Chapter Text
“Well?” The brush of a finger on red-speckled white, pearlescent skin in candlelight. “Go on, sweetheart,” Katsuki whispers.
A breath, tingling and short. The lilt of an accent in an unfamiliar tongue.
“Katsuki—” it’s goodbye in a word, hope in a sentence— "when I gone, come find we.”
A sudden burst of laughter. Loud, impossibly fond. “Try again, princess.”
Shouto pouts, half-hearted, drowned in a huff—then in a smile.
“Find me, Katsuki.”
And Katsuki’s answer is carried on a hum, a touch—a kiss.
A promise sealed in another tongue.
“‘Course I will. Right here’s where you belong, Shou. Right here with me.”
Wet cold suddenly seeps into the crack between glove and sheepskin coat, making Katsuki shiver. He glowers down at the two glittering eyes peering up at him with mischief.
“Damn mutt,” he grumbles, planting his offended hand on the offending head.
The Wolf headbutts him in kind, then rams his body into Katsuki hard enough to veer him sideways. Like most things Dynamight does, he does it brusquely, powerfully. To send a clear message.
“What’s wrong?” he is asking.
The better question, in Katsuki’s opinion, would be ‘what isn’t’—but for his Beast’s concern for him, he does feel slightly better. Coarse fur pricks at his gloves, echoes of warmth seep into his side and slowly, he starts to feel grounded. Grateful too. So he allows himself a few scratches between the Beast’s ears, dusts off some snow from his head—then hip checks the little bastard, just for good measure.
By now, the howling of the wind has abated some but the piercing chill that it brought with it has not. There is a week’s worth of travels in Katsuki’s bones that doesn’t do much to help brave this Deavoren winter. Still, he doesn’t mind the chill much—he’s no stranger to it, after all. As a proud Norfolk nomad, he was born of the snow—walked his first steps on frozen waters, learned first to swim ‘neath the cover of an iceberg, studied every shape of snowflake there is to see.
Winter is his blood, his home and his single most comfort.
That said, Katsuki sure would’ve been glad to have reached their destination by now… He and his Pride have burned through all of sunlight and far more night than he would like today, and as Chief of said Pride, the safety of his people is his responsibility entirely. Where he goes, they go, and to have brought them on such a dangerous journey leaves him all the more aware of his duties toward them. If they all weren’t currently traveling on such a large road—where rows of strangely bright balls of fire mounted on pikes illuminate the path—Katsuki would’ve found them all a cavern and decreed they rest there till morning.
That would’ve been the sensible thing to do, at least.
But though the night is well underway now, the road is as clear as day under those crystal balls of fire.
It’s unsettling, somewhat, for something so unnatural to guide them—but undeniably, it’s a useful trick too.
“So this is magic?” Eijirou pipes up from the rear, wonder evident in his voice. “Bros, it’s so manly! Looks like they bottled up stars to guide travelers in the night.”
Eijirou’s Beast Tortoise, the one he named Manly Red, starts repeatedly snapping her beak in excited agreement—and Katsuki rolls his eyes. Sentimental idiots, the two of ‘em.
“Nah bruh, that can’t be it,” Hanta declares firmly from beside Eijirou, voice dripping with amusement and over-the-top confusion. “You can’t bottle up a star, or else you and Denki’d be done for!”
Oh, for the love of—
“Bro!” Denki exclaims wobbily, Mina snorts from the back, and Katsuki suddenly wants to throw someone off a cliff.
When the Mumbling starts, he knows he has his volunteer.
“Eijirou’s right though,” that idiot Deku begins, fucking oblivious. “This is real and actual Deavoren magic! Like in the stories—” Katsuki starts looking in the distance, scans the terrain. “And these lights go on until the trees all the way over there, maybe even further than that! They’re so bright too. It must take tremendous amounts of energy to light them u—”
A bleat cuts him short and Katsuki sends a begrudgingly grateful thought to R. Might, Deku’s Ram, for punching the words out of his Companion’s mouth…
Did everyone a favour, that one.
His gratitude is short-lived, however, and he forgets all about it when a bird suddenly screeches overhead, R. Might’s bleats grow agitated—and from afar, three figures take form in the shadows of the road. Man-shaped, black.
Headed their way.
Next to Katsuki, Dynamight bristles and he growls, bares his teeth—but Katsuki plants a halting hand on his neck. He doesn’t want the Wolf blindly jumping into the fray—because among those three approaching figures might be Shouto, after all… The Wolf calms under Katsuki’s touch, his growling abates to a mere huff—but his muscles remain drawn, strung up like a bow ready for firing.
Good lad, Katsuki thinks. Who knows, we might need to fire after all.
Katsuki keeps a weary eye ahead, focused and eager, until he begins to discern under the bottled stars’ light the obnoxious red of the short coats that Deavoren soldiers like to parade in. “Amateurs,” he scoffs to hide his disappointment, “wouldn’t survive a day in the North with those flimsy clothes and ankle-high boots.”
His Pride scoffs and laughs at his comment, and Mina’s bright-coloured Puffin, Queen, flaps her wings with a loud groan of agreement.
The sudden noise makes the approaching figures waver in their step—or at least, two of them do. The third keeps marching ahead, unaffected, and Katsuki begins to discern the form of a man in a heavy brown fur coat, with gold hair tousled in a nest and a sardonic smile that instantly aggravates him.
Must be the leader of the pack.
Bastard rubs him fucking wrong though. Probably because he’s Deavoren, Katsuki thinks. He knows what the Stories say, everyone does—that the Deavoren and Norfolk are oil and melted ice—never meant to mix, that is.
So the Nest Head approaches and every instinct tells Katsuki to fucking listen to the Stories—
But also, he knows that if he were going to listen, he just wouldn’t be here at all…
So he stands his ground.
The three figures walk forward and as they draw nearer, the Nest Leader has the audacity to wave at them—and fuck, Katsuki already can’t stand him. But if this peace errand is to work, he reminds himself, then it’s in both parties’ interests to be on their best behaviour. So as a Pride Chief of Norfolk, he steps forward, keeps his stance open, his scowl neutral, and his Wolf just a tad threatening.
