and big egos to go with.
Castles were like that. Everything big. Everything suffocating.
Dresses and corsets and big chairs.
Threats of war.
Fire-tipped arrows falling from the sky in the midst of the night.
The invasion visible from her window up the tower.
Ochaco, still in her nightgown, hands leaning against the stone railing of the balcony.
Anybody else would’ve been scared, watching an army in the distance charging forward.
In reality, she felt more pity for the army. For the foolish king who, after having his proposal for her hand in marriage refused, was now retaliating like a child being told he couldn’t get what he wanted.
He’d be the fourth old man ruling a kingdom to assume this town, this very small village with no king but one queen, would be an easy thing to take. He’d be the fourth to fail at it.
Queen Ochaco pitied him, because, of course, he wouldn’t know just how badly his action would be for him. How would he know? Yes, she’d told him politely via letter to not attempt any violence on her people. But how would he know to take her words to heart? Her people were few. Her soldiers fewer. Her town, hardly anything to brag about. How would he know they’d been three other armies before his to fall?
Even if Ochaco did tell me how the three others had fallen, he wouldn’t believe her. The others before him hadn’t. So why would he?
Really, even she hadn’t believed until she saw it with her own eyes.
She didn’t have many soldiers. The one who spent nights in her bedchamber was more than enough.
She heard him sit up on her bed, strapping on his light armor and leather arm braces, tightening the straps by the buckles. Unlike the other guards in the castle, he never wore a helmet over all that curly hair.
“I’ll go take care of it,” Izuku, her knight, said. He sounded disappointed it had come to this, to him needing to do what he had to, but determined to fulfil his duty regardless.
Her knight. Her personal guard. Her lover.
She left the balcony, went to him as he had one leg propped over a knee to strap on a bulky boot. His hands slowed at the buckles as she stopped in front of him. She cupped his face in her hands, had him look up at her, at her eyes that held apologies she’d told him before: I’m sorry I make you do this.
He smiled, rode his hand over hers on his cheek, pressing it lightly in place to feel her palm more. “Protecting you is all I could ever ask for, Your Majesty. You are my purpose.”
He only called her Majesty when not in her bedroom with her, or when he had to be the Sir who followed her around and stood by with watchful eyes. When he had to follow orders he swore under the day she knighted him, when he knelt before her and she touched his shoulders with his own sword that he now always carried around. It was the sword of his past mentor, he’d told her. From his mentor and the mentors before his mentor. It was why it looked ancient.
At least, back then, she assumed he’d carried it around with him. But there were times where his hands would be empty, and he’d have no sword case, and once an arrow had flown her way, deliberately aimed at her, and she’d only heard an electric zap and caught a glimpse of emerald light before a sword was somehow in his hand.
Before that day, she’d never seen a sword swat away a poison-tipped arrow like it was a mere fly.
She’d never seen anybody move that fast, even.
He was an anomaly, her Izuku, her knight, her bodyguard, her lover.
The guards in the castle called him Little Boy because he was not big like them. And maybe some really did think he was much younger than he actually was, due to his youthful voice, small stature, and the roundness of his face. They didn’t think he was capable of much, it seemed, before he earned his place as her shadow.
He didn’t try to make himself big with armor. What little armor he did wear was of leather over his green vest and white tunic. The leather glove he’d hold out the open window and let the messenger birds land on without so much as a jostle from his wrist. He’d let Ochaco take the message only meant for her eyes; he’d busy himself with stroking the bird with the back of his pointer finger, telling it, “Welcome home. You’ve had a long flight, haven’t you? Your feathers are hot. Let’s get you to the fountain.”
And perhaps it was this gentle nature, this complete disinterest in trying to maintain some sort of reputation of authority many high-ranking men obsessed with, that made him so easy to just sit down and have tea with. His genuine kindness. His intelligence that would be fit for a political strategist.
Small body be damned, he was a force to be reckoned with.
Before he became hers and hers alone, before, when he used to only guard castle hallways, she’d hear from the maids who heard from the guards. She’d hear that Izuku kept to himself instead of mingling with the men. That the men tease him about why he was never in the communal baths, that they laugh and say he must be ashamed of his boyish body to be with men. That he looked enough like a girl for them to have in bed.
They disrespected him that way. They disrespected her best guard.
“Do you know who the men are?” Ochaco had asked the maid.
“Your Majesty?”
“It’s alright. I won’t tell who told me. Will you tell me, please?”
“…Of course.”
