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Momo never read her letters.
She received them everyday and she always made sure to store them in a dry, mold-free environment but she never opened or read them.
She already knew what they said anyway. They were love letters.
Dozens and dozens of love letters that since she had turned of age she had been receiving and storing every week.
She hardly ever knew the people who sent them and, even when she did, she still didn’t read them. Shouto kept telling her she should read them, out of curiosity or amusement, or get rid of them if she wasn’t going to but Momo refused either way.
Momo didn’t want to read them because then she would feel obligated to answer them, to reject them, and she didn’t think she had the heart to do so.
Momo didn’t want to throw them out either. Those letters contained so many precious feelings, from an all-night conversation to a fleeting glance across the throne room to even some rumours of her beauty, no matter how deep or shallow they were, these people had had the courage to put their feelings, vulnerable feelings, in writing and send them to her, how could she toss them away?
But, above all the other pretextes and excuses, the real childish and selfish reason for keeping the letters was quite disappointingly simple: as she wouldn’t let herself harbour such feelings, these letters were the closest thing Momo would ever get to a real love story of her own and she refused to give that up.
So Momo kept storing them in a small studio of the Ice Palace that Shouto had lent her specially for this purpose. The towers of ink and paper rose to the ceiling, swaying everytime the door opened and Momo breathed too close by, the sticky wax falling apart with time and littering the floor and walls with multitude of colours, from the greens of Yuuei to the pinks of Uravity but, above all, the icy blue of Endeavor.
To Momo, that little room was like her very own sanctuary, with its stained-glass windows and its crooked towers, the only room in the whole castle she dared to call hers and where she could pretend that her life belonged to her only.
‘Yaomomo.’
Momo closed her eyes and knocked her head against the wooden door of her little church. ‘Yes?’
‘Some visitors request an audience with the Prince.’
Momo got up and opened the door, tone laced with authority. ‘And? They’re not the firsts who want to see the Prince.’
‘I know that.’ Itsuka was biting her lower lip, trying to suppress an excited smile. ‘But, this time, the Prince has accepted the request. He wants to see them.’
Momo closed the door behind herself and started walking towards the throne room, Itsuka hot on her heels.
‘Who are they?’ Momo asked as she fixed her shirt and ponytail, trying to make herself as presentable as she could.
‘They’re nobodies!’ Itsuka was practically beaming with excitement. ‘I swear I’ve never seen them in Endeavor and I know everyone that’s someone in the Five Kingdoms and they’re nobodies!’
‘They must be somebody if Shouto wants to see them.’
The last person that Shouto had allowed visits had been Midoriya Izuku, now King of Yuuei, and it had been three years since his last visit. Momo knew that whoever they were, they were important enough, more than enough, if Shouto wanted to see them.
Momo’s hand closed around the handle of her trusty sword, stripped to her thigh. Whoever they were, whichever their intentions with Shouto were, she would be there to have his back.
‘I want you to escort them to the throne room.’ Momo instructed. ‘I also want two guards at the entrance and, at least, a pair of eyes on them at all times until we know more.’
‘On it, Captain.’ Itsuka made a fist with her hand and brought it to her mouth as a sign of respect.
Momo nodded at her and their ways separated soon after, Itsuka on her way to meet their visitors and Momo to the passage behind the throne room.
‘I didn’t know we were expecting visitors.’ Momo said as she walked behind the throne and stood next to him, sharp gaze straight ahead.
Shouto didn’t so much as look at her, also looking intensely at the door while he fidgeted with the button on the sleeve of his top. From the corner of her eye, Momo noted that he seemed to have put some extra effort on his appearance, combing his hair out of his face and wearing the white flowy top that brought out his eyes. If Momo looked more closely, she was sure she would see the hits of makeup on his cheeks and eyes.
‘Me neither.’ Shouto breathed out quickly, as if he wanted to get all the words about before they arrived. ‘I didn’t… He said he wanted to come and visit but I didn’t know it would be so soon.’
‘I also didn’t know you were talking with someone.’
‘We write letters.’
Of course, more letters.
More love letters.
Momo nodded, still somewhat put off. ‘Right.’
Shouto didn’t seem to notice her sharp tone, too busy watching expectantly how the doors of the throne room were being finally opened.
