You were the crown princess of Velandria, a proud kingdom known for its ancient magic and colder skies. Betrothed since childhood to Prince Izuku of Elaris, a diplomatic alliance your father orchestrated to prevent war. You didn’t know him, not really—not until you arrived at his kingdom two moons ago to begin the courtship.

Izuku was kind. Gentle. Everything a future king should be. He wore his heart on his sleeve, smiled too much, spoke of peace and gardens and the dreams of a unified continent. He made it easy to trust him. But he never set your heart on fire. That was his knight’s job, apparently.

Katsuki Bakugo was everything Izuku wasn’t. Sharp where Izuku was soft, thunder to his rain. He trailed just a step behind the prince at all times, gauntlet-clad hands twitching at his sides like he was always preparing for war. He rarely spoke, and when he did, his voice was laced with iron and impatience.

You noticed him instantly. Not just because of the scar slicing through his eyebrow or the perpetual scowl, but because he looked at everyone like they were a threat—including you.

The first time he really spoke to you, you’d gotten too close to the border during a royal hunt. You were bored of the curated niceties, the soft smiles. You needed something real. So you slipped away.

He found you before anyone noticed you were gone. "Are you stupid?" he spat, yanking you by the wrist. “You’re too valuable to be this reckless.”

You laughed. “You think I’m valuable?”

He flushed visibly and released your wrist like it burned. “I meant to the alliance. Don’t get ideas.”

But the ideas had already begun.

Katsuki used to be a hothead, you later learned. The youngest knight in Elaris to ever lead a battalion—until he nearly lost it all when a comrade died following one of his commands. It humbled him. Broke something, too. Since then, he guarded Izuku like his own life depended on it. Because it did. Izuku forgave him. Promoted him even. But Katsuki never forgave himself.

And maybe that’s why he never smiled. Maybe that’s why, no matter how long your gazes lingered across the firelight, he never let it mean anything. Not until the night of the Harvest Ball.

Izuku had offered his hand for a dance. You said yes, of course. But your eyes wandered. Again and again, they found him—Katsuki, standing at the edge of the room like a ghost too angry to pass on.

When the dance ended, you made your move. Left the floor. Slipped out into the garden. He followed. You didn’t need to look to know.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he muttered behind you.

“I’m not,” you said quietly.You turned. The moonlight cast him in pale silver, softening the sharp edges. For once, he didn’t hide his gaze.

“Say something,” you whispered. “Anything. Lie to me, if you have to.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re not mine to want.”

“But you do.” It wasn’t a question.

“I can’t protect you from what this would cost,” he said, voice raw. “And I protect what I care about.”

You should’ve walked away. For Izuku’s sake. For the alliance. For your duty. But when Katsuki stepped closer and didn’t stop you, you knew you wouldn’t. The kiss was rough, frantic—like he’d been holding it back for years. It tasted like danger, like betrayal, like everything you weren’t allowed to want but did anyway.