Firstly, she called to have Izuku positioned in her tower, close to her. And closer to her meant he was of higher rank now. Higher than the men who now could not call him Little Boy unless they were willing to risk disrespecting someone close to the queen. She waited a few days before ordering to have the ringleaders of the men who tormented him removed from her castle. She’d waited, so they’d not see the order coming.
“Your Majesty?” Izuku one day asked her where he stood guard from the other side of the partition in her room, his back always facing the divider as maids helped her get dressed.
“Yes?”
He took a few seconds to hesitantly ask, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Hm? Do what?”
“I… You know… The guards…”
“Ah. Don’t worry about that. Say, would you like to use my private bath?” She wanted to ask where he washed. Maybe he did use the communal bath, but only at night when no one was around. But if he avoided the communal bath, then it was safe to assume he wished to not talk of why.
“Your… your bath?” He sounded flabbergasted.
“Yes. You can use it before I wake up. Would that be alright with you?”
He was speechless for a few seconds. Then, “It would. Very much. Thank you.” There was much gratitude in his voice. A kind of gratitude Ochaco hadn’t understood at the time.
There was much about Izuku that Ochaco did not fully understand.
He’d asked to wear his leather armor instead of the steel. He’d said his leather was much easier to move around in, which made sense considering he relayed more on speed and technique rather than brute strength. He asked if he could keep his green cloak on, as it was made by his dear mother. Ochaco said of course. He was always in it; it would be cruel to deny him of it.
His sword seemed to be a being of its own, sometimes in a sheath just for appearance’s sake, and other times Izuku would not be wearing a sheath – even if the sheath was hidden beneath his cloak, Ochaco was used to how he walked when he did and did not have it – and yet, when needed, the sword would be there in his hands when she was very sure he hadn’t been carrying it.
She only got the vaguest of answers when the first king she rejected a marriage proposal from retaliated.
Admittedly, she’d panicked at the size of the attack at first, ready to get on a horse herself and join the battle.
Only to recognize her knight was not with her.
She found him trudging up a hill on foot, heading straight for the army coming downhill, the wind batting at his hair and flapping his cloak.
In that moment, she’d never been so scared in her life, seeing him standing up to all of that by himself while her small team were setting up reinforcements around town to by her people some time to evacuate.
She’d screamed something, maybe to come back, to please don’t do this by yourself. She’d screamed his name.
Because in her head, her mind told her he’d be cut to pieces, that the guard she had tea with was going to be beheaded.
Then she saw Izuku put his empty hands out. A green line glowed and sparked, in his palms, turning into the sword.
A phantom sword.
He’d unclipped his cloak, let it fly off and get snagged in a tree branch.
He’d glowed. Truly glowed a beautiful green, lightning sparks flying up and down his body. He screamed and raised the sword to the sky, shotting one massive lightning bolt up the clouds. The power of it shook the ground, tattled hearts and brought people to their feet. That was enough to stun the army and spoke their horses into rearing up and throwing off the men. The men themselves stared in shock, their bravery washing away in an instant, now on their hands and knees, grabbing at the hill’s grass to climb back up the hill. They were retreating.
He’d only done a warning shot, he told her.
When she’d asked him where had the sword gone when it was neither in his hands or in its sheath, he’d smiled and said, “It’s always with me.” As if that explained everything.
The thing was, she didn’t need everything explained.
Having him come back alive was enough.
“I serve you. It’s why I’m here,” he’d said, kneeling, taking her hand and pressing the back of it to his forehead.
She slipped her hand back, and gently grabbed his cheeks with both of her palms. “I know. But please don’t throw away your life.”
“You know I can’t promise that, Your Majesty.”
“I know.” She rubbed her thumb up his cheek, beneath his eye. “And that scares me. Because I know you’d do it.”
He smiled sadly. “I would. I’m sorry.”
“Can you promise me something else? Can you promise me you’d do your best to stay alive?”
“Your Majesty, that’s…”
“Look up, please. Look me in the eye.”
He did, brows furrowed.
She said, “I want you here. Here. With me.” Her hands were still holding his face. “Please understand.”
His eyes were wide. He swallowed thickly. “I’m just your knight, Your Majesty.”
And that’s what made it so hard. Adding the ‘just’ part in there somehow made it sound less when it was so, so much more than that.
She tipped his head so they touched temples.
She spoke, “You’re amazing every day, and here you are, saying you’re ‘just’ a knight.”
He gave a sad, half-hearted chuckle. “What more could I be?”
