Chapter Text
two years prior to the weddings
It's a beautiful day. The sun alternates between hiding behind snow white clouds and shining directly on the crowd, warming them up. There's a light breeze, carrying the fresh scent of salt from the ocean. It's a perfect day for this tournament. Everyone's so goddamn fucking pleased and joyous, munching on sweet bread and sipping light wine. Katsuki wants nothing more than to murder a bitch.
He has trained for this. He worked his fucking ass off for months. Archery, swordfighting and, as much as he hates it, horseback riding. Katsuki fucking trained, because he is the soon-to-be Barbarian King (two more years until the title is his. Two more years until Todoroki is his, whether they like it or not) and he does not lose. Not to anyone, and certainly not to brats three years younger than him.
And Katsuki's still getting his ass served to him on a silver platter, god fucking damn it. It's only the first competition, sure, and archery really isn't his best suit but he fucking trained and he got better and-
Todoroki hits the bullseye. Again. Splitting his own previous arrow, no less. The goddamn prodigy. The crowd is silent for a single moment, then roars in a way they never have for Katsuki.
The tournament is being held on the palace grounds, and the spectators are all stuffy nobility and whoever else was lucky enough to be invited. Naturally they wouldn't cheer as hard for Katsuki, he's not their precious fucking prince. The tournament is theirs, the Flatlanders tradition, not a barbarian one.
The crowd dies down, and it's Katsuki's turn again. Who’s idea was it to place Katsuki right after Todoroki, out of over a dozen competitors? So fucking stupid. The pressure goes up significantly because as annoying as it is to admit, Todoroki is good. Meaning Katsuki has to follow one hell of a show. Every time. For the entire five rounds.
He breathes, air filling his lungs, and aims. He can do this. He was so fucking close to the tiny red dot last round. Just out of the circle. If he can get this one, he's back in the game. He pulls back the bowstring, hands steady, and releases. It whooshes through the air audibly and connects with the target.
Dead center.
Fuck yes.
Katsuki pumps his fist in the air and turns to look at Todoroki. He's not looking back, only his elegant side profile visible as he ignores Katsuki. Stuck up bastard. Whatever.
There are customary claps from the crowd, with the exception of cheering and hollering from his embarrassing parents and all their band of barbarian folk who tagged along for the trip. Fucking extras. How's it going to look if he loses the next, final round?
Todoroki has been so precise with his shots that even if Katsuki splits his own arrow by some miracle like Todoroki had, it'll still be a tie. And that pisses him off even more, like he lacks reasons to be angry.
Katsuki thinks back on the day they arrived, and Todoroki was suddenly taller than him. He’s been ticked off since that moment. Last year's visit was canceled due to an especially bad weather that flooded large parts of the main roads, so they haven't seen each other for two blessed, blissful years. Todoroki was sixteen then, and still a hair shorter than Katsuki himself. If Katsuki knew this would happen and had a choice in the matter, he'd rather see Todoroki and keep him fucking shorter. But no. The kid had to go and hit a growth spurt.
(Is Todoroki a kid, though? Katsuki isn’t so sure of that anymore. He’s not only taller now, but carries himself differently, especially around Katsuki. An air of quiet confidence about him that was never there before. The changes are subtle, but piled up they’re more than enough to make Katsuki wonder when the fuck did that happen?)
Whatever. Katsuki is still bigger in every way that matters. He's been working out a lot on top of training for the tournament, and it's not like he's ever been particularly small, but he really is reaching his prime. Even Eijiro said so.
"So manly!"
Katsuki snorts to himself. Nobody hypes Katsuki up quite like his ridiculous best friend.
The crowd goes batshit wild once more and Katsuki crashes back to reality, annoyed with himself for getting distracted long enough for a whole round to pass, especially when the distraction was thinking about Todoroki, who isn’t worth his thoughts and energy.
Already unsettled by the loud cheers and suspecting another perfect hit, he looks at Todoroki’s target, and-
Double fuck.
