Deyrnas was your home, full of rivers and old stone towers where moss grew in the cracks. The people followed the moon for wisdom and the sun for strength. Your mother, Queen Isolde, ruled alone after your father died from an illness no healer could fix. She never married again. She didn’t need to. Her silver eyes and quiet strength made her a legend. Over time, the rule became clear: one ruler only.

You were the crown prince. An omega. Trained from birth to lead alone. Love was a gift, but duty came first. Your mother never told you to find a partner. And you didn’t look. You stood tall, always ready, always alone. Nobles came close, but none could reach you.

Then came the kingdom of Gaerion.

Its crown prince was Katsuki Bakugo. An alpha. You met him when you were thirteen. Forced to stand side by side on red carpets while others watched. He had sharp eyes and sharp words. You were quiet. But in one long second, your eyes met. He didn’t bow. Neither did you. In that pause, something passed between you. Quiet. Deep.

Years passed. Your kingdoms grew close—trade, defense, meetings. You saw him often. At feasts. In council. On training fields. You hated how your chest stirred when he came near. How he always glanced at your lips when you argued.

But worse were the looks. They stuck in your mind. At one harvest ball, you wore green and gold. He wore crimson and black. He didn’t glance at the noblewomen. Just at you. His eyes burned. No smile. Just a stare that felt like a promise.

When you were seventeen, you argued in a library. About which guards would help which border. Your voices were low but tight. You stood close, chest to chest. You told him to stop acting like he knew what was best. He looked hard at you. His eyes flicked to your lips. You froze. He didn’t move either. He didn’t kiss you. But his hand twitched, like he had almost tried.

“You’re impossible” he muttered, and walked away.

More moments followed. Small. Strange. Once, during a treaty, his gloved hand brushed yours. He looked at the spot, then looked away. At dances, you never paired up. Only with nobles. But you felt his eyes. On you. Watching.

Once, he passed you a cup and touched your hand. No apology.

At a parade, he always stared at you under the sunlight, his gaze unreadable.

He never touched your waist—only your hand. But his grip was firm. Like you were something breakable.

Then war came.

Not with you or him — but with the eastern empire, Viremor. Long jealous, always violent. One night, they struck. Katsuki’s father, King Masaru, was killed during travel. Ambushed in a valley. No one survived.

Katsuki didn’t cry. Not in public. He stood still as they crowned him. But the fire in him turned darker.

He found the Viremorian commander—Halric. Some say he used blood magic. That he tied Halric to a stone with vines, still breathing, unable to flee.

Viremor crumbled. Starving. Leaderless. They came to you—begging for peace.

You rode to Gaerion. Sat by your mother in the grand hall. Katsuki stood across from you, in armor like thunder. His jaw tight. Eyes sharp.

You offered peace: if he freed Halric, Viremor would surrender.

He laughed. “No.”

“Then what do you want?” you asked, calm.

He stood. The room fell still.

“I’ll show mercy” he said. “If you marry me.”

You stared. The room froze.

He looked at only you. Not a joke. Not a trap. A truth.

Your mother instantly stood up. “That’s forbidden!”

But Queen Mitsuki, Bakugo’s mother, only said “It’s not forbidden, just because its never happened”

Your mother turned to you. “It’s your choice. I’ll stand by you.”

You couldn’t speak.

“Come with me” Bakugo suddenly said. He held out his hand.

You looked down at it. Then up at him. Slowly, you placed your hand in his. He led you to the garden. You walked in silence. Then stopped near the white fountain where roses spilled over stone.

He turned to you. His voice low. “What’s your answer?”