“You’re so much more. If only you could see what I see.”
He looked conflicted, half-embarrassed, half-grimacing. “I don’t think you will like me much if you knew more than what you see.”
And she didn’t understand.
Why.
Why he couldn’t just let her love him.
Why he didn’t think anybody loving him was possible.
***
He protected the town another two times the same way, firing a warning shot into the sky. He’d rather not kill anyone if it was possible. He’d come back to her, take a knee, and say, “I’m here.” He always came back. And always, it felt like she’d never get tired of the relief and happiness that washed over her whenever he came home.
Home. To her.
And it took so much resistance to collect him in her arms.
She wanted to tell him, “Never leave me.” It wouldn’t work. She knew it wouldn’t. The best she could ask for was for him to always come back.
He was irreplaceable, as a guard, as a friend, as someone she wanted hold in bed.
It took her a long time to finally hold him like how she’d always wanted. She would’ve liked for it to be under sweeter circumstances.
She was at her work desk, dip pen between her fingers, tracing carefully curved words onto a letter for Izuku to wax seal later. Only, it was hard to focus on the latter when her knight seemed to struggle standing still today. He’d sway side to side a little, or pretend that he needed to stretch his back, or head out onto the balcony where Ochaco would watch him pace back and forth, then finally, lean on his elbows against the railing.
A few things trilled into Ochaco’s mind.
One: that she’d seen him do that before, but had assumed he’d simply been bored, or just aching to move around.
Two: that he did this in a certain pattern. Every certain number of days. Every time Ochaco asked him if he was feeling alright, he’d laugh it off and say he’d had a tough training session the other day.
Three: remembering how he’d ask the maids to prepare tea with painkilling herbs with a square of dark chocolate on the side whenever Ochaco herself exhibited pain enough to leave her bedridden.
Putting all three together, Ochaco’s pen slowed to a stop. She plopped the pen back in the ink bottle. When she stood, her chair made a noise. It wasn’t loud, but Izuku instantly came back inside and closed the balcony door behind him, assuming she was finished with her letter and needed him to melt some wax chips and seal the letter for her.
Instead, Ochaco said, “You’re in pain.”
He stilled, his back still to her, his hands on the balcony curtains. “Ah. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be distracting.”
“No, it’s alright. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I must’ve not slept right. I hope I didn’t bother you.”
She smiled at him and shook her head. She gestured to her bed that was partially hidden behind the canopy of maroon drapery. “Lie down on my bed.”
“What? But, Your Majesty…”
“It’s alright. You’ve been on watch all day. Have a rest. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
His eyes softened. “I…”
“It’s alright. I insist.” Ochaco took his hand, led him to the bed, didn’t let go of his hand until he sat down on the edge of the mattress.
She left him on the bed to step outside for a few seconds and inform a maid to bring by a tray of chocolate and tea with pain-soothing herbs. When she came back, she heard the bed creak. Izuku had slipped off his boots, draped his cloak on the edge of the bottom of the bed, and was resting on his belly. He had one gloved hand dangling off the bed, and the other on the pillow, curving over his head, and his face smooshed into the pillow.
She sat on the edge and heard him exhale deeply.
“You knew,” he said into the pillow, his voice defeated.
“Not until recently, no. I think I might’ve questioned it before, but every time I did, the thought would slip away. I saw you as Izuku. Still do. Maybe that’s why my mind didn’t care to think too much about it. It wouldn’t change anything.”
He turned to look at her with one eye, half of his face pressed to the pillow. “And now?”
She smiled sweetly at him. “Still doesn’t. I will never understand what it’s like to be you. I do know I can’t imagine not having you as my knight.” She stroked his cheek. “So, it’s alright.”
He closed his eye, breathed deeply, his inhale shaky, like he was trying not to cry.
Ochaco asked, “Do you have clean sanitary cloths?”
“Hm. One’s airdrying in my room, somewhere the maids won’t see. The other… well…” He was currently wearing.
“I understand. Are they in good condition?”
He gave a defeated chuckle. “No. I’ve restitched them many times.”
Ochaco ran her fingers through his hair in sympathy. “I’ll ask to have a few more delivered here. I’ll say it’s for me. Would that be okay with you?”
“It would,” he whispered. “Thank you.” He gave a short laugh that sounded more pitiful than humorous. “My body hates me.”
And Ochaco knew he wasn’t referring to just the monthly bleeding, but something that got more severe during that. “I’m sorry. It must be difficult,” Ochaco said. She lowered her head, so it was touching his, and hoped he understood her silent “I love you”. He nudged her back, relishing the affection from the touch.