Todoroki split his second arrow in a row, splinters laying neatly on the freshly cut grass. It's really fucking impressive, actually. Katsuki's blood boils. He wants to strangle someone, preferably Todoroki himself, who just glanced at him all smug with his expressionless fucking face. Asshole.
Katsuki’s last shot at this. Come on, you can do this. Split this motherfucking arrow and make it a tie. Still have a chance, since somehow, Todoroki missed the target entirely on the first round. Don’t let the smug bastard have an early lead.
With a deep breath, Katsuki grabs an arrow, holds it to the bow, and draws. The shot is going to have to be both accurate and strong enough to split the previous all the way, so he makes sure to draw it real nice and tight and-
Snap.
There are gasps and murmurs all around while Katsuki stands there, fighting down the heat creeping to his face. He broke his bow. He broke his bow. It’s not the first time it happened, not by a long shot, but he thought he was over the phase where he misjudged the strength of the bow, held on too tight.
The best craftsmen made him an especially durable bow, just for him. Tough enough that he could still use his full draw strength without worrying about snapping it like a twig. No one but him has enough strength to hold it up for long, let alone draw it. And still, it snapped. God fucking damn it.
He doesn’t have a spare, which means he’ll have to use whatever’s available, probably, if they don’t rule Todoroki’s win on the spot. Speaking of Todoroki... Katsuki risks a glance, only to find the kid staring at him, eyes as dead and unreadable as ever. Ugh.
Gritting his teeth, Katsuki waits for the verdict: He’s allowed another shot should he manage to procure a new bow. He’ll be allowed a few practice rounds to get used to it too, in fairness sake. Feels like charity, oh, let’s give the barbarian extra help. But he’ll fucking take it.
Upon being asked to give up their bow, everyone suddenly finds an interesting spot in the sky or on the grass to look at. Everyone but one.
"You can have mine, Bakugou." Todoroki holds out his bow and quiver.
As much as Katsuki wants to refuse, he doesn’t have much of a fucking choice if he doesn’t want an automatic loss.
It’s a long one, longer than Katsuki’s own, fit for Todoroki’s freakishly long arms. It’s surprisingly light, but seems durable enough, if he’s fucking careful.
The first try falls short. Fuck. He was too careful not to snap this one as well. Katsuki doesn’t let that deter him. Aiming slightly higher and drawing back with more strength, Katsuki manages to hit this time. The orange, middle circle. Closer to yellow than red, though. Fuck. The second and third hit yellow. Double fuck. And then, by some stroke of fate, the fifth goes right in the middle, hitting the arrow still stuck there and... Falling to the ground. Not enough strength, god fucking damn it.
Someone laughs from his left, from the royal families' stands, but by the time Katsuki turns to glare, everyone is straight faced and serious looking. He’d bet good money it’s Todoroki’s asshole older brother.
And that’s it. Time to show them what he can fucking do, even with an unfamilair bow.
Katsuki clears his mind much like Jeanist taught him. Adjusts his feet so they’re aligned with the target. Three fingers over, thumb on the other side. Zero in on the tiny red circle. Breathe. Release. The arrow cuts through air and thuds against the dyed wood 150 feet away. It’s red, almost orange. Nowhere near splitting the previous.
Fuck.
He lost.
Katsuki throws the bow in disgust at Todoroki’s feet, then stomps over to his team.
"Second place! You’re amazing, Kacchan!" Fucking Deku dares tell him.
"Fuck off." Katsuki hisses, and for once Deku has enough wit in him to shut up.
Horseback riding doesn’t go much better.
Katsuki never liked horses much. They’re faster than walking, sure, but they’re unpredictable and he’s heard enough horror stories of riders being thrown off their backs and suffering long term damage. Sure, most of those stories were told to him during his childhood by none other than Touya himself, the Todoroki’s first born. They still instilled an inherent fear of horses in him that was hard to shake even in years of occasionally having to ride a horse and not even in months of intensive training.
At least this time his act didn’t follow Todoroki’s, who was, of course, fucking flawless, sitting high and straight backed on his elegant horse, parading around the obstacles like he was born for it. Which he kind of was.
