Chapter Text
This ball, like all the others, is turning out to be a bore.
As you walk about the grand hall, greeting and exchanging pleasantries with guests, you feel yourself choke back a yawn. From behind you, your guard, Hitoshi, does the same.
The two of you make your way over to the hors d'oeuvres table for a brief moment’s respite. Hitoshi sneaks an olive into his mouth and you shoot him an amused look, making it clear you caught him. He shrugs, not bothered in the slightest.
“Tonight seems to be dragging on forever,” you say to him, grabbing a cracker and spreading some soft cheese over it before taking a bite.
“Indeed, Your Highness,” he agrees. “Perhaps if you simply watched the crowd from afar like normal, the evening would go by quicker,” he suggests with a sarcastic roll of his eyes.
You give him another side-eye, this time unamused.
“You know very well I would like nothing more,” you chide him. “But Father and Mother insisted on me being present and greeting guests this Winter Ball.”
Looking out at the sea of people, you spot your friend and tutor, Neito, having a heated conversation with his father. Neito ends their discussion abruptly and splits off from his father with a huff, catching a glimpse of you from across the room. His soured expression softens slightly as he makes his way over to your side.
“Your Highness,” he greets you with a bow once close enough, and you courtesy lazily in return. He sneers at your posture, but it’s all in good fun. “We will go over that again first thing tomorrow,” he promises.
“Good of you to finally join us,” you tease him, the three of you easing up on the formalities and talking to each other in hushed whispers.
“Oh, lay off,” Neito huffs, pushing the loose strands of his blond hair out of his face. “Father insisted on parading me around in front of his friends, just to run off and ditch me to do Gods’ know what.”
“To chat up the new serving girl?”
“To powder his big nose?” you and Hitoshi say in unison.
“Likely both,” Neito sighs in annoyed exasperation.
His father, a prominent diplomat in your father’s court, has recently been working in The Empire of Fire and Ice - likely trying to keep the peace with its power-hungry leader, Sir Enji Todoroki.
You can spot Sir Enji in the crowd easily, his large frame and domineering presence making him impossible to miss. He is deep in a conversation with your father and older brother, and beside him stands his youngest son and crown prince, Shoto Todoroki.
How the youngest of his three sons became heir is entirely beyond you.
Your brother, maybe feeling your gaze on his back, turns and locks eyes with you. You’re startled that he found you in the crowd so easily, and give him a curtsey in greeting. He nods, acknowledging that he’s seen you, then turns back to rejoin his conversation.
“Your Highness, I hear you managed to talk your way out of another engagement recently?” Neito asks, treading carefully around the sore subject. You roll your eyes, already extremely tired of this unpleasant topic.
“Do not get me started,” you moan in exasperation. “My family would have me sit in a classroom my whole life, then marry me off to some man twice my age before I’ve even had a chance to glimpse the world I’ve learned so much about with my own eyes.”
As its princess, you've been prepared to strengthen your homeland, The Kingdom of Green, through your marriage since you were a little girl. Selecting a wealthy or politically influential husband could secure your kingdom’s dwindling strength for another generation at least.
“Once I’ve seen my dream come true and travelled the six kingdoms for myself, I’ll happily marry whomever my parents deem necessary. Until then-” your train of thought is stopped in its tracks by a commotion in the distant crowd.
A red haired man wearing garb from the Dragon Lands appears to be profusely apologising to a lord of your kingdom.
There is a deep, wine red stain along the lapel of the lord’s suit, and the red haired man is dabbing at it incessantly with a napkin, apologising profusely. His efforts are of no use now, though, as the lord’s sage green suit has been ruined.
Though there’s some sad amusement to be found in the whole ordeal, you quickly find yourself making your way through the crowd to intervene, Hitoshi and Neito following closely behind you.
The last thing you need tonight is an argument amongst the guests.
“My Lord,” you say once within earshot of the two men. You offer them both a polite smile and the lord quickly straightens himself, clearing his throat and smoothing out his stained lapel. “What seems to be the issue here?”
“Your Highness,” he greets you with a bow. Upon hearing how the lord addresses you, the red haired man also straightens his posture. “This gentleman here was just telling me how he was going to reimburse me for the costs of this suit he damaged. Isn’t that right, Sir?” he looks to the red haired man expectantly.