“You must’ve traveled long to come here! Welcome, welcome!” the Nest man declares loudly, spreading his arms in a manner that teeters between genuine and false. Katsuki’s scowl deepens. The words are spoken in a dialect, but they are unmistakingly in a language of Norfolk nonetheless. Not at all what he would expect from a Deavoren army leader man.
“You speak our tongue,” Katsuki remarks coldly, to which the smiling bastard only smiles more, chuckles too.
Seven winters, even Deku’s not as annoying as this fuck.
“I sure do,” Bird Head agrees easily. “Commander Takami Keigo, at your service,” he declares then, bowing his head at him. Katsuki only stares. He’s seen this custom before—back when Shouto’d first met their Pride, he’d done the same. It’s a greeting, he knows. Though it had always struck Katsuki as senseless, to show one’s neck to a person who hasn’t yet earned your trust, but such is the Deavoren way… So for the sake of proper beginnings, he tilts his head forward a smidge, and with impressive timing, a bird of prey screeches overhead again.
Intrigued, Katsuki looks up to see a red hawk circling the air above, looking bigger than any normal bird ought to be—
And when he looks back down, the Keigo man winks at him.
Suddenly, betrayal roils his gut and Katsuki recoils. “You are Norfolk,” he realizes.
A Norfolk commander of a Deavoren army? He’s never heard of something so repugnant. How long has he let his own Beast answer to the Deavoren King? How many years has his Beast been caged and enslaved by that bastard? Fuck, Kastuki can barely stand the thought.
“I am of the North, yes,” the Turncoat declares, his face frigidly pleasant. “But I was a wee fledgling when my Pride was killed and I, captured by Deavoren soldiers. Things snowballed from there.” He flashes what he probably expects to be a winning smile, and though it grates on his nerves, Katsuki can feel himself deflate.
His wouldn’t be the first Pride decimated by Deavoren soldiers, he thinks.
But still, why an orphaned child would side with his captors and ennemies is beyond him. Bird head, bird brain, maybe.
“Well then!” the man exclaims after a long stretch of awkward silence, taking a half-step sideways. “If you could follow me, the Roaren Palace is right ahead, gents.” He then marches into the direction from whence he’d come and his two companions step back to make way for their group—though they do so with legendary glares directed at Katsuki. Dynamight, ever so protective, snaps his teeth at them, making them jump, and Katsuki grin.
“Good lad,” he says loudly before marching forward, his Pride falling into step.
They’re doing a stellar job of reining in the rowdy, his Pride, now that he thinks about it. Chancing a glance backwards, he catches Eijirou’s eye and the flash of Soba the Snow Leopard’s teeth, as one stares and the other yawns. The most he hears from the Idiot Brigade are efforts to reassure Zuma, Denki’s confrontation-averse Capybara, that the soldiers are no threat—and in his peripherals, R. Might tries to chew one of the passing soldiers’ coat, almost making Deku lose his trapper cap to rush forward with a, “Ram Might, NO!”
Fucking Deku.
All in all, though, a much tamer sight than usual.
“You’ll have to excuse the rather smallish welcome party,” Nest Head cuts in from the front like he can’t spend two breaths without hearing his own voice. Katsuki’s scowl returns with a vengeance. “We Deavoren aren’t ones for late nights, you see.”
Phony-Ass bastard and his phony-ass excuses.
“Mm, and I suppose it’s Deavoren custom to spit into their guests’ food as well,” Katsuki bites back, scathing. He hears Deku choke on thin air, overdramatic twat, as well as two distinctly amused huffs—one from Eijirou, and the other, surprisingly enough, from the front of their pack.
Bird Brain doesn’t look back, but Katsuki can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Our guests always dine exceptionally well, I can assure you.” He sends a sharp whistle to the Hawk overhead who shrieks back in response before flying away into the darkness. How the bird knows what to do is beyond him, but then again, Beasts have always been particularly intelligent creatures. When he receives no beak nor talon attacks, he lets it go.
“You’ll be pleased to know,” Bird Brain continues, “that His Majesty The King has arranged for an audience with you as early as the next morrow.”
“Well how very damn gracious of him.”
“Kacchan!” Deku rebukes from his right in a sharp whisper, eyes fierce and disapproving. It’s a clear message to tone down his rudeness, and out of principle, Katsuki sneers at him—a well-worn habit after almost twenty-five lunar years—
Still, deep down, he can admit that maybe the idiot might have a point. Maybe.
A laugh, jolly and unrestrained, rings out ahead, interrupting their silent match. Nest Head turns around to look at him this time, smile wide and seemingly genuine. “I like you, Pride Chief Bakugou Katsuki,” he says, like they’re sipping hot spiced bilberry cider around a campfire and not still technically standing on opposing ends of a generational war. “You’re a funny man!”
Outraged, Katsuki inhales sharply to retaliate, but a hearty laugh to his left and a hard clap to his back knock the air out of his lungs. When he whirls around to chew out the bastard who would agree with this statement, he finds one of Eijirou’s serious grins directed at him.
It gives him pause.
Eijirou, for all of his innocent boisterousness and head-empty demeanor, is an incredibly perceptive person. He’s always been impressively attuned to his surroundings—and to Katsuki in particular. So it’s clear, looking at him, that he realises Katsuki is on edge, and that more than anything, he knows why. That he understands.
But his crimson eyes are serious and focused. Remember why we’re here, those eyes tell him.
On the back of his neck, Deku’s stare weighs heavy with surely the same message and—
Fuckers.
They are right, though—even he can admit it.
But fuck it, who needs enemies when it’s your family who’s got you pinned down, huh?
Katsuki takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, pats Dynamight’s head and pushes down his irritation. He allows himself to think of soft red-and-white hair for a moment, of warm and complicated eyes, of a promise made some seven moon cycles ago. He thinks of the Roaren Palace up ahead, of how he’s never been closer to it than now—and he uncurls the fists he hadn’t even noticed he’d formed.