Katsuki ended up seething in the third spot. Some comfort brought the fact Todoroki didn’t take the first either. It was some fucker named Koji Koda. Apparently he was some sort of horse whisperer or something. Incredibly good with them. Good for him.
Katsuki knows, logically, that he can’t beat Todoroki at his own game, in his own playground. Todoroki has been trained in all of those skills for years and years, and has been in multiple competitions.
And yeah, Katsuki didn’t have to do it. In fact, he wasn’t even invited to compete, which pissed him off over the years so badly that he sent a messenger half a year ago to declare that he will, in fact, be competing. How hard can it be, mastering two measly skills in half a year? He already had swordfighting down, was familiar with the basics of archery, and knew his way around horses better than he’d have liked.
So yeah. Logically, he knows that taking third place after training for half a year isn’t bad at all, even kind of good. But fuck if he didn’t want to make everyone, Todoroki included, gape while he takes the win in every single stupid competition.
Swordfighting, the final competition held the next day, was both great and awful.
With a total of sixteen fighters and fourteen fights before the main showdown, it takes out a good chunk of the day. They set it up, on purpose, so that Todoroki and Katsuki will only fight should they both come out on top in all three of their previous fights.
Katsuki wins the two first rounds with brute force alone. His competitors are weak, smaller, and clearly scared of him. Low morale is their end. The semi final fight is decent. Fun even. He gets to play around with his opponent, a dark haired young lady called Momo Yaoyorozu, for a good five minutes before they get serious.
Once they do, Katsuki shows no mercy. He never once pitied a girl or gave her an easy time just for being one, unlike many other men he knew. If that made him an ass, so be it. He has never seen any of them as weak, frail creatures deserving of special treatment. He did grow up with a fierce queen for a mother, after all. With such a role model, who can blame him for never underestimating a woman?
It’s another grueling few minutes of clanking metal and increasingly labored breathing before he stands over her, sword to her throat, grinning victoriously.
Katsuki is dying to see Todoroki’s reaction, but the fucker is nowhere to be seen. Maybe resting and preparing for the final, which will happen in about an hour. Still, fuck him. It’s basic decency to watch these fights, even (or maybe especially) as a competitor.
An hour later, he and Todoroki stand across from each other in the arena, estimating.
They’ve seen the other fight. Hell, they’ve fucking trained together when they were younger. Not a lot, but every bit of information or experience could tilt a battle to the right direction. Katsuki’s direction.
Katsuki uses one hand to casually hold his massive sword, rolling his wrist so it rotates through the air with a faint whoosh. Just a little something for show, because he’s fucking good with it and by now, everyone’s aware.
"Start!" The ringmaster, a woman in a leather outfit accentuating her huge tits, bellows.
Todoroki stands there, relaxed and open while Katsuki charges right at him. The faster he can end this, the clearer his win will be, the better. Todoroki already beat him twice if you count horseback riding. Katsuki wants to crush him for this one, and he’s going to fucking do it.
At the very last moment, Todoroki raises his sword to block Katsuki’s blow, using both hands to hold the hilt.
Wait. Two? Since when does he wield a longsword? Closer now, Katsuki can see that it’s not even his goddamn sword. Well, it clearly fucking is, but it’s not the one he wielded in previous rounds. This one is slimmer and has a dull, dark gray blade. Dragonsteel.
Katsuki’s heart lurches to his throat. Fuck.
If he isn’t careful, his own blade could be chipped or snapped. Dragonsteel is durable as fuck, and as a blade it can be sharpened beyond regular steel. It’s also incredibly rare and expensive. How the fuck did they gather enough of it to make a fucking sword? Did the Todoroki's always have one hidden away? Most importantly, why the fuck wasn't Todoroki using it in his previous matches? While not against the rules, using a different sword (especially one made out of fucking dragonsteel) to blindside Katsuki feels like a cheap trick. God, that infuriates him.