She asked, “Where’s it hurting the most?”
“It’s mostly my lower back right now.”
“Can I?”
He thought of it for a moment. “If it’s you, then alright.”
She slid her hand down his back and gently rubbed at where she remembered her own pain would be. “I can run you a hot bath.” She suggested. When he didn’t answer, she turned to him and saw that he’d been looking at her with half-lidded eyes in wonder.
“You’re spoiling me,” he said, blushing.
“What if I said I liked spoiling you?”
He only blushed harder and pressed his face deeper into the pillow.
Ochaco giggled. “Didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Izuku mumbled something into the pillow.
“What was that?” Ochaco asked.
In a shaky voice, he said more clearly, “And if I asked for your lips?”
Now it was Ochaco’s turn to blush. “I thought you’d never ask. Lift your head a little.”
He did, and she gently grabbed his chin, holding him in place, and took his lips in hers. They both held their breaths, feeling the others’ skin, their own blood roaring in their ears, letting the piece of the moment linger as long as possible. When they parted, both of their lips still half-open, there was only silence. He got on his elbow and reached for her face with his other hand, pushing away one of her hair strands and cupping her cheek, his finger grazing her pearl earring.
“May I be greedy and have another?” he asked.
She giggled. “It’s funny hearing you call yourself greedy when I’ve been the one dreaming about you.”
“Is that a ‘yes’?”
She laughed. “Yes, Izuku.”
He tilted her head for another kiss. And another. And when Ochaco giggled through another, he laughed through the kiss as well. He suddenly drew her in, dress and all, onto the bed with him, rolled her over him, and plopped her onto the mattress beside him before propping his elbows on either side of her laughing face. They both had tears in their eyes. Both queen and knight realizing just how much they’d needed this.
“I love you more than you can ever imagine,” he said, looking her straight in the eyes, his own eyes watery, overwhelmed with joy.
She rested his head on her breast. She’d have him in her bed more and more, hug him and hear his heart beating past the cloth wrapped around his chest that kept his breasts pressed flat. During nights when the wind was cold but the bodies beneath the sheets weren’t, he’d let her see his scars beneath his vest and tunic, the discoloration of years of hard work peaking wherever the chest cloth did not cover. He let her touch him. He showed her where it was okay to touch. She showed him her body as well.
They cried ‘I love you’ many times over. There was less “Your Majesty” and more just “Ochaco.”
They shared the bed, grabbing each other’s hand, staring up at where the drapery of the bed canopy swirled to a point in the middle.
“Hey, Izuku?” she whispered.
“Yes?”
“Are there words I should not refer to you by?” She couldn’t understand his life. What she could do was respect him.
He weaved his fingers their hers. “Would it surprise you if I said being called a man was one?”
“Oh?” It was an oh that was part curiosity, and part gentle interest.
“Yes. It’s hard to explain what I feel. I know I’m not a woman. But I also know I’m not quite a man, either. Only partway. I don’t have the words for it. I’d like to be seen as just Izuku. And as your knight, of course.”
She drew the back of his hand to her lips, giving it a kiss. “You’re amazing, Izuku. I hope you know that.” She heaved herself up on her elbows and dipped her head to hiss him just above the brow. “I love you.”
And now, here he was, sitting on her bed, putting his leather armor on to head out and save her town again. Again, she kissed his brow, then felt his gloved hand on her chin, tilting her for a kiss on the lips.
“I hope you don’t mind me being greedy again,” he said, managing a soft smile.
She gave him the kiss on the lips he requested, and a smile of her own. “As long as you come back to me, alright?”
“I go out there so I can be here with you.”
She’d see him leave, and step out onto the balcony and wait. Wait for the sound, the flash of light. The roar of the sword. The roar of the knight who worked ten times harder than any other knight to be where he was. The light was terrifying to invaders, but a sound to celebrate in town.
He came home, as he always did.
He took a knee before her. “I’m here.”
And froze in confusion when Ochaco knelt to the floor. Before he could ask why, she grabbed his face in both of her hands, and kissed him so hard, he let a sound squeak at the back of his throat.
They parted, and she said, “Promise me you’ll try your best to stay alive for me.”
He looked her in the eye for the longest time. “You are my purpose, after all.”
“You’re so much more than you think.” She drew him into her arms, tucked her head against his neck. Her Izuku, her knight, her bodyguard, her lover. “I hope one day you can see what I see.”