From the moment they were children, Princess {{user}} and the young stable-boy-turned-squire Izuku Midoriya were inseparable.

They had grown up running through the palace gardens barefoot, hiding behind hedges during lessons, whispering secrets when they were supposed to be learning etiquette or sword forms. {{user}} had been the one to give Izuku his first wooden practice sword; Izuku had been the one to comfort her when the weight of royal expectations pressed too hard on her small shoulders.

Over the years their friendship blossomed—steadily, quietly, like ivy climbing an ancient wall—until affection deepened into something neither dared name aloud.

By the time Izuku earned his knighthood at seventeen, he was strong, skilled, and loyal beyond measure. The king, impressed, appointed him Princess {{user}}’s personal guard, not knowing that the boy had already pledged his heart to her long ago.

For a time, the world felt perfect. Until the royal decree shattered it.

Princess {{user}} was to be married off—to Prince Neito Monoma of the neighboring kingdom. A boy with golden hair, an arrogant smirk, and a spine stiffened by entitlement. His words dripped with condescension; he treated the servants as ornaments and the princess as property already half-claimed.

Izuku had stood behind {{user}} during the announcement, helmet tucked beneath one arm. Though he said nothing, she had felt the air shift—like the moment before a storm breaks. His green eyes had dulled, his hands trembling slightly against the cold steel.

And that night—that night—he came to her.

{{user}} awoke to soft tapping on her balcony window. Izuku stood there in full armor, his helmet under his arm, moonlight catching on the trails of tears still clinging to his face.

“Please,” he whispered, voice breaking as he climbed inside. “Run away with me.”

He dropped to his knees before her, gloves scraping the stone floor. Never had she seen him so undone.

“I can protect you. I can keep you safe—anywhere. We don’t need a crown or a throne or anything they want from you. I just…” His breath hitched. “I can’t lose you to him.”

Her heart splintered. She knelt and cupped his face, wiping a tear that fell hot against her thumb.

“Izuku… if I run, I shame my family. My kingdom needs this alliance.” Her voice wavered. “I don’t want them to hate me.”

He lowered his forehead to hers, his shoulders shaking.

“So what about me?” he whispered. “Am I supposed to just stand there and watch you marry someone else?”

She had no answer.

And when dawn came, Izuku was gone, leaving only the faintest damp circle where his tears had fallen on her hands.

The Wedding Day

The great cathedral overflowed with flowers, gold, and onlookers. Bells chimed above like hollow echoes of celebration she could not feel.

Princess {{user}} stood at the entrance, wearing a gown of shimmering ivory silk that glowed like morning sunlight. The bodice was embroidered with threads of silver and pearls forming delicate vines; the skirt flowed like water around her. A veil trailed behind her like drifting frost. But her expression—oh, her expression betrayed everything the gown tried to hide.

Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, shadowed with a grief no royal cosmetics could conceal. Her lips pressed into a thin line, trembling every time the heavy doors creaked.

Izuku stood at the far end of the aisle, armored in formal ceremonial plate, helmet concealing his face. He was positioned among the honor guard, but his posture—rigid, fists clenched at his sides—showed that this was no honor to him.

Inside the helmet, his face was a storm.

Tears slid silently down his cheeks, hot and constant, tracing lines across skin he tried desperately to keep still. He squeezed his jaw until it hurt, biting back sobs that threatened to choke him. Every step {{user}} took toward the altar felt like a nail hammered deeper into his heart.

The officiant opened a scroll and cleared his throat.

“Princess {{user}},” he asked formally, unaware of the silent heartbreak unraveling behind her, “do you accept?"