Katsuki quickly deflects, using a good amount of strength and jumping back to put some distance between them. He needs a moment to recalculate, but Todoroki won’t give him that. Katsuki really can’t fault him for it.
Alright, fine. So what if Todoroki’s sword is fucking dragonsteel? Katsuki still has a much bigger, heavier blade that he can easily swing around. That packs a huge punch. All he has to do is make sure it collides with Todoroki’s blade at an angle and not head on. Easy peasy.
Katsuki hops back again in order to add a second hand to the hilt and wield it with both. He prefers just the one for the flexibility it allows, but he’d have better control this way, as well as the added strength behind it.
They exchange a few quick blows, left, right, block from below while Katsuki’s blood warms up and he gets used to this new style of fighting he has to adapt to.
Katsuki makes himself forget his anger, put it aside for now. It’s nothing but a distraction at the moment. What he needs is tranquility. Jeanist’s voice whispers in his ear, calm, boy. You’re an ocean, but you control the wind.
But being a calm ocean on the inside, doesn’t mean he has to appear like one. The thought occurs to him right as Todoroki parries one of his blows and nearly gets him. Katsuki ducks at the last minute and when he comes back up it’s with a vicious grin.
"Is that all you got, princess?" Katsuki calls, loud enough for the closer audience to hear and gasp at. He’ll be reprimanded by Mitsuki for it later, no doubt, but it’ll be worth it if he can agitate Todoroki enough to lose his usual indifferent serenity. Worst case, it does nothing. Best case, he makes some mistake and Katsuki comes up victorious.
Todoroki purses his lips, silent.
They stalk around in a circle, re-estimating. It’s Todoroki who charges this time, with a stupid head-on blow that can’t be anything but a decoy. Todoroki is fast, he can surely change trajectories at the last second to surprise Katsuki.
Blood thumping in his ears, Katsuki stays vigilant. If he didn’t underestimate whatshername, he won’t underestimate the prince either. He’s proven right. Todoroki does change his aim and it is fast. Katsuki barely manages to block it right without the sharp edge clashing to his sword and potentially chipping it.
"Lame." Katsuki drawls. "Super lame attack. Who even taught you that? You look like a child playing knight."
Todoroki stays undisturbed. On the surface, anyway. Who knows what’s going on through that bastardous head of his.
They exchange more quick blows, kicking up sand and dust into the air. Blood sings in Katsuki’s veins, a drumming of joy and bloodlust. He lands a few consecutive ones just right, forcing Todoroki back. But then Todoroki comes up with a complicated move that Katsuki has never seen, and in a second they’re locked, swords crossed, in a battle of strength. Katsuki smirks. Between the two of them, he clearly has the upper hand. "Stupid move, princess."
Too quiet for anyone else to hear, Todoroki says, "Is it, savage?" The last word is spat out, venomous. His eyes are on fire, scathing hot. Something lurks in their depths, some too-early satisfaction, like he knows something Katsuki doesn’t. Katsuki doesn’t like that expression one bit.
Somehow, Todoroki manages to twist the sword in his hand, making it so the sharp edge is angled right against Katsuki’s.
There’s a crack-crack-crack, and to his horror, Todoroki’s sword is slicing upwards through his own thick blade. The more power Katsuki puts behind it, the quicker it happens. Shitshitshitshit- Calmcalmcalmcalm-
Pulling back won’t help. His sword is about to snap as it is, and even if the sudden movement won’t do it, the next blow will. The rules. What are the goddamn official rules? Right. Disarm, or hold a blade to their throat. The latter is beyond him, but if he can just-
Katsuki puts all his weight into swinging downward, sudden and powerful, quickening the process of his own sword being cut. But, if it’s powerful enough and his sword holds...
The dragonsteel, stuck deep inside his sword, goes down with it, torn out of Todoroki’s hands. Technically, now, Katsuki is still holding a blade, even if that blade is almost broken and has another blade stuck in it. And Todoroki isn’t holding anything.
