Chapter Text
The palace garden was alive with colour that spring morning. Sunlight glimmered across the fountains, and petals floated lazily on the warm breeze in the Kingdom of Musutafu. Alpha pup Katsuki, barely three years old, chased a butterfly along the cobblestone path, his tiny boots clicking with determination.
Around the palace, the adults were busy. Soldiers drilling in the courtyard, servants tending to the flowers, but Katsuki didn’t notice any of that. His world was small and bright and full of butterflies for the moment.
As he darted around a rose bush, the young Alpha spotted a boy sitting alone by the edge of the fountain. Verdant hair shone in the sunlight, tied back by a simple matching green ribbon, and round emerald eyes followed a floating petal with intense curiosity. The boy seemed small, delicate, and completely absorbed in the world around him and his freckles danced as he smiled.
A scent found its way to the young Alpha, pine. Fresh and sweet. Omega pup.
Katsuki’s chest puffed up instinctively. He didn’t know why, but some tug in his soul told him this boy, this Omega was important. Protective. Someone he would do anything for.
Son of the Bakugo’s, the two most renowned fighters the realm had ever seen, and the coolest people he knew, had always been told that Alphas were meant to protect those they care about. Even at this age, Katsuki knew he wanted to be just like his heroes. Brave, strong, unshakable.
“Hello,” Katsuki called, stepping out from behind the bush. His voice was loud and determined. “What are you doing?”
The boy looked up, startled and wide-eyed. “I… I’m watching the petals. They float like clouds.” he sniffled softly.
The blonde frowned thoughtfully. “Clouds can’t stay on water.” He crouched down, hands on his knees, peering closer. “I’ll make sure no one knocks them in.”
The Omega’s lips curved into a shy smile. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I’m- I’m Izuku.”
“Like the prince?” Katsuki asked while poking a petal, unaware of the growing blush on the other boy.
The blonde grinned as the green-eyed wonder in front of him nodded wordlessly. “Hi Prince Izuku, I’m Katsuki Bakugo,” he said proudly. “And I will protect you, forever!”
The young Omega’s eyes widened impossibly. “Forever?!”
“Forever!” Katsuki nodded, stamping his foot like a little warrior. “My mama and papa are the strongest fighters in the kingdom. They protect everyone. I’m Alpha, just like them. I’m training to be a soldier just like mama and papa! So just rely on me, okay?”
Izuku’s sweet giggle was a bell-like sound, pure and delighted and it made Katsuki’s stomach feel funny. “I think I like that. Thank you, Alpha Kats- Katch, your name is hard.”
Katsuki snorted as Izuku placed a chubby finger on his chin, head in thoughtless wonder. “Can I call you Kacchan? That’s what mama tells me I can call my friends.”
The blonde smiled brilliantly as held out his hand. And giggled softly when Izuku grinned at his response. “Sounds good to me! How do we make it official?”
The small Omegaen Prince took it carefully, tiny fingers curling around the young Alpha’s as he shook their hands a little. “I think you have to kiss the Prince somewhere? I can’t remember where my mama told me though.”
A kiss? That’s easy enough, the young Alpha decided. Just like his papa kissed his mama in the mornings and just before bedtime, his giggles echoed Izuku’s when he placed a quick kiss on his freckled cheek. “Done!”
From that day on, the garden became a place of magic, of sunlight, and songbirds, and promises. A promise that would endure through childhood, battles, storms, and a lifetime together.
Even as toddlers, in a world that was already teaching them duty and danger, two small children, one the son of the kingdom’s greatest warriors, the other a gentle Omega prince, made a bond that would never break.
-
The sun burned low in the sky, gilding the training yards in fading light. The air smelled of dirt and metal, the remnants of another long day of drills.
Teenage Katsuki moved like a storm contained. Every step sure, every strike effortless. The watching soldiers murmured among themselves, admiration carried on the wind. He’d become everything his parents were. Strong, graceful, untouchable.
Izuku watched from the edge of the field, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his practice blade.
Since toddlers, they’d trained side by side, laughing at each other when they stumbled, bruised but unbreakable together. But now Katsuki stood apart, surrounded by warriors and eyes that looked at him like he was already a written legend.
And among those watching eyes were Omegas who smiled too sweetly, who called his name with a softness that made something ache in the Prince’s chest.
When Katsuki turned to him and smiled his brilliant, signature grin, that familiar, unguarded smile, it only hurt worse.
“My Prince,” the blonde teased. “Are you planning on slacking off all afternoon? Come on, show me that swing again.”
