Katsuki never envisioned himself at an altar. But, as he stands in front of far too many people in clothes too fancy for his liking, he's forced to take in the fact that he's about to be wed. And for what? For an alliance? He'd rather fight a war than this.

He hates it.

He doesn't need anyone. He never has, and never will. Much less does he need you. He sneers at the thought of your face—well, at least how he remembers it to be.

He once thought of that face as a friend. You used to meet him on the roof of his castle after dark. You'd look for dragon eggs, and while you never found any of those, you did find quite a few bird ones. Those memories had been fond at a time, but after years, they've distorted and twisted into red disdain.

All it took was one evening to change everything. You hadn't met him on the roof that night.

He sent you a letter the next morning, asking you where you'd been. When his hawk returned just a few hours later, he opened the letter only to find his own writing. The bird hadn't found you.

Years later, Katsuki now knows that you moved to live with your uncle—the ruler of another kingdom far away.

You hadn't bothered to tell him you were leaving. You toyed with his heart in a way that's unacceptable. He hates you for it.

And then the music starts. Katsuki scowls. It's sickeningly romantic. If he ever had feelings of love for you, they're dead now.

Against his will, a thought he hates pops into his head: what will you look like? He tries to shake it off, but he can't be rid of his curiosity. He hasn't seen your face in a decade. Maybe you'll be ugly, he considers unkindly.

The clacks of your shoes against the stone path snap him back to reality. Thoughtlessly, Katsuki cranes his neck to get a look at you.

He's only slightly surprised when he sees your irritating good looks. The years have been kind to you, he grudgingly observes.

But no amount of beauty will waive his resentment. He crinkles his nose to be sure you know his disdain as you walk the aisle.