Katsuki is here for a reason, he reminds himself, and he swears he won’t let his temper get in the way of it.
Quickly enough, the road gives way to a tall, red brick wall with guarded metal gates, and once Bird Head commands it, the path is cleared for them to pass. Some old Red-Coat quaking in his boots tries to tell them that Beasts aren’t allowed in, but Bird Head knocks him down a peg without Katsuki even having to intervene, and Katsuki lets R. Might nip at the idiot’s coat in passing just for the hell of it.
The moment they set foot in the capital of Deavoren, it feels sacrilegious—
But undeniably, he is intrigued too…
On this side of the wall, the air is stale, heavy and dry, and it muffles the sounds of the forest outside. He can hear Deku asking the Bird Head spit-fire questions because of course he does, it’s a dream for him, to be able to actually visit this unattainable city after so many years of only learning about it from afar—but Katsuki simply finds himself looking. The bottled stars cast a warm yellow glow over the desert road, bathing it in some strange disquiet. On either side of the road, there are white or brown brick settlements with red roofs and glass panes at the front. It’s clear they’re of similar make, these constructions, but apart from the shape of a fire carved in white over every door, not one looks the same.
As a wood-worker himself, Katsuki can admire such a level of craftsmanship… But as a nomad whose home is tundras and mountains and fjords, he also hates it. Because how can anyone live cooped up in one single place without ever getting to feel the chilly mountain air nor the warm reflection of the sun on fresh snow? How can the people here find happiness in these lives of theirs when they lack so much?
For a brief moment, he even wonders if they are happy.
“Oh!” Katsuki hears Mina exclaim brightly, her voice just a bit too loud, as usual. “What’s that over there! It looks like they’re preparing something!” She says this while pointing to her right, to a large expanse of snow where colourful tents are set up in the middle of seemingly nowhere.
Bird Brain huffs then nods. “Our annual Frost River Fair! It’s in a few days time, actually,” he says, before turning his head towards her and winking. “I trust you’ll come, yes?”
He clearly thinks his charms will work on her, but Mina’s natural bubbliness brings her to ignore the flirt in favour of doing a little wiggly dance in happiness, one which both Denki and Queen the Puffin mirror—even though Katsuki’s fairly sure none of them know what a Fair is.
Still. Good lads.
It’s not much longer before the constructions around them make way for a long, ornately decorated wall of metal bars that stretches to the horizon on one side of the road. Frankly, it’s another beautiful piece of craftsmanship, with golden and black metals woven in swirly shapes, but if it’s supposed to be a barrier of some sort, then it’s doing a piss poor job—firstly because Katsuki’s sure he could scale it with a single jump, and secondly because he can see exactly what it is that’s on the other side of it.
It’s hard to miss too, that giant rectangular construction, with the way it towers over them and stretches almost as far as the barrier in front of it.
He’s never seen anything like it. It’s like a man-made mountain, with dozens of glass-panes and red-and-white bricks that make Katsuki’s heart skip with excitement. It’s foolish, he thinks, that colours would make him react so—
But this is it, he knows—this is where he is.
Shouto is here.
“Welcome to the Roaren Palace, gents!” Bird Head declares, and his Hawk materializes overhead to shriek for emphasis. For one bright moment, Katsuki is overcome with excitement and dread and happiness at once, and he turns around to find Deku smiling at him with a glimmer of understanding.
In a moment of weakness, Katsuki grins back.
Because they made it here.
They’re led through the gates, and he can’t help but to drink up every sight around him. So this is where Shouto grew up, Katsuki catches himself thinking. He sees a birch tree and wonders if a young Shouto ever climbed it for fun—sees the shape of a horse carved in stone and wonders if he sometimes stops to admire it. It’s strange, to walk into someone else’s world without them being there to walk you through it too.
But it makes him happy.
From afar, he sees that some glass panes of the palace—windows, Bird Head supplies when Deku asks him—are black, and others let some yellow light spill from inside. There is a dark shape in one of those lights, and Katsuki lets himself imagine that it is Shouto himself, overseeing their arrival.
But then, it makes him wonder why Shouto hasn’t come to greet them yet—and his mood sours.
It’s late, he tells himself placatingly, maybe he’s sleeping.
And he leaves it at that.
Bird Head leads them first to a place he calls ‘The Royal Stables’, and if the air in the city stunk before, then the one in here is shit vapour. Katsuki wrinkles his nose and Manly Red the Tortoise grunts in displeasure, having the best sense of smell of them all. Soba, whose nose is also quite keen, bites her tail then to self-soothe no doubt, and Denki sneezes loudly, spurring surprised neighs further into the room.
“I’ll have to ask you to leave your Beasts in our capable hands,” Bird Head declares, gesturing ahead. “I’m sure you’ll understand we can’t let them roam freely within the halls of the palace.”
He says this and Katsuki snorts crudely. “Yeah, fat chance, funny guy,” he says after a single first glance.
The Royal Stables, as he’d called them, are really more of a long stone room with an arched ceiling, large white columns every few steps, and torches hung high on every one of them. The air is hot here, and Katsuki can hardly believe his eyes when he counts at least two dozen horse heads, each one surrounded by a metal door and two short walls between each column. There is hardly enough room in each box for a horse—let alone for Beasts much bigger than any common animal—to walk a full circle.
Katsuki feels his hackles raise.
“Uh, my boy Cello really don’t like to be separated from Zuma,” Hanta pipes up then, eyeing the individual horse boxes uncomfortably.
“Nobody’s separating them,” Katsuki assures firmly, sending the two Beasts a protective glance. Sure enough, Hanta’s Red Panda is there, curled up in a ball, sleeping on the back of Denki’s Capybara like he always is. It’s common knowledge in their Pride that Zuma gets anxious without Cello there, and Cello won’t sleep well without Zuma either, so nobody is separating them.
“Agreed,” is what Bird Head says, surprisingly enough, with that idiot smile still hung on his face. “If you could follow me into the North Hall, you’ll find that His Royal Highness The Crown Prince himself has overseen arrangements to ensure your Beasts’ comfort.”