Izuku forced a smile and joined him. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your audience, Kacchan.” The nickname felt heavier leaving his tongue.
The Alpha blinked, lowering his sword slightly. “My what?”
He shifted his feet as Izuku lifted his own blade, avoiding his gaze. “The ones who can’t seem to take their eyes off you, Alpha.”
The metal clashed between them, Izuku’s strikes sharp, precise, a little too fierce. Katsuki parried them easily with familiar, trained endurance, frowning. “You’re angry.” he states between blows.
“I’m not.”
“You are.” The Alpha caught his blade, twisting until their swords locked between them. “You think I don’t see it?”
The Omega’s breath shook. The sound of the others faded, the world narrowing to the space between their blades as it always became. “You’re different now,” he whispered, stumbling backwards from the fierce spar. “My kingdom depends on you being as focused as humanly possible, that does not mean you just get to show off, Kacchan.”
“I never lose focus.” A choked sound escaped his lips as Katsuki’s jaw tightened. “Not when it comes to you!”
Izuku swallowed hard as he dodged a move he’d seen the blonde perfect. “You’ll be Captain one day. You’ll have the right to choose a mate. There’ll be Omegas who would give anything to be by your side, Kacchan. The kind of people the court would approve of.”
The words came out quieter than he meant them to. Small, raw, trembling.
To really understand what the Omega was telling him, Katsuki stepped forward, closing the space between them until the tips of their boots almost touched. “We made a promise,” the Alpha snarls as their swords clash. “I’m yours, remember? I’m yours to use until I die.”
The Prince tried to look away, but Katsuki caught his wrist, holding him there. “I’ll die before leaving your side for some Omega.”
“You don’t understand,” Izuku told him, his voice breaking as it dragged him back to bright green, damp eyes. “It seems you have grown bored of me. Bored of having to stay by my side. You see there are better options for you now. And I can’t stop it. I can’t stop you from going after that.”
After them. He didn’t voice.
“I promised you forever, Izuku.” The Alpha tried to bargain.
His reply spilled out before he could stop himself. “How can I believe in a promise like that, Kacchan?”
The Alpha’s grip left him sooner than it joined him, his expression collapsing into something painful and angry all at once as his sword dropped to his feet. The sound made Izuku drop his own in surprise as he found himself staring into pools of scarlet. “Who do you think you are, Izuku?” he whispered dangerously. “You think I’m some push over, weak-willed mutt?”
Izuku’s stomach dropped a hundred feet beneath him as his throat tightened, a tear slipping down before he could stop it. “No, Kacch-!”
Katsuki lifted his hand, hesitated, then cupped the Omega’s cheek gently, thumb brushing away the tear. “I swore an oath to you as pups. When have I ever given you reason to not trust me?”
The courtyard went silent around them, save for the wind rustling the banners above. The others had long since left, giving their Prince and his guard in training their small, sacred distance.
The Prince exhaled shakily, the weight in his chest easing only a little. “You’ve never.” he murmured.
They stayed silent in each other's presence until the sun had begun his kiss to the earth, leaving them drowned in the summer breeze of heat and belonging.
Hoping to break the new found tension, the blonde Alpha pulled on the little ponytail the Prince had tied his growing emerald green hair back into, laughing as Izuku showed his glare at him whenever he chose to annoy his Sovereign. “You need to cut your hair soon, nerd.”
In spite of the teasing, Izuku simply sighed softly as he pulled the ribbon from the back of his styled hair.
“You’re gonna have to keep this safe for me then. Promise me you’ll keep it safe. It, me. Yourself.”
He wrapped the delicate ribbon around an already toned wrist as the wind blew between them, surrounding them in intimate solace.
Katsuki smirked, but his eyes shone with something that wasn’t pride or strength. Instead, something fragile.
“I promise, my Prince.” he declared once Izuku had finished up the final knot. “In a few years, I’ll earn my place as Captain of your army and I’ll prove to you my undying loyalty to you and you alone.”
Izuku sighed as he rested his head on Katsuki’s already wide and heavily burdened shoulder. “I know, Kacchan.”
They stood there for a long moment, swords forgotten, the world holding its breath around them. The sun dipped lower, painting them in amber light.
Two souls caught between duty and devotion, both too young and too old for the ache they carried.
-
The people of Musutafu were alive with the hum of celebration. Soldiers cheered, the air thick with dust and sunlight as Katsuki stood in the center of the palace’s arena, sweat streaking down his neck, his chest heaving from the final clash. Mitsuki and Masuru roared in triumph by the sidelines, their family crest waving as they cheered for their only son.