“Reimburse you? But whatever for?” you ask in feigned bewilderment. “You’re a man of great importance in our court, My Lord. Surely, the cleaning cost for this suit will be of little consequence to someone of your standing?” The lord’s brow furrows and begins to sweat as he squirms under your sharp gaze.
“Or, are you implying that my father is not paying you enough to support yourself?” you chide.
“No, Your Highness, I would never!” he chokes out in panic.
“Nonsense! If you can hardly cover the repairs of your suit, perhaps we should go and find my father now and the two of you can discuss a raise?” You smile to yourself as you imagine how that scene would play out.
“Or, if you would prefer, I could cover the costs using my own, personal funds, and we can sweep this all under the rug?” you suggest, putting the final nail in the lord’s proverbial coffin. He goes white at the mere suggestion of it and quickly dismisses himself. As you watch his shrewd form slink away in defeat, a satisfied smile on your face, the red haired man beside you lets out a low whistle.
“I’m surprised…!” he says, grabbing your attention. His laugh is boisterous and warm, and lightens the mood instantly. For some reason, you’re put at ease.
“Whatever for, good sir?” you ask him. He seems to think his words over carefully for a moment before speaking.
“I don’t mean this in a rude way, so please don’t take offense, Your Highness, but you’re very different from what I’d imagined you’d be like.” He rubs the back of his hair sheepishly and you resist the urge to play with your own.
Your mother had spent all afternoon styling it to perfection, ensuring every single one of your long, unruly strands was in its place. You’re suddenly reminded of how the corset she made you wear is digging into your sides, and straighten your posture to relieve some of the discomfort.
“And? What were you imagining?” you ask him, curiosity getting the better of you.
“Hmm…” he thinks to himself for a moment. “I was expecting someone more… quiet?” he says. And he’s not wrong.
Though in private you might wield your mouth and your education, the only two ‘weapons’ you have, like an iron club, in public, you are usually much more elegant and refined.
“A princess,” you were taught from a young age, “Should be seen and not heard.”
Before you can answer the man, you’re startled as the ground beneath you begins to shake ever so slightly as heavy footsteps approach.
You turn around to see who could possibly be making such a racket with their mere gait, and are surprised to find Katsuki Bakugo, the crown prince of the Dragon Lands, making his way towards you.
His crimson coloured cape billows behind him as he storms through the crowd, the thick, cream coloured fur along his shoulders sticking out in every which way, like his ash blond hair.
“Kirishima…” he says threateningly under his breath. The red haired man freezes for a second, before putting on a relaxed front.
“Hey man, where’ ya been?” he says, his tone overly friendly, seemingly in an attempt to cancel out the infamously hot-headed prince’s bubbling rage.
The Barbarian Prince is as rough and rugged as the Dragon Lands themselves, from what you hear at least. The last time you caught a glimpse of him was the Summer Ball your kingdom hosted three years ago where he’d spent the whole night sulking in the corner and growling at anyone who dared try to approach him.
“Don’t gi’ me that crap,” Bakugo warns Kirishima sharply. “C’mon, we’re leaving,” he says, his tone final.
“What? But Your Royal Highness, they haven’t even made the announcement yet?” Kirishima tries to argue, but his protests fall on deaf ears. Bakugo already has him by the bicep, and is dragging him towards the hall’s exit post-haste. Rather rudely, he has paid you no mind.
“What? What announcement?” you ask in confusion, wracking your brain for any mention of something like that happening tonight.
The Summer and Winter Balls are usually nothing more than a formality, a seasonal excuse for the highest from each kingdom to mingle and maintain relations - a formal announcement is very unusual.
Bakugo stops in his tracks and turns to face you with a snarled expression, ready to chew out whoever dared to address him so casually. When he sees it’s you, The Princess of the Kingdom of Green, he pauses for a moment before snickering to himself in amusement, taunting you.
“Congrats, Your Highness,” is all he says, a smug smile on his lips. He gives you one last, satisfied look, then turns and leaves, dragging Kirishima behind him. Despite yourself, you feel irritation bubbling under your skin.
“How rude! I can’t believe him,” you huff, turning around to face Neito and Hitoshi who had been behind you the whole time.
“Your Highness…” Hitoshi says, a look of concern taking over his features.
“Why did he congratulate you…?” Neito finishes for him.
“How should I know?” you grab a champagne flute from the tray of a passing server, sipping it to cool your head. “That brute is as unpleasant and ill-mannered as they come! I swear-” you begin to rant, but Hitoshi cuts you off.
