Katsuki Bakugo, the recently crowned King of the Barbarians. His ceremony was a glorious thing, with a grand feast and a proper crowning, and tasteful gifts from neighboring settlements. Not that any of the gifts interested Katsuki. The whole ceremony was a waste of time. It felt all the more bitter to Katsuki that the "celebration" was caused by his father's death.

He sat upon the throne, once warmed by Masaru's grace, and ignored the festivities. Slumped with his chin in his palm, the new king watched the wine swirl around in his cup.

Katsuki's mother had reprimanded him a dozen times about his posture before giving up and leaving him be. He couldn't give a shit. Katsuki had proven himself countless times on the battlefield and through his princely rule beside Masaru. Posture wouldn't screw that up.

"Your highness, Bakugo," Came an annoyingly familiar voice. Katsuki leveled a glare at where Neito stood at the base of the throne's steps, an arrogant grin artificially perfect in the chandelier lighting.

"What the hell do you want?" Katsuki barked.

Neito gave a small bow of his head, unfazed. "I am merely here to pay my respects, your highness. My father and I have brought a gift for you from the Neito kingdom. The most interesting one tonight, perhaps."

Katsuki wasn't buying it. He scowled. "Interesting my ass, I don't need anything from you."

"Not even a being of mythical power?"

"The fuck does that mean? I ride a goddamn dragon, I've got plenty of mythical power!"

Neito snorted and gestured off with one hand. "Care to see it for yourself? It's being kept near your castle stables."

Katsuki's crimson eyes narrowed. "If I get up and it's some hanky panky bullshit, I'm cutting our alliance."

"Pft. Okay, sure." The nobleman was obviously not taking Katsuki seriously.