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“Have you gone mad?” Bakugo asked his father.
"We need this union to confirm the peace and allyship between the Kingdoms of Musutafu and Jaku. Your cooperation will prevent a war we cannot afford," his father responded.
Bakugo pursed his mouth into a thin line. “Is there any other way to reason with them? The people of Jaku would understand. We can send an envoy to persuade--”
“Enough,” Bakugo’s father, King Masaru, interrupted coldly. King Masaru then stood as he straightened the tunic beneath his gold and crimson jacket--the colours of Musutafu, as he eyed his son. “You’ve already angered many nobles by rejecting their proposals. You must accept this one. I’ve made many difficult negotiations for this arrangement, and I will not have you mess it up," Masaru said as he looked Bakugo deep in his eyes. “If you refuse, I shall choose a new successor to take my place.”
Bakugo, with his furrowed brows, had crossed his arms as he paid heed to his father’s warning. Masaru was serious this time. His father had already put up with many of his antics, and to think now, Masaru would reject his ascension to have this deal.
Marriage unions were not uncommon and for political reasons, but the Kingdom of Jaku was the most fearsome of the ones he knew. Jaku was full of snakes, the kind of snakes that swallowed flesh and bone, that spread venomous poison with their sharp teeth. Amongst them, courtesans and servants never smiled. All he remembered from his childhood were how cold the castle walls were cold and quiet despite the labyrinth of wide halls. He remembered the royal family had silver hair, but the one that stood out, in particular, was the one with a head of pretty forest-green. Musutafu, on the other hand, was full of lions, the type who fought and protected. And although lions roared, snakes bite, and Bakugo wondered if the prince he was supposed to marry was the one who bit or kept his fangs tucked.
"We shall see," Bakugo answered the King.
...
It was the feast of Bakugo’s twentieth name day.
Kirishima, a knight and one of his best friends, was at his side when he asked, “Is prince Izuku expected to be here?”
“Why should I care?” Bakugo replied.
Kirishima laughed. “Well, he is to be your future husband.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Kirishima chuckled. “You’re planning something, aren't you?”
Bakugo didn’t answer as he drank the wine from his chalice.
“You are,” Kirishima affirmed. “You’re parents will be angry if you cross with them and do anything behind their backs.”
“They’ll get over it,” he replied. Though Bakugo's voice was confident, his expression said otherwise.
“You know Bakugo. You might just like him.”
Bakugo smiled wide and sarcastic, the grin on his face not fading. “I doubt it. Not ever had I taken an interest in anyone in these vast kingdoms. This,” he waved a hand dramatically, “Prince Izuku is no different.”
“Are you sure?” Kirishima said. “He is the son of Toshinori. They say Izuku is talented, fast, a gift from the gods.”
“No one is faster than me, and no one is a god but me,” Bakugo said bluntly.
Kirishima frowned, pitying his friend. Bakugo wasn’t good at being friendly with his companions, and this union meant the fate of their kingdoms if anything went wrong.
...
Izuku had stepped down from his horse's stirrup on the courtyard when Momo had stepped to his side. “It’s so grey and dreary here,” she said.
Izuku let out a gentle laugh. “Don’t be too disappointed, Lady Yaoyorozu. I only came to congratulate the prince on his name day.”
Momo smiled. “You’re not planning to stay longer, to marry your prince?”
“Not interested,” Izuku said.
Momo grinned. She was one of his commanders of the war. He was the brains to the state of affairs, which is why he had her accompany him.
“Get me my cloak,” he commanded.
Momo then went to get his long and onyx cloak. She reached over to place it over his broad shoulders.
“Let’s get this over with,” Izuku said to her, voice hoarse when she finished.
…
The feast was rather dreadful and boring. Bakugo was on his fifth chalice when his presenter announced that Prince Izuku had arrived.
He entered the Great Hall with a female knight in dark armour and chainmail. They were followed by a small party of his strongest warriors, and Bakugo didn’t expect Izuku to look...so different.
He was tall, a little over 6ft, nothing like the small boy he remembered. Izuku was pure rigid muscle. He was built similarly to King Toshinori but not quite as tall and broad. While King Toshinori was a giant, Izuku was more like a stallion, a warhorse. His armour and chainmail were all black, save for the green snake on his sigil. He was obsidian and forest-green.
Izuku had locked eyes with him from across the hall, and Bakugo realized that he’d been staring.
He quickly composed himself and cleared his throat as Izuku approached the main feasting table. His black cloak had blown with every step he took, and he walked such grace that it made Bakugo feel unsteady. Izuku had the presence and means of a future king.
Prince Izuku bowed in front of Bakugo; a grin bloomed on his face.
Bakugo bowed his head in return, a greeting from one prince to another.
One crimson and gold, another onyx and green.
“Happy name day,” Izuku said.
“You have my gratitude,” Bakugo responded.
Izuku smiled, and it stayed and lingered, making Bakugo feel flustered and uneasy, though he didn’t show it. Izuku then turned to join the party, and Bakugo was left alone, watching his silhouette blend with the knights.
Surprisingly, the festivity was no longer a bore.
The knights of Jaku had given his guests life by breaking the ice. There was dancing, eating, and entertainment. It surprised him that Prince Izuku had been the one to bring it to life. Izuku had removed his armour and rolled the sleeves of his tunic. He spoke to guests of lower rank and treated them as his equals. He acted...unlike what the people of Musutafu painted him to be like. It made him uneasy.
When the celebration ended and the guests retired to their chambers, Bakugo walked down the Great Hall when Prince Izuku ambushed him by a pillar.
“Are you mad?” Bakugo asked, slightly startled.
Izuku carelessly swung the chalice he had in his hand as he took a sip. “I’m quite the opposite,” he said; his mouth was rose-coloured, kissed by the wine.
“Go to your chambers,” Bakugo said. “You smell like stale bread.”
Izuku laughed, a hoarse chuckle escaping from his throat. “Not if you come with me.”
Bakugo gritted his teeth. “Go to hell.”
Izuku then straightened his body by Bakugo's rejection. His expression then hardened and sobered, and that careless expression he wore before faded. What stood before Bakugo was the prince he’s heard about, the cold and rigid snake.
“It seems you are cross with me,” Izuku said to him.
“Don’t take it personally,” Bakugo replied.
“Well, perhaps, I should since I came with the full intent NOT to marry you or accept the proposal. But seeing as how you take no interest in the union either, I feel I am obliged to ask why?”
Bakugo laughed. “You’re not someone I...fancy if you care so much to know.”
“I don’t.”
“Seems like you do,” Bakugo replied vehemently.
Izuku gritted his teeth. He took a few steps forward, his chartreuse eyes challenging Bakugo. His eyes then travelled to Bakugo's nose, then to his mouth, daring himself to make another move but not quite making it. Izuku then smiled venomously before he bowed slightly to him. “I look forward to our wedding ceremony.”
“Pardon--”
Izuku quickly sauntered away from Bakugo as he spat curses at him and yelled, “Like hell, I’d marry you!”
“See you then!” Izuku shouted before he disappeared down the corridor.