“No, Your Highness," he says, this time with some urgency in his tone. “Kirishima mentioned an announcement, and Sir Katsuki just congratulated you…”
Your stomach drops, and a chill runs down your spine.
Oh…
Oh no…
The three of you seem to put the pieces together at the same time. As you look at your friends, the dawning realisation of what’s going on sweeping across your face, your father steps forward on the ballroom’s stage to address the crowded room. Behind him, stands Sir Enji and his crown prince, Shoto Todoroki.
Oh no…!
Your father begins waffling on about something to do with ‘the approach of spring’ and 'new beginnings’, but the sound of your blood rushing past your ears and the thrumming in your head make it hard to pay attention to exactly what he’s saying.
Despite being muddled in with the guests, your father finds you in the ballroom quickly and beckons you forward onto the stage. You still can’t really hear what he’s saying and freeze for a moment, then, you pass your glass off to Neito, and obey.
“My beloved daughter…” your father says to the onlookers as you join him on stage. You notice your older brother standing at the back with your mother, a sombre look on his face.
“Since your coming of age two years ago, your mother and I have worked tirelessly to find you a worthy suitor,” Your father grabs your hand and squeezes it, a silent demand to fix your soured facial expression. “It is with great joy that I can tell you, daughter, our search has ended!”
The crowd erupts in cheers of joy. Though some seem pleasantly surprised by the news, some from your and the Empire’s courts reactions are more tamed, suggesting they might have already known about this.
From where he stands at the back of the stage, Prince Shoto steps forwards and approaches you.
Once he’s standing before you, you’re able to notice how handsome he is despite the scar that covers his left eye - or perhaps because of it?
The two of you stand awkwardly at an arm's reach away from each other. He bows to you, and you slink into a perfect curtsey in return, ever aware of the watching onlookers.
Right now, you think back to how you greeted Neito earlier, I will not get away with a lazy curtsey.
Then, to your horror but not surprise, Shoto gets down on one knee and pulls a jewelled ring from his pocket.
You look down at him, too stunned for words, and he looks back at you blankly, almost as if he’s unsure what to say. He hesitates, looking to the side to avoid meeting your gaze, then speaks.
“Your Highness,” he eventually says. The guests hold their breath in anticipation, hanging onto every word he says. “Will you allow me the honour of taking your hand in marriage?”
This is on purpose, you’re sure of it. Having him do this here, in front of a crowd of people, is surely a tactic your family has employed to get you to comply. They’ve tied your hands.
Rejecting him here would create a scandal. It would completely go against the public image you’ve been carefully crafting over the years. A delicate, refined and duty-bound princess would never reject a proposal from someone her family has approved of.
And so, you accept it.
You extend your hand to Prince Shoto and allow him to slide the ring onto your finger. It’s a gaudy thing, with a silver band and blue and red stones - the complete opposite of the gold metal and green colours that represent your kingdom.
Once the ring is on your finger, Prince Shoto rises from his kneeling position and the two of you turn together to face the crowd, hand in hand. Though you cannot hear the sound of the applause, you can see people moving their hands together, clapping and cheering in celebration.
Forcing a smile onto your face, you let them shower you both in praise.
And then, in the very far corner of the room, someone catches your eye.
Katsuki Bakugo, despite saying earlier he would be leaving, has stuck around for the show it seems. He doesn’t applaud with everyone else, merely watches the two of you until he’s satisfied, then leaves with a toss of his red cape over his shoulder.
You feel sick to your stomach.
Without even giving the applause a chance to die down, you remove your hand from your betrothed’s grasp and curtsey to the onlookers, swiftly dismissing yourself from the stage.
You make your way to the side entrance of the ball room, trying your hardest to maintain your composure at least until you make it outside.
Rushing down the familiar side paths of the palace grounds all the way to your favourite hedge maze, you throw yourself onto the cold stone lip of the fountain that marks its entrance and weep in despair. Before long has passed, Neito and Hitoshi find their places at your side and try to comfort you.
“All I wanted,” you cry to them between hiccups and sobs, “was a taste of freedom before having to give it up completely,” Neito wipes a tear from your cheek, and Hitoshi rubs warm circles on your back.