The prince looks down at his hands, now empty, then back up at Katsuki, and oh, how sweet is that dumbfounded expression on his pretty face. It suits him so well, looking this fucking stupid. Todoroki’s expression is the only victory Katsuki feels, however. His sword is nearly sliced in fucking half. Doesn’t feel like that much of a win to him, not with how close of a call it was.
"It was a stupid move after all, princess." Katsuki says quietly, to Todoroki’s ears alone.
The crowd is dead silent. Then a clap. And another. Until the air is filled with thunderous applause, cheering and chanting. If nothing else, that must’ve been one hell of a show. The ringmaster is barely heard over the deafening crowd when she needlessly pronounces him victorious.
Much later, before the banquet, when Todoroki slips into his room, Katsuki bumps their shoulders roughly on his way out. All the anger he felt at the dirty trick of showing up with the dragonsteel sword bubbling to the surface. He’s tired, though, and hungry, and drained of fight for once after the long day of dueling. So he sends Todoroki a nasty glare, the kind that makes the prince recoil and give up whatever it is he came here to do, and goes to eat his fucking dinner.
__________
one week prior to the flatlanders wedding
As they approach Azule, the capital of the Flat Lands and residency place of the royal family, the Todorokis, the main road becomes less silent and more bustling. The surrounding area less green and more gray, less wild and more populated (or as betrothed, Todoroki Shouto likes to condescendingly call it, civilized).
It objectively sucks. Katsuki much prefers his own city, Heart of the Wild Lands, over whatever bullshit these "civilized" people have going on, with their cramped cities and gray stone houses.
Heart, their capital, is built into nature, in harmony just like any other barbarian settlement. The Flatlanders have, at best, tamed nature and at worst demolished it in favor of their ugly, tall buildings.
When he was younger, Katsuki used to love coming here. It was an adventure, a new place to explore and conquer. That was before he developed critical thinking, or before Todoroki grew up to be a little fucking bitch.
Speaking of the man himself, Katsuki can see the royal entourage waiting for them at the gates, and if he really squints, he can spot split red and white hair sitting on top of an especially stupid head.
Probably sensing his agitation, or perhaps just reading his permanent scowl as an unusual one, Mitsuki, his mother, kicks him from her horse.
"The fuck was that for?" Katsuki asks, affronted.
"Chill, Katsuki. You’re not here to murder anyone. We’re here for your wedding, for fuck’s sake." She hisses, needlessly quiet. Their horses slowed down to a trot, so they have a couple of minutes ahead of them until they’re within earshot.
"Yeah, so? That’s the reason to be a bitch."
To his right, his father Masaru snorts, then clears his throat once Mitsuki gives him one of her deadly looks.
"You will behave, as we have agreed upon. I’m letting you lead the great summer hunt this year, and that will only happen once you and Todoroki Shouto are married in both our lands. So don’t. Fuck. This. Up. You hear me, brat? This wedding is twenty years in the making. I will not have you embarrass us all with your petty bullshit."
Katsuki grits his teeth, sour. He knows, alright? He fucking knows. He’s made his peace with it long ago. It’s his destiny or some shit. The reason for both their kingdoms cooperating and thriving for the past two decades, the reason trade is going smoothly between the Steep Lands and Flat Lands through the Wild Lands and out to sea, and vice versa.
Before the union was promised and the main road was built, the two kingdoms weren’t on the best of terms. The seal on the promise of future peace and prosperity is his wedding to the prince. The only Todoroki who wasn’t promised to other nobles or lands, anyway. The Todoroki’s really do like to whore out their spawns, don’t they?
The entire wedding, their marriage, it’s only for show and officiality. They’ll be married in name, but really, it’s not like anyone expects them to procreate, being men. They won’t even be living together after both weddings, each will be in his own land, his own city, managing their own kingdom.
In name only, Katsuki reminds himself. That makes marrying Todoroki fucking Shouto slightly more tolerable. Slightly.
"Almost there." Mitsuki sends him one last warning look.
Katsuki takes a deep breath and relaxes his face into something more presentable. He’s no longer that angry, spiteful kid. He’s now an angry, spiteful adult, and he will act like one.