The Crown Prince—isn’t that Shouto?
That instantly sends adrenaline rushing through Katsuki’s veins and he finds himself suddenly eager to follow the Bird Head around. The man guides them to a set of small steps and into a short wooden passageway—made from walnut, Katsuki remarks—that leads to a second stone hall practically identical to the one they’d just left…
Only in this one, there is not the slightest trace of horse boxes, nor of horses at that. All of the metal doors and walls have been removed—undoubtedly through great effort, Katsuki observes—and instead, the room is open, filled only with those same two rows of white stone columns. It’s even easier to breathe here, the air chilly and fresh. A breeze tickles his nose and Katsuki finds it comes from tiny open windows up high on the side walls. And on the far wall, he can see that bassins of water and balls of hay have been prepared as well. There are even patches of snow here and there on the stone floor, ones that were clearly brought in fresh from today in an effort to imitate the tundra where most Beasts feel most comfortable.
It is hospitable, he thinks, but most of all, it’s impressive. Sure, Dynamight might not enjoy the hay, but there is a clear attention to detail here, one he knows can only have come from Shouto himself—fucking thoughtful sap.
Katsuki’s heart squeezes uncomfortably in his chest. Fuck, he misses him.
Soba is the first to break from the group, walking into the hall like she can smell the lingering presence of her Companion, and she mewls searchingly as if wondering why he’s not here. Katsuki can relate, but it tugs at his heartstrings nonetheless. Manly Red waddles forward then and chirps at the disappointed Snow Leopard, prompting Queen and Zuma to do the same. Soon, the room fills with a cacophony of comfort that persists until Soba’s rounded ears perk up again.
When she walks back up to Katsuki, her tail is low and curled upwards, her icy blue eyes intent. In return, Katsuki takes off his buffalo skin glove and pats the Beast between her ears, much like he normally does with Dynamight. “I know, girl,” he says not unkindly, pointedly ignoring his audience. A member of his Pride is in pain, so as Chief he must address it. “Tomorrow,” he continues, “we’ll see him tomorrow.” Hearing himself say it suddenly makes it sink in, and disappointment roils in his gut that he isn’t here. As if sensing the change in his mood, Soba chuffs then and curls her tail around Katsuki in a rare show of affection—one she normally reserves only for Shouto—and Katsuki gets the distinct impression that his meaning actually came through to her.
“I can stay behind, Chief,” suddenly comes Denki’s voice, and when Katsuki raises his head to look at him, the other blonde is grinning. “We need someone to keep an eye on these big babies, don’t we? In case they need something or…”
He trails off but his message is clear: he’d rather not leave their Beasts in Deavoren hands unattended.
Katsuki grins back at him. Denki’s never had much faith in his own intellect, often mocking himself good-naturedly, but the idiot’s actually got a pretty good head on his shoulders. Smart twig.
“I’ll stay too,” Mina says then, jumping forward while flicking a pink curl away from her eye. “We need someone to keep an eye on Denki!” She sticks out her tongue then and winks at the blonde in question, who starts whining about friendly fire and arrows to the chest. Overdramatic twig.
They keep at it, boisterously lightening the mood, but it’s clear that everyone is waiting for Katsuki’s go-ahead. Dynamight comes to push his head against Katsuki, the stone necklace around his neck clinking lightly, and Katsuki thoughtfully plants his ungloved hand on the Beasts’ head, the coarse grey fur digging into his skin.
It is no secret that Beasts are a sensitive subject to both Norfolk and Deavoren alike; the first, because they are their pride, their joy, their lifetime Companions—and the second, because Beasts have never favoured them at all. Shouto, to Katsuki’s knowledge, is the very first of his kind to have ever Bonded with one. And King Todoroki Enji, ruler of the Deavoren kingdom, is a man infamous for both his hunger and his relentless efforts to possess a Beast of his own.
If Katsuki were to leave their seven Beasts here unattended, then, he knows he might be leaving them in the bear’s den.
That said, this is a peace errand, he reminds himself, one that has been in the works for many moon cycles now—one that the king himself has shown interest in pursuing. Were something to happen to their Pride’s Beasts, it is clear that that peace would burn to ashes, probably for many generations more, which is not something either party wishes for.
Besides, Katsuki can’t say that having Denki and Mina here—as well as having seen all of the efforts Shouto has made to ensure their comfort—doesn’t reassure him some more. Because it does.
More than anything, he trusts his Pride.
“Very well,” he says at length. Looking at Bird Head, the man is smiling at him with an unreadable look on his face. Katsuki scowls, but doesn’t back down. “The Beasts stay if these two do too.”
“Then we have an accord!” he says easily, the winning smile making a comeback—and that settles it.
After that, the night ends rather quickly. Bird Head leads the rest of their party through the palace grounds, then across high-ceilinged corridors and tall steps—until they’re standing in a corridor he describes as theirs ‘quarters’. He tries to sell them the idea that they should each sleep in separate rooms, an idea that Katsuki shoots down quickly enough. The room they choose is a large one with a tall window, an imposing amount of decorations and luxuries that Katsuki can hardly see under the moonlight, and a connected room with an imposing rectangular platform buried in cushions and covers. Bird Head calls it ‘a bed’, Katsuki calls it a ‘waste of space’, and of course the other laughs in response.
“Well on that note,” Bird Head continues, “I’ll take my leave of you all. I hope your stay here will be fruitful!”
Katsuki eyes him wearily in response. He definitely hasn’t warmed up to him, but he can’t deny that he has been accommodating, somewhat. So Katsuki huffs and nods his head. “See ya, Birdy.”
Another laugh. “Call me Hawks!”
“I won’t.”
And the door closes on his irritating-ass chuckle.
The very moment they’re alone among themselves, fatigue hits like an avalanche. Clearly, Katsuki’s not the only one too, as not a word is exchanged between them before the others starts preparing their things for the night. Birdy had sent their luggage ahead of them so it’s easy enough to unroll their own cots and covers on the floor. The room itself is hot and makes Katsuki’s clothes stick uncomfortably to his skin, but somehow, he’s reticent to shed anything more than his red cowl—so he takes to opening the window instead, a task that Hanta helps with, as he’s always been good at figuring out gadgets and technologies.
