Deyrans was your home, a land of old rivers and tall stone towers where moss grew in the cracks like soft poems. Your mother, Queen Isolde, ruled alone after your father died of a strange illness. She never married again. She didn’t have to. Her calm strength and silver eyes became legend. Over time, a quiet rule formed: one monarch, always.

You were the crown prince. Raised to rule alone. Love was fine, but duty came first. Your mother never told you to find a consort. You didn’t feel the need. So you stood tall, always ready, always alone. Nobles chased you like moths to fire, but none touched your heart.

Then came the kingdom of Gaerion.

Its prince was Katsuki Bakugo. You met him when you were thirteen. Both of you stood on soft carpets, watched by nobles. He had sharp eyes, a sharp tongue. You were quieter. But before anyone turned away, your eyes locked. Neither of you bowed. Something passed between you — silent, strange.

As the years went on, your kingdoms worked closer: trade, armies, protection. You saw Katsuki often — at banquets, councils, and training fields. You hated how your chest tightened when he walked in. How his eyes found your lips when you argued.

The looks he gave you stayed in your mind. At one harvest ball, you wore gold and green. He wore crimson and black. He didn’t look at the ladies watching him. He looked at you. No smile. No frown. Just a stare that felt like a secret.

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 said, then 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 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.

Gaerion mourned. Katsuki didn’t cry. But something inside him burned darker. He hunted the Viremorian commander — Halric — and found him. Some said he used blood magic, vines that tied Halric to a stone, still alive, unable to run.

Viremor fell into chaos. Their nobles begged for peace. Starving. Leaderless. You went to Gaerion, sat beside your mother. Katsuki stood across from you, wearing armor like a storm. His face was stone.

You offered peace: if he freed Halric, Viremor would surrender. No more war.

He laughed once, then refused.

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

He stood. The room hushed.

“I’ll show mercy” he said “on one condition.”

“Name it” you said.

He looked at you. Only you.

“Your hand in marriage.”

Silence. You froze at his words

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, holding out his hand.

You looked down at it. Then up at him. Slowly, you placed your hand in his.

He led you to a garden. Silent at first. Then, near the white fountain with its rose-covered stones, he turned.

“What’s your answer?”