"The Bakugou family!" Todoroki Enji calls. "Welcome!"
God that man is a giant. He dwarfs everyone around him, and Katsuki has never liked that. Katsuki is lucky the prince didn’t grow up to be this giant. His ego would not be able to handle that, not in its current state.
Mitsuki smiles wide as she hops off her horse. She looks tiny next to him, but has the same energy of a long time monarch, used to being in charge and in power.
Katsuki follows. They exchange formal greetings which include some bullshit phrases and bows, Katsuki’s least favorite part. The barbarians do not bow. Beside for other fucking royals, apparently. If his mom can do it, so can he.
He and Todoroki are aligned so they’re bowing to each other, and boy is Katsuki glad they’re doing it at the same time, so Todoroki doesn’t have the opportunity to see him lower his head, even if the respect is fake. When they look back at each other, the prince is as stone faced as ever. Expressionless. Creepily so, at times. Like his eyes are dead, or perhaps what’s behind them that’s dead. The only time Katsuki saw any passion in them in the last few years was at the tournament two years ago, when they dueled.
After the greetings, they’re asked about the weather and the state of the roads these days, making teeny tiny, insignificant small talk while walking past the gates and into the city, towards the carriages (ridiculous and redundant. They could’ve rode over there on horses just fine, and that’s coming from someone who despises the creatures). Their horses are, of course, being tended to by the royal stable boys with sticks up their asses. Everyone’s so formal, so polite over here. Makes Katsuki’s skin crawl.
Pleasantries exchanged, it’s time for everyone to ride said carriages from the gates to the royal palace, which is just a glorified gray castle, really. Not that impressive, kind of ugly even, blocking the view up there on that tall hill.
And of fucking course he’s stuck with Todoroki Shouto, no one else with them. He didn’t expect otherwise in any way. They haven’t seen each other since last year, when Todoroki cut his visit short. Disappeared half a week before he was supposed to head back, no explanation, no note, nothing. Rude, but not like Katsuki was complaining.
A month later, an official apology letter arrived, detailing that he was feeling unwell and had to be treated by the royal doctor, who has known him since he was a baby. Bullshit, if you ask Katsuki, but again, what fucking ever.
He and Todoroki sit across from each other, both their arms crossed over their chests. Katsuki’s legs are spread wide, while Todoroki’s are crossed, one knee over the other.
"Must you take up so much space?" Todoroki breaks the silence with a stupid fucking question, as usual. Nothing has changed. Not his stupid hair, not his stupid overly pretty face, not his stupid slow way of speaking.
"I’m just sitting here." Katsuki shrugs, keeping his voice level. Behave, his mom’s voice rings in his mind.
Todoroki hums. If it’s truly bothering him, he isn’t giving much to indicate it. The only feasible explanation is that Todoroki is only doing this to irk Katsuki. But what else is new? It’s like he was born to annoy him.
"You’re doing this on purpose." Todoroki blames.
"You’re doing this on purpose." Katsuki mimics, mocking.
"Doing what, precisely?"
Katsuki tightens his arms on his chest, bare biceps squishing and bulging. "I’m not playing this game with you."
Todoroki has the audacity to look confused. "What game?"
"Stop answering with more questions!"
"It’s called a conversation, Bakugou."
Condescending motherfucker. Katsuki is going to kill him and make it look like an accident. He realizes his jaw is clenched so tight he probably popped a vein in his forehead, and forces his face to relax once more. This is the effect Todoroki has on him. Instantly irate. "Look, it’s not my fault I’m a big guy, alright? I take up space. Deal."
"I’m taller than you, and I don’t take up nearly as much."
Any excuse to rub it in his face, their slight height difference. Really, can’t be more than two, or at most and in exaggeration, three inches. And yet Todoroki brings it up whenever he can. Bastard.
Katsuki glares. It’s just the two of them. He can allow just a tiny bit of hostility. As a treat. "Taller doesn’t equal bigger, dumbass." He resists the urge to stick out his tongue. God, without doing anything at all, Todoroki brings out the worst child in him. It’s going to be a long two months together.