The moment the chilly air breezes in, the four of them breathe a collective sigh of relief.
For a moment, Katsuki just basks in the fact that they actually made it. They’re here.
Then, they lay out their four cots on the ground beside each other, and if there’s one thing Katsuki will show gratitude for, it’s for the fact that they’ve definitely got enough room for everyone in this ‘quarters’ place—even Mina and Denki will fit here easily too.
“Shouldn’t someone try out the bed though?” Hanta asks as he sits on his cot, taking out his drop earring.
“Knock yourself out,” Katsuki answers.
“Oh, well I heard that beds are actually really comfortable! I nominate Kacchan to try it,” Deku butts in then, even though no one in the entire world asked him to talk or share his thoughts ever. “Tomorrow is a big day for you after all!”
“Deku, get the fuck out of my ass.”
“Nah, man,” Eijirou cuts in tiredly as he rolls on his side. “I agree with Izuku on that one. You should be rested, you’ll meet your sweet tomorrow.”
“I’ll strangle you in your sleep, assholes, get some fucking shut-eye.”
Eijirou laughs and acquiesces easily, his words slurring together, and Hanta salutes into the night, his silhouette illuminated in the moonlight.
Deku though, who somehow ended up right next to Katsuki when they set up their cots, shuffles until Katsuki’s got this distinct feeling that he’s beeing stared at. “Tomorrow will be a good day, Kacchan. I can feel it.”
Fuck’s sake. “Have nightmares, Deku.”
But Deku only chuckles as he faces away from him. “Sure Kacchan. Sweet dreams everyone,” he says, like he’s immune to Katsuki.
And seven fucking winters, maybe he actually is now. Fuck.
But Katsuki sets that thought aside quickly enough and instead, lets himself fall asleep thinking that yes, tomorrow will be a good day.
Katsuki is used to waking with the sun, to living to the beat of nature and abiding by its rules, but when he wakes next, the sun is already high up in the sky—and instead, it’s a knock that’s woken him.
“Wha?” he mumbles, disoriented and sitting up in his cot. His clothes are uncomfortably sticking to his skin despite the window still open, and his mouth is dry.
Fuck, he feels disgusting.
The knock comes again. “I’ll get it!” Eijirou declares energetically, and Katsuki can’t even register what he means before he swings open the double doors that lead to the outside corridor. It makes Katsuki spring to his feet in a flash, not wanting to be caught unawares, and hoping just maybe that it might be—
“Yaoyorozu!” Eijirou delightedly exclaims, and Katsuki’s mood plummets with fresh raw disappointment again.
Eijirou embraces the newcomer like the overexcited pup that he is, and Katsuki catches sight of unmistakeable ebony hair and polished armour. Behind her, two other guards stand at attention, so Katsuki squares his shoulders and casts aside his disappointment.
“Princeguard Yaoyorozu,” he greets. Her raven eyes zero in on him, sharp and alert as ever. A miriad of emotions seems to pass like clouds over glass eyes, but her expression easily settles into fond politeness.
“Pride Chief Bakugou,” she answers pleasantly. “I pray snow cover the footmarks of your journey.” Her words are choppy and foreign-sounding, but she speaks their formal greeting in their tongue and Katsuki can’t help but feel his respect for her shoot up.
“And may it guard your Pride and family,” he responds easily. She pinches her lips in that characteristic polite smile of hers, and when both Deku and Hanta move forward to give her a warm welcome, Katsuki takes a moment to observe her.
Her hair is shorter now, billowy and shoulder-length in a way that complements her face, and she looks poised as ever—but if Katsuki hadn’t been keeping track of the seven lunar cycles that have gone by since she led Shouto away from their Pride, he would’ve thought more time had passed. It’s in the lines around her mouth, in her pinched lips and sunken eyes.
She looks like time hasn’t been very kind to her…
“His Majesty The King has… um,” Yaoyorozu begins after exchanging greetings, then looks to the side as if searching for words she cannot find. Katsuki doesn’t mind waiting—he appreciates the effort and the fact that she’s cleary gotten better at speaking in their Norfolk dialect, even though he’s fairly sure there are neither books nor teachers to teach her. But that’s Yaoyorozu for you.
Eventually, she shakes her head and looks back at him. “The King wants meet you,” she settles on at last, then, “First, bath and food.”
Katsuki nods easily. Food and a soak will do them all a world of good after a week of traveling.
Briefly, he wonders where that Norfolk turncoat Birdy is, if only for communication purposes—but he puts that thought out of his mind quickly enough. Best to see that twat’s mug as little as possible.
And besides, with Yaoyorozu’s basic Norfolk and Deku’s rudimentary Deavoren knowledge, they should get by well enough.
The morning meal turns out to be a horrid affair, one he would recommend to no one he respects. They’re served dry slices of some brown thing dipped in a too hot broth, and bright round fruits that are too sweet and orange for his tastes. The snow goose eggs are passable, he supposes, and his stomach does stop grumbling after the ordeal, but that is not enough to redeem the experience as a whole.
Bathing, on the other hand, is a different story altogether. The temperature reminds him of the Mighty Springs his Pride favours, and he does feel invigorated after spending a good while in there.
Having always favoured efficiency, however, Katsuki is the first of his Pride to come out of this all fresh, dressed, and ready to face the infamous King Todoroki Enji. As he waits for his Pride to get ready, he finds himself standing next to Yaoyorozu in front of a floor-to-ceiling painted window. The carpet before them bathes in warm colours as light passes through the window, and Katsuki can’t help but be captivated. It’s almost like he’s watching man-made polar lights on the floor.
“Chief Bakugou,” Yaoyorozu begins with an air of gravity to her eyes that captures his attention instantly, “something I need say.”
She speaks with an assuredness that makes him think she must’ve practiced her Norfolk for this moment especially. Considering she is Shouto’s very own Princeguard and closest friend, dread settles in his gut.
“I’m listening.”