Your hair, no longer being held back by the ties and pins your mother put in that afternoon, flows freely behind you in the wind. You push the loose strands out of your face furiously, but they continue to stick to your damp cheeks despite your efforts.
The three of you sit, huddled together on the edge of the fountain, and for a moment, you feel peace.
But your father’s voice cuts through it.
“Daughter,”
You pull your face from your hands and look up, barely making out the shape of your mother and father’s figures through your teary vision.
“This reaction is not necessary,” he says firmly.
“Honestly dear, you’re being dramatic,” your mother chimes in, her scolding tone one all too familiar.
“Prince Shoto is a fine young man, like his father,” she suggests, and you almost laugh at the thought. “This marriage benefits us as much as it benefits you, that is why we have blessed it,” she tries to convince you.
His father is a tyrant… you think to yourself.
Everyone knows how Sir Enji absorbed the Kingdom of Ice into his Fire Empire through marriage and took over rule of it with an iron first. You shudder to think of what will happen to you if your betrothed is anything like his dictator father.
“Do you understand how many years of negotiations you almost ruined?” your father interrupts your chain of thought. “Leaving the stage so quickly… You left Prince Shoto standing there alone! That is not something his future bride should do,” he scolds you.
“We’ve spent your whole life preparing you for this day, you knew it would come eventually,” your mother says. “There’s nothing to be done about it now. You accepted the proposal publicly, you cannot come up with excuses to avoid your duty anymore.”
“Excuses to avoid my duty...?” you repeat, a hot rage settling in your veins. Just like always, the three of you are each having a completely different conversation.
“Please, you thought we wouldn’t notice?” your father chimes in. “You’ve weaselled your way out of five marriage proposals already, be grateful you got away with that much. Prince Shoto is handsome, healthy, the same age as you, and the crown prince of a powerful nation we seek to make an ally. There is nothing you can complain about-”
You interrupt him.
"Every time I say no, another stranger is placed in front of me as if the problem is the man instead of the fact that I haven’t been given a chance to live first!” you cut your father off.
“Nonsense! You have lived a finer, more lavish life than most any could dream of!” your mother rebuts. You laugh in her face.
“You would have me spend my whole life preparing to give it away to someone else without letting me live a single day of it for myself? And what? Because I’m a princess, that should be enough for me?” you ask your parents earnestly.
“You know I love this kingdom more than anyone. But how can I sacrifice my agency for a world I’ve yet to see with my own eyes?” you look between your two parents, begging them to stop and listen to you for once.
The three of you seem to have reached a stalemate, each waiting for someone else to break the silence and speak up first. Eventually, your mother lets out a heavy sigh.
“Daughter…” she says calmly as she steps forward, kneeling to get on your level and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ve ruined your hair,” she mumbles, taking more stands between her fingers and twisting them into a bun at the back of your head.
For a brief moment, you’re reminded of when your mother would play with your hair as a child, and you allow yourself to be comforted by her gentle touch.
Finally, you think, I must’ve reached her…
“How are we going to have you come back and apologise now?” she asks, and you quickly realise how mistaken you were.
As she stands and untangles her hands from your unruly locks, a few of your hairs catch in her rings and are pulled out at the root. She turns to her husband, and they begin talking in hushed whispers, trying to figure out how to go about mending the embarrassment you caused earlier when you left.
Blinding rage takes over your body.
You look down, mortified that you got your hopes up for even a moment, and in the corner of your eye, the flash of Hitoshi’s sword, nestled safely at his hip, catches your attention.
In an instant, you reach out, grabbing the blade by its handle and unsheathing it.
“Your Highness! What are you doing!?” Hitoshi yelps out in shock.
Before anyone can react, you take the ends of your hair and hold them in front of you, cutting clean through them with the edge of the sword in one, swift motion.
You let the ends go, and the clumps fall to the ground unceremoniously before you, and your parents.
Your once beautiful, long hair, is now cut short, jagged and uneven.
“You insolent child!” your mother shrieks in horror, her hands covering her mouth agape in shock. Your father looks stunned for a moment, then rage flashes over his face.
He steps forward and pulls his hand back, delivering a swift slap across your cheek. You’re forced to look away from him due to the sheer power of the blow.
“We are done for tonight,” he hisses venomously at you. “Go to your room at once. We will discuss this tomorrow.”
Your father doesn’t wait for you to reply, simply turns away from you and heads back to the hall, dragging your mother behind him by her forearm.