The Flatlanders wedding is in a week, then two weeks of "honeymoon". Two weeks trip back home to Heart, a week to the barbarian wedding and two more weeks of "honeymoon", in his territory this time.
After that, Katsuki will be free. Until next year, of course. He can take that much. He’s going to have to, as he told Todoroki, deal.
Todoroki shrugs, nonchalant and indifferent and oh so irritating. He won’t ever admit Katsuki won one of their little verbal battles. Not that Katsuki will admit it either, hah. He supposes that a non-answer is a kind of an admission of defeat, and he’ll take that tiny win.
The rest of the way passes in silence, each staring out their own respective window.
__________
Even though they’re named Barbarians, Katsuki himself and his people as a whole aren’t an uneducated, primitive folk. They’re wild, they’re intense, they’re maybe a bit hedonistic, but that does not equal what most nations think of them: Dimwitted and uncultured.
Katsuki was trained in various arts and sciences, most of which he forgot immediately. But he still sat through those classes. And among those classes were foreign lands studies as well, with a sharp focus on the Flat Lands.
He learned the Flatlanders' customs, their eating and drinking rules while in polite company, their way of speaking with each other, formal and informal, which he should use with whom (not that Katsuki bothered. He spoke to everyone informally, pretty much, under the excuse of being a barbarian. Sometimes their lousy image does pay off). And for the last year, peppered into all of that were preparations for the wedding.
Their wedding customs are fairly straightforward, as far as ceremonies go. Todoroki and himself will exchange vows of loyalty and devotion. They will pour each other a cup of traditional wedding wine and drink half their own cup, then swap cups and drink the rest. Next will come gift giving, and lastly, the feast.
It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for the fact that Katsuki will have to wear the ceremonial Flatlander’s wedding clothes. He’s seen their normal, day to day clothes countless times. Stuffy layers, thick fabrics, tailored tightly so there’s no room to breathe, no room for flexibility. How can Todoroki walk around in those all day, every day and not go crazy? Katsuki will never understand.
He’s about to get a taste of it though. The books he read about Flatlanders had illustrations of their commoners’ wedding clothes, and if those are anything like the royal wedding clothes, he’s going to hate it.
The morning after their arrival, Katsuki is dragged by the ear to get himself fitted for said clothing. The seamstresses only have a week to work on his pieces, and the head seamstress looks stressed enough when he comes by, so for once Katsuki grumbles quietly and lets them do their job.
They’re definitely measuring him way too tightly, but it’s not like he’s got a say in it. And he’ll only be wearing them for an hour so, Katuski reminds himself, just for the ceremony. Then he’ll be allowed to go to his room and change back to his regular, badass, comfortable clothes before coming back in time to feast.
He’s even kind of looking forward to that part. Flatlanders’ wine is sweet and slightly spicy and strong, ideal for getting wasted on, and when drunk, he’s going to have fun no matter what. Going to be a hell of a good time.
One of the girls measuring him pricks him with a pin and he blurts, "Ow! Fuck!"
She recoils in fear.
Ah. Shit. He forgot they’re perceived as cruel savages here. "It’s okay," His voice is still rougher than it should sound to be reassuring, but whatever. Katsuki isn’t a gentle, comforting man. He’s making a customary effort, and it’s enough for her to visibly relax, so it’s all chill.
From then on it’s a blur of meeting various nobles, practicing his pre-written vows, more fittings to make sure the wedding attire fits snug and suffocating and then there’s the official, seven course meal every. Single. Dinner.
He and Todoroki are pushed into the same spaces whenever possible, but they don’t talk much, which is a blessing. The less contact, the easier it is for Katsuki to keep calm around him and in general.
Each night, he sleeps a little less, and a little worse than the night before that. Mitsuki says it’s the nerves when she sees his dark circles and grumpy demeanor at breakfast.