She frowns then, worry carving lines in her features. “Something happen,” she says gravely, making Katsuki’s pulse thrum. “Prince Shouto need—”
Abruptly, she cuts herself off, tilting her head away. Katsuki doesn’t hear anything worth interrupting this conversation though, so he balls his fists, frustrated. “What,” he prompts, demands. “Speak.” He’s never cared for riddles and has even less patience to give when it comes to Shouto’s needs and safety.
Frustratingly enough though, she only shakes her head ever so slightly.
“Man, that felt good!” Hanta’s voice resounds from afar, and Katsuki wants to punch something when Yaoyorozu clams up.
“Speak in front of them,” Katsuki orders. He hears Deku, Eijirou and Hanta approach from an adjacent corridor but pays them no mind. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Again, she shakes her head, face stony. Katsuki’s ready to resort to threats when something suddenly flies by the window, casting a winged shadow on the floor for a single moment. On instinct, he spins on his heel and through the painted glass, catches the distorted shape of a red bird.
“Watched,” she whispers through her teeth, and from afar, a high-pitched shriek comes almost as if in response.
Fucking bird.
Fucking Bird Head.
Katsuki was right not to trust him, then.
Still, the bird only flies by a moment and then is gone. “Alright, tell me now,” he insists, and Yaoyorozu sends him one of those pointed looks she would sometimes send Shouto way back when. A wordless warning.
She can’t talk now and she doesn’t want Katsuki to try either, is what that look says—which Katsuki finds pretty damn excessive, considering how the damn hawk is flying away right now... But he’s seen her loyalty to Shouto on display time and time again, has seen how she always acts with his best interests at heart, and that alone is what makes him back down.
For now.
She quickly regains her composed persona, exchanges pointless platitudes with the three idiots when they approach with the other two guards, then starts to lead them all through some more corridors like nothing happened. Like this is her daily life...
Is it?
Getting spied on, going about her duties as if nothing happened—is that what she does every day?
‘Something happen,’ she said. Did she mean that something happened or that it is happening?
Fuck, he needs to know.
He’s fairly sure they cross a good many people milling about as they follow Yaoyorozu through the corridors, but distracted as he is, everything he sees is forgotten the moment he looks away. Eventually, she opens a white door to a large room she calls ‘antechamber’, some well-illuminated place devoid of people, where there are cushioned four-legged things on which she invites them to sit.
“Bro?”
Katsuki blinks. His jaw hurts when he unclenches it. “What.”
Eijirou’s looking at him curiously from where he’s sitting next to the other two. When did they get there? “Come sit, it could be a while before we can get in there,” he says, a trace of concern in his voice as he points a thumb towards two large doors on the adjacent wall. They’re three times his height, these doors, plaited with some opaque black metal with golden hues, and adorned with carvings of crowns and fires and some flowers he doesn’t know.
Oh, he thinks. This is it.
He sits down between Deku and Eijirou, feeling strangely numb. A persistent tick tick echoes in the room as they wait, and Katsuki follows its sound to something he thinks is called a ‘clock’ on the far wall. It looks like the one Shouto had, he remembers, though that one fit in his hand. Katsuki watches as the black lines in the middle of the white circle move slowly, not knowing what they mean but content with just observing their progress so that he doesn’t have to think of anything else. Beside him, the other three talk among themselves, their voices low so as not to bother Katsuki, no doubt, a fact for which he is thankful.
But it also makes his insides twist in on themselves as realization settles in.
“You followed me here,” he pipes up, not caring about whatever it is they’re talking about. He looks up at them—Hanta and Eijirou on one side, Deku on the other—and he frowns. Something is wrong here, he tells himself, and whatever it is, I led them all to it.
“Of course we followed you, Kacchan,” Deku answers then, “You’re our Chief—and it might not be very convenient considering that he is Heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Deavoren, but I consider Shouto to be part of our Pride too.”
“Hear hear,” Eijirou pipes up with a raised fist, and Hanta hums.
Katsuki looks at Deku—Deku his first friend, this person who chose and fought to follow him wherever he went, even when Katsuki made it hard to do so—and then he looks at Eijirou and Hanta, at the determined glint in their eyes and that toothy grin of theirs. He huffs out a laugh.
“Who am I kidding,” he says, “I wouldn’t have been able to shake any of you if I tried.”
“And you know it,” Eijirou laughs, bumping his fist into Katsuki’s shoulder hard enough for it to sting.
There is no guarantee that what Yaoyorozu wanted to talk to him about puts his Pride in danger, he tells himself, but if it does, then as Chief, it’s clear Katsuki will do everything for them. No matter what, he’ll make sure his Pride is safe—because that’s what it means to be Chief.
It’s only when Yaoyorozu re-emerges from those giant black doors that Katsuki realizes that she’d gone at all. It is a testament to the turmoil in his mind, he supposes, but not an excuse for staying off his guard, so he squares his shoulders and stands up, ready.
“Follow me,” she instructs curtly, nodding at Katsuki.
Wordlessly, both Deku and Eijirou flank him while Hanta brings up the rear, and all four walk forward after Yaoyorozu. Once at the entrance, she stops a moment and speaks loudly what Katsuki recognizes as his full name as well as that of his companions—and he marvels at the fact that she even remembers them at all. She then steps aside, and thus Katsuki has a full view of the chamber itself.
It is an imposing display, he won’t lie. The hall is incredibly long, spanning at least a hundred, maybe two hundred steps, and the smells of both incense and sumac hit him in the chest. There is an oppressive heaviness to the room too the moment he enters, like he’s stepping into the territory of a panther ready to pounce at any moment from his blind spot. At a glance, Katsuki registers a set of seven painted windows similar to the ones he’d just seen outside of the baths, an arched ceiling from which hangs a set of crystal stars and a long black carpet beneath his feet that leads all the way up to the other side of the room, where a set of short stairs climb up to—a man.
He is clad in black armour, that man, with red accents on breastplate and pauldrons, and woven on his head, there is a metal crown the colour of silver.
King Todoroki Enji.