Momo straightened her back, hand firmly planted in the handle of her sword, and prepared herself to come face to face with the latest person who had Shouto’s heart in their hands.
Only when the time came, she was completely blindsided by the person accompanying them.
A bard with short wild purple hair and intelligent black eyes was walking towards her with clear determination and purpose.
Jirou Kyouka arched an eyebrow and smiled at her, full of the cheekiness and familiarity that Momo remembered but didn’t think she would ever see again after their night together two months prior, the day of the royal wedding.
Jirou was a travelling bard, never staying too long in a single place, always eager to face the next adventure and sing her next prophecy. Meanwhile, Momo had only left Endeavor twice in her life, both times to visit Riot, and only as Shouto’s guard. Her fate was tied with the Prince’s and he was tied to the throne of Endeavor.
A traveller and a royal guard didn’t make a love story but they did make for a good night and no misunderstandings the next morning.
So, Momo had let herself slip that night.
She had let herself be reckless and she took a beautiful and interesting woman to her chambers and now that same, still very beautiful and interesting woman was, once again, in front of her and she didn’t know what to do.
How did one proceed in these kinds of situations?
How did one guard her heart in these kinds of situations?
‘Thanks for receiving us in such short notice, my Prince.’ the man next to Jirou said, bowing lightly to Shouto.
‘My pleasure.’ Shouto said, looking completely dazzled by the dark haired man. ‘I… I’m glad you’re here.’
The man smiled back at Shouto, showing off his big straight teeth and that did it, that made Momo remember him.
Sero Hanta, Bakugou Katsuki’s guard and close friend, despite the latter’s refusal.
He was definitely not a nobody and Momo knew for certain that Shouto was safe with him.
Slowly and quietly, not that Shouto would pay her any mind when this man had all his attention for himself, Momo went back behind the throne and exited the room.
She thought they could use some more privacy, not like she was trying to get away from Jirou’s presence and insistent gaze. Not at all.
But the bullheaded bard seemed to have read her mind because she appeared through the same door Momo had used to escape seconds later.
‘Did you just cross the entire throne room and go behind the Prince’s back?’ Was the first thing Momo blurted out.
‘You just abandoned me with those two making heart eyes at each other, I really had no other option.’ Jirou replied, arms crossed over her chest and tilting her head with amusement.
Momo smiled at her, her hands now having abandoned her blade to twist behind her back, trying to fidget her nerves away.
‘Hey.’ Jirou smiled back, sweet and simple.
‘Hi.’ Momo replied, so lost it wasn’t even funny. ‘I didn’t know you would visit.’
‘It was a last minute kind of thing, really.’ Jirou fiddled with one of her long earrings. ‘Found Sero on his way here, told me all about his plan to woo the Prince and decided to join him. I kinda wanted to see how it all turned out, thought it would make for a pretty cool song.’
‘Oh, well.’ Momo felt her cheeks heat up. How presumptuous of her to assume Jirou had come for her. ‘That makes sense.’
‘I might have also been hoping to see you again.’
‘Oh.’ Momo felt her cheeks warm for an entirely different reason.
‘I know I should have written or something but I know you don’t read your letters.’ Jirou broke eye contact, looking as embarrassed as Momo felt. ‘If this is awkward or something you can…’
‘No, it’s not awkward!’ Momo lied through her teeth. ‘I just… I’m not good with surprises but I’m glad to see you again too. I… Well, how long are you staying?’
‘A week.’
‘A week.’ Momo repeated. ‘Good.’
‘Yeah.’ Jirou smiled back timidly.
‘I’m sure we can find things to keep you entertained for a week.’ Momo said, only catching on the double meaning of her words once she had already said them.
‘I might already have some ideas.’ Jirou’s sweet smile turned smug. ‘Care to show me to my chambers? Or yours?’
Momo took Jirou’s hand and didn’t waste a second guiding her to her own chambers.
Momo didn’t think of what that could mean for them at the end of the week, all she thought was that she could do this, take her to her rooms and take off her clothes. She didn’t know how to say the right thing but she did know how to keep both their mouths occupied for some time.
Was she being avoidant or diving head first? Momo wasn’t sure anymore.
All she cared for at the moment was to have Jirou in her arms.
Momo wanted to touch her and taste her all week so there would be no time for words until she, inevitably, would part again, with a bigger piece of Momo’s heart in her hands this time.