Personally, he thinks it’s more about dread. His life is about to change forever, and no matter how much he denies feeling fear, change is scary for everyone. Katsuki will never be the free spirit he was allowed to be up until now.
And yeah, he won’t be the actual Barbarian King with all the responsibilities until Mitsuki decides she’s had enough and retires, but he will have to carry certain burdens, and not to mention... Todoroki fucking Shouto. Ugh. He doesn’t even want to think about the bastard. It’s past midnight the day before the wedding, and instead of sleeping, Katsuki lays awake while his thoughts keep circling back to said bastard.
Eventually Katsuki gives up on sleep and decides to take a walk in the fresh air of the gardens instead. The gardens are his favorite place within the palace grounds. This bit of nature, albeit tamed and groomed to be fit for the soft eyes of the gentry, smells good, smells fresh, reminds him of the gardens back at Heart.
It’s dark outside, slightly warm with a fresh breeze from the ocean caressing the bare skin of his torso. The gardens don’t have artificial lighting, magic or flame based, so the only light comes from the half crescent moon above. His eyes get used to it soon enough, but even so it’s hard to make out colors or precise shapes in the shadowy garden.
Walking the designated paths isn’t hard though; they’re covered in white pebbles that reflect the light well enough to follow. He walks around, hands in his pockets, letting his mind wander freely because by now, it’s a lost cause.
His brain is a scramble of Todoroki, duties, the last few days’ events replaying in his mind and the next few days' events playing in his mind like a simulation.
Katsuki looks up from the road occasionally, at the castle, at the sky, at the ocean below where a reflection of the moon glitters on the calm waters. It’s one of those times when he spots a black shape moving among the shadows.
Katsuki is not in the mood to see or talk to anyone right now so he ducks behind a thick tree, listening for any rustling. Whoever it is makes very little noise, but now that Katsuki knows to look for it, he can hear light footsteps on the gravel.
They come to a stop not far away and sigh to themselves.
"The thing is," Their voice says out of nowhere and to no one in particular, "I wouldn’t mind him if he wasn’t so... Him." The voice is familiar, deep but soft and somewhat forlorn. "He’s handsome, he’s fit, he’s skilled with a sword."
The voice is clawing the back of Katsuki’s mind, a hair away from recognition.
"But he hates me." Another sigh. "And he’s a despicable barbarian, unfit to rule a kingdom."
It clicks. Todoroki Shouto. Holy hell, of all goddamn people walking around in the middle of the night... And of course the stupid bastard talks to himself out loud. Probably has no one else to talk to with his bad personality, pushing everyone away, incapable of making friends in the first place.
"I want us to get along. For the good of our kingdoms and the sake of our sanities, if nothing else. But it’s like no matter what I do, Bakugou will never see me as an equal, or god forbid, someone worthy of his attention." There’s bitterness sizzling below the surface. "I thought I cooled down from last year, but it still hurts whenever I think about it."
What’s the bastard talking about? What the hell happened last year? Todoroki did vanish early, but wasn’t the official excuse sickness?
"This is stupid. I’m talking to flowers." Another sigh, and the same light footsteps walking away.
Katsuki keeps his breathing shallow even after the noise fades just to be safe. When he makes the way back to bed it’s with a heavy, confused heart.
He’s never heard Todoroki sound like that before, and he doesn’t like it. Katsuki doesn’t like Todoroki, far from it, but that melancholic, hurt tone... And what for? He doesn’t like being out of the loop. What could Katsuki have possibly done to hurt him last year?
It was Todoroki’s turn to visit the wild lands. He arrived. They haven’t talked much. Sparred some for the entertainment of their people and came out about even, which annoyed Katsuki but not enough to lash out and do anything stupid. They ate breakfast with his family every morning, as is tradition. Todoroki was free to roam the city while Katsuki avoided him, busy with his fling, Denki. That’s about it, and then Todoroki was gone.
Katsuki is still troubled when he falls asleep, but by the time he’s woken up in the morning of the wedding by Mitsuki pinching his cheek, hard, he forgets all about it.