Disdain instantly roils in Katsuki’s gut. It is not hard to think of reasons why he should despise this man—homicide, larceny, abject cruelty and whatever else it is that causes Shouto’s eyes to seem devoid of life whenever he loses himself in thought—but Katsuki does everything he can to crush the emotion at the source. Now is not the time for war nor righteous anger, he reminds himself.
From this distance, he cannot see the king’s expression well, but he finds him leaning sideways on his seat with an air of bored importance, as if he couldn’t even bother to show the slightest bit of interest in them, let alone stand in a show of respect. Fucking asshole.
The heavy steps of Katsuki’s boots on cloth echo in the hall, and it’s only when they’ve made it halfway through that Katsuki catches sight of a figure standing next to the king and—
Oh.
The reaction is instant. His heart skips a beat, his lungs seize as if a gust of icy wind just blew by—and in that moment, walking forward still, he is frozen in happiness.
Because Shouto is there.
Shouto’s right there, standing just a few steps away from him when before, there had been mountains and fjords and the utter stupidity of petty rivalries between them.
Now, there is none of that. None of that at all.
All he has to do is walk up to him, and they’ll be reunited.
Katsuki doesn’t remember the rest of the walk up to the steps, all he registers is that, when he’s finally there, Shouto’s eyes—teal like spring water, grey like granite—are on him, trained on him and on nothing else but him. And just like that, Katsuki is the most powerful man in the entire world.
“Missed me, princess?”
He expects a blush, pretty pink on high cheekbones to bring out the colour in his hair and soften the edges of the scar around his eye—but instead Shouto frowns as if surprised at his audacity. It scrunches his nose ever so slightly, that frown, brings his lips in a gentle press like he’s embarrassed at him, and Katsuki grins smugly. Heh, he thinks, that works too.
A sudden noise, loud and booming, tears Katsuki’s eyes away from Shouto for a moment to find the king’s thundering expression, fiery blue eyes staring him through as if he could kill with a look. In his hand, there is an intricately decorated metal stick, and Katsuki figures that’s probably what made the noise—him hitting it on the marble floor like a child throwing a tantrum.
Instantly, Katsuki wonders if he’s actually gone and thrown the peace negotiations to the fire with a single comment—because frankly, there is no way at all that the prideful King Todoroki Enji would approve of the union between his own favoured son and a ‘Northern Beast-Tamer’ as he famously likes to call them—but when the king speaks in Deavoren gibberish, Katsuki remembers that the asshole can’t understand a word he says.
Heh.
Still, how this conversation is going to lead anywhere when they can’t understand each other, he has no idea.
When the king speaks, he speaks as if he commands the very thunder and lightning, as if he owns every ounce of that which cannot be owned, which damn well grates on Katsuki’s nerves. He looks down on Katsuki with clear affront, and though Katsuki doesn’t know what it is he’s saying, he’s fucking ready to retaliate. Shouto, however, is faster at the draw and answers his father in what seems to be a placating manner.
And just like that, Katsuki is left thinking instead that the Deavoren language might not actually sound so bad after all.
Fuck, he missed that low timber of his voice, the breathy way he tends to end his sentences with, the sheer intensity of being under his focus. Hearing him now calms something deep within in him to the point that it makes him forget about the pompous ape still sitting lopsidedly in his seat.
For a long moment, father and son speak between themselves, and Katsuki takes that precious time to properly look at Shouto. Frankly, he’s always looked annoyingly stunning, but dressed in his formal Deavoren garb, he looks downright ethereal. The night blue of his expensive-looking tunic brings out the delicate paleness of his features, and the sword strapped to his hip gives him an air of deadly competence—a competence Katsuki has had the privilege of seing on display more than once at that. On his right shoulder is draped a sash similar to the one he’d first arrived to their Pride with, one that falls to the floor in a manner that would be entirely useless at keeping him warm in winter—but this sash draws a diagonal line on his torso from shoulder to belted hip, and is made from that same rich night blue as his tunic, with embroidered silver in the shapes of snowflakes drifting around the head of a—oh, a leopard.
A snow leopard.
Fucking sentimental fool.
Standing there atop the stairs, saying whatever it is he’s saying to his father in his native tongue with fierceness and poise, Shouto looks regal, soft and deadly all at once.
It makes Katsuki’s insides sizzles. Fuck, he wants to kiss him so fucking hard—wants to grab that pretty damn sash of his and just take him then and there—
Shouto’s eyes suddenly snap to his as if he’d heard his thoughts, and Katsuki actually shivers.
Fuck.
“King Todoroki Enji requests that you refrain from speaking without being addressed,” are Shouto’s first words to him after seven lunar cycles of grueling distance, and—what?
Wait, what did he say?
It’s like Katsuki’s been doused in ice water and punched to the face at once. What kind of fucking request is that, huh—and is that really how Shouto’s welcoming him, after all this time apart?
Suddenly livid, Katsuki takes a step forward to give him a piece of his mind, but Shouto cuts him off. “And I—” he says quickly, “humbly ask that you heed his request.”
Something in his eyes gives Katsuki pause, lets him see the meaning underneath the words. Humour him, he seems to say. Be the bigger man. Frankly, Katsuki’s not particularly interested in having that role, but he can see the wisdom in it.
And Shouto asked… so he refrains.
Instead focuses on something of more importance to him.
“Your Norfolk’s gotten better, Shou,” he notices lightly. “You been practicing for me, sweetheart?”
Again, that frown comes, and again, Shouto turns towards his father instead of answering Katsuki, relaying some message he’s probably concocted to appease the fool. That’s what Katsuki figures, at the least, when the king nods with a satisfied air of self-importance. In response, Katsuki grins at him dangerously.
We can get away with this, he thinks then. It’s not how he expected their first conversation in a while to go, but it keeps things fresh, doesn’t it.
The king suddenly stands up, his armour clinking and echoing in the hall as he towers over them from atop the set of stairs he no doubt had had build for this very reason. Pompous ass. He cuts an impressive figure, Katsuki’ll give him that, with that raven fur cape puffing up his shoulders over the pauldrons of his armour all the way to the floor, that spiky wine red hair and that long jagged scar, dark and raw, rustling down the left side of his face to the side of his mouth. He looks more barbaric than the Norfolk he famously calls ‘barbarians’.