Because how could Momo not fall for all the sweet words she slipped in between kisses? How could Momo not fall for the way Jirou traced her scars with her pianist hands? How could Momo not fall for her melodic voice, murmuring songs to the moon and stars when she thought Momo was already asleep?
How could Momo not fall for one Jirou Kyouka when everything about her seemed made for her?
Her poorly guarded heart never stood a chance.
‘You could ask her to stay.’ Shouto said on the evening of the sixth day.
‘I won’t ask that of her.’ Momo replied courtly as she sharpened her sword. ‘She’s a traveller, she’s a bard, she loves sharing her songs and her adventures. I won’t trap her with me in this Ice Palace.’
‘I will ask Hanta to stay.’
Momo didn’t know if he meant to encourage her or just inform her.
‘I hope he accepts.’ Momo looked up at him from her place at the feet of the throne.
‘You’re too stubborn.’ Shouto sighed, his cheek resting against his fist.
Momo just smiled and resumed her sharpening, trying not to think too hard about her love’s parting the next day.
But her avoidance didn’t make the time stop and she still found herself outside the Ice Palace with Jirou, all her belongings packed in her parcel and reluctance to part in her eyes.
‘I’m terrible at saying goodbye.’ Jirou said, one of her hands grasping one of Momo’s and swinging them back and forth in between them. ‘But I don’t want to go without saying something.’
‘Well, what do you want to say?’ Momo asked, squeezing Jirou’s fingers with encouragement.
‘Come with me.’ Jirou said in a rush, cheeks in flame. ‘I… I want you to come with me.’
‘What?’ Momo asked, surprised.
‘I… A night, a week, is not enough for me.’ Jirou took Momo’s other hand in hers too. ‘I don’t want to see you every two months or six months when we find ourselves in the same wedding. I don’t want to have to come up with excuses, to have to beg my friend to come here with me, to see you again. I want more.’
‘You begged Sero to come here?’ Momo asked, terribly disoriented.
‘That’s what you get from all that?’ Jirou asked, laughing. ‘Yes! I was the one who asked him to come here, because he was too nervous to visit the Prince on his own and because I wanted to see you again.’
Momo didn’t know what to say.
‘I didn’t want to tell you that. I know all about your fans and the love letters and I didn’t want to be like that, like them.’ Jirou scrunched her nose with distaste. ‘I didn’t want to be another unopened letter stored in a room.’
Momo’s mind went to a room full of letters hidden in a corner of the Ice Palace, full of impossible fantasies. She hadn’t even thought about the room's content since Jirou’s arrival. With Jirou, the world seemed too grand and vast to stay trapped in a tiny church of paper towers, looking as unknown feelings wasted away when she could be acting on her own.
‘You’re not like them.’ Momo interrupted her before she said another stupidity and before she lost her nerve. ‘I… I would have opened your letters. I would have read them and re-read them until I had them memorised and I would keep them in my room, next to my bed.’
Jirou was starting to look at her funnily, probably due to the nonsense she was spewing but it only pushed Momo further, to finally say all that she had kept trapped inside her unopened heart.
‘I can’t go with you. I simply can’t. My place is here, in the Ice Palace with Shouto. I promised to protect him with my life and I have no intention of breaking that promise.’ Momo gulped. ‘And I won’t ask you to stay either, that wouldn’t be fair to you. But, I want to ask you to visit often, and I promise that I will read each and every letter you send and I’ll answer them all.’
Was that enough? Momo wanted very badly for it to be enough for Jirou because it was all she could offer her.
Jirou took a step forward, an amused smile dancing on her lips. ‘Will you get rid of all the other letters too? I want mine to be the only ones you get.’
Momo smiled back, bright and happy. ‘It’s done, darling.’
‘Then, I suppose I will accept.’
Jirou stood on her tip toes and looped her arms around Momo’s neck, bringing her down to kissing level.
Momo kissed her back, grinning so widely it broke the kiss.
Jirou would still leave with a piece of Momo’s heart with her but she would come back.
She would keep coming back again and again to Momo and Momo would wait for her each and every time.
And that was enough, more than enough for her.
It was her own kind of love story.
Funny and imperfect but all hers.
Momo would cherish it forever, store it in its own very dry and mold-free corner of her chest to revisit each day, each second, until the next time Kyouka was with her again.