When he speaks again, it is with a formality that does sound respectful, though, so Katsuki squares his shoulders in response.
He’s here for peace, after all.
“King Todoroki Enji,” Shouto translates, his voice smooth in stark contrast to his father’s gruffness, “High Ruler of Deavoren, Conqueror of the East and Harbinger of Hellflames, bids welcome to you, Pride Chief Bakugou Katsuki,” he says flatly, soullessly, before looking at Deku on Katsuki’s left to say, “—and to your friends.”
Then, he smiles.
Oh, it’s a pretty little thing, that smile—something shy and quietly excited, lighting up his eyes more than it moves his lips, and Katsuki is just so damn pleased to see it after so long…
Except that—that it’s fucking directed at Deku of all people?
What the fuck.
To his left, Katsuki catches Deku smiling back at Shouto, and suddenly, he sees red. “What the fuck,” he demands. Deku’s eyes widen, then turn towards Katsuki’s in innocent alarm—and Katsuki does not recall, to this day, having ever wanted to strangle him more than now.
“What in the actual seven-wintered fucks,” he demands, looking back at Shouto.
Deku gets a smile, and he gets two puzzled, mildly inconvenienced frowns? What, is Deku gonna kiss Shou’s ass now too? Should he set up a tent for the three of them while he’s at it, or do they want to go at it just the two of ‘em?
Distantly, he hears the king then Shouto talk once again, but he can barely discern what they say through the blood rushing in his ears, the sharp sting of nails in his palms, the violent thump of his heart in his chest. Calm down, he tells himself, you don’t have the facts, don’t let your temper get the better of you, you fucking ass. He tells himself this but still, all he can hear is the thrumming in his ears, overshadowing everything else.
Searchingly, he looks at Shouto, looks for an explanation—but instead sees something else that sends his heart hammering and his mind whirling. Shouto’s pendant—the one Katsuki’d carved for him in the shape of a howling wolf, “Because you’re my Pride now, Shou,”—well that pendant isn’t there.
What the fuck?
“A ball sounds great!” Eijirou pipes up suddenly, piercing the chaos in his mind long enough for Katsuki to detach himself from that fucking realization.
“A what?” he bites. He needs to focus, he thinks. Can’t have Eijirou picking up his slack, now can he. The world comes back into focus when Eijirou’s crimson eyes settle on him, that same serious grin on his face as yesterday. Like he knows exactly what Katsuki was thinking just now.
He thumps him on the shoulder jovially with enough strength to shake the last of his shocked anger off. “Shoubro just said, Chief. Before the peace talks begin, they’re throwing a ball for us tomorrow night. It’s basically a welcoming party with dancing and music and good food.”
Katsuki instantly scoffs, thinking of their morning meal. “I highly doubt that.”
“There will be cold soba,” says Shouto with just a hint of that brightly arrogant tinge in his voice from when he’s passionately disagreeing with something, and Katsuki can’t help but to feel somewhat better at hearing it. It’s kind of cute when he gets fired up about something. Besides those words are the first ones that sound like him at all.
There’s also the fact that Shouto kept going on and on and about having Katsuki try that favourite dish of his. “Guess we gotta go to that damn ball then,” he says.
The king hits his stick to the floor before Shouto can answer, just so he can have all eyes on him when he speaks his gibberish. “His Majesty The King declares this audience concluded,” Shouto translates, inflectionless. “Lady Yaoyorozu will be escorting you to—”
“Is that it?”
Shouto looks surprised at the interruption, and Katsuki can hear the king sizzle in shocked anger. He doesn’t care.
“We traveled an entire lunar cycle to come here and see you, Your Highness. Don’t you have anything you wanna fucking say to me?”
This time, when the king speaks to his son, Shouto’s eyes remain trained on Katsuki’s as he turns his head towards his father. And good. Fucking A. He answers his father vaguely, saying who knows what to lower the entitled monarch’s shoulders, then blinks as if he really doesn’t know what to say.
As if there is nothing to say.
“I…” he begins dispassionately, then, “I am glad to see you all again, well and healthy.”
He says this in a vaguely polite manner—in that same manner he used to address Katsuki back when he’d first arrived as a Deavoren envoy in the North, back when he and Katsuki couldn’t stand each other…
He talks to him as if Katsuki were merely an afterthought, a name to be lumped with all the rest of his acquaintances, and that—
Well that fucking hurts.
Like a punch to the chest, stealing his breath and sending his mind reeling. It fucking hurts because Shouto—despite his absence, Shouto’d always been at the forefront of Katsuki’s thoughts, always tucked in a pocket of his heart, close and cherished.
Fuck, he sounds like such an asshole doesn’t he, a sentimental fool himself. But it’s true: there’d not been a day where he didn’t think of him, where he didn’t envision their reunion and dream of seeing that smile—that damn perfect smile—directed at him.
And it fucking hurts to think—to realize—that to Shouto, that hadn’t been the case.
“Chief Bakugou,” Yaoyorozu says, materializing in front of him. When he looks behind her, Shouto is already gone, and he clenches his jaw. Yaoyorozu’s eyes on him are soft and… pitying? What the fuck? Did she know about this?
Wait…
He thinks of a red Hawk flying behind veiled windows, of hushed words and silenced secrets, of a dangerous smile hiding behind a pleasant façade… And he wonders.
Was this all a charade? Was Shouto being watched—threatened to act like this?
‘Something happen,’ Yaoyorozu’d said. Something is happening, she’d meant.
And, ‘Shouto need—’
Help.
He needs help.
That much is clear now, at the least. Katsuki doesn’t know for what, nor does he know why—but he knows that much is true. Why else would he look at him as if he could barely see him? Why else would he act so distant when he’d been the brightest flame Katsuki had ever laid eyes upon, once?
Something is wrong, Shouto needs help—
And Katsuki is here now.
So that’s what he’ll do.
Fucking help.