The banners of the kingdom rippled behind him, and for the first time, the weight of his lineage felt earned.
He had done it. He had won.
From the balcony above, freshly turned eighteen, Prince Izuku had watched every moment, every swing of his sword, every ounce of fury and grace that made Katsuki who he was. He was filled with rewarding affection, unbridled and overflowing with pride.
“Little Katsuki has gotten so strong. Don’t you think, Izuku.” Queen Inko teased, eyes never leaving the wide eyed awe of her son.
When the final blow landed and the crowds roared, the Omega’s heart had leapt with something fierce and uncontainable.
Strong Alpha indeed. Will make the perfect mate. Mine. Mine. Mine.
By the time the blonde Alpha had sheathed his blade and turned to the only Omega he had dreamt of since a pup, Izuku was already running down the steps. The world blurred around him, the clamor of celebration, the soldiers bowing, the cries of his parents but none of it mattered. He only saw his Prince.
Katsuki shuffled forward just before Izuku broke through the crowd. For a heartbeat, the world fell silent. The crowds stood in wait, patiently hoping to finally see the long awaited union of their Sovereign and his newly appointed Captain of Musutafu’s army.
“Your Highness,” the Alpha declared softly, voice rough from exhaustion but eyes bright with a joy he couldn’t hide as he fell to one knee, hand clutched tightly to his beating heart. “I kept my promise.”
Izuku’s breath hitched as the scent of proud Alpha swam to him. “You did,” he whispered. “You always do.”
He reached out. Trembling but sure and touched Katsuki’s bruised cheek, brushing away a streak of blood that wasn’t his. The contact was electric. The Alpha froze, caught between reverence and longing, his heartbeat echoing in his ears louder than any victory song. The need to bring his Omega Prince into his shaking arms.
“I watched you,” The Prince murmured, his thumb lingering against the blonde’s skin, heart racing as sparks passed between them. “You fight like the stars themselves are watching.”
The Alpha blonde let out a shaky breath, his chest tight with something deeper than pride. “I only wanted you to see me,” he admitted quietly. “Not as the son of two soldiers. Not as your guard. Just me.”
Izuku smiled small, trembling, beautiful. “I see you, Katsuki Bakugo. And now so does the rest of the kingdom.”
The Prince’s smile faltered for a moment. His eyes dropped to the Captain’s insignia on Katsuki’s chest. “Now that you’ve earned your rank,” he said carefully, “You’ll be allowed to choose a mate. That’s tradition.”
The Alpha blinked, caught off guard. “It is.”
Izuku nodded too quickly, eyes now trained on the bustling kingdom fluttering around them to avoid the stinging behind his green lashes.
The mere thought of another Omega claiming his Alpha Captain made his own Omega howl in possessive agony.
“Then the court will be very interested. You’ll have nobles lining up for you, Kacchan. I can bring you many Omegas with titles, Omegas with fortune.”
“I don’t want just any titled Omega.”
The freckled Omega gasped sharply and a lot louder than he would have preferred as his heart breaks in his own chest. “And why is that?”
The Champion did not answer immediately.
He didn’t tease. He didn’t smirk. He didn’t turn it into a game the way Izuku hated the blonde always did.
Katsuki simply stood, still, calm, gaze fixed on their bustling kingdom, and answered very quietly.
“I have already chosen.”
Izuku blinked.
The celebration noise dimmed, as though a hand had pressed the world underwater. Waves crashed against his chest in thunderous, rebellious streams.
“What?” The Prince whispered as his heart shattered. “Already?”
The Alpha finally turned to him. There was no triumph in his face, no satisfaction.
Only truth, steady and unshakable.
“A long time ago.”
Izuku felt himself sway, just slightly, as though the floor had shifted beneath him.
“A long-” His voice caught traitorously. “How long?”
The blonde he loved so harshly didn’t look away.
“Years.”
Years.
The word hollowed the Omega out.
Years?!
Someone had held Katsuki’s heart for years?
Someone had been chosen long before today, long before this celebration, long before the Prince even knew to worry.
His throat tightened.
“Oh,” he breathed, barely sound. “I see.”
He didn’t. He couldn’t.
He saw nothing.
Everything blurred.
He tried to smile. Tried to be gracious. Tried to be royal.
“They must be very remarkable,” Izuku responded softly, safely. “If you chose them before you even had the right to.”
At his fixed tone, Katsuki’s jaw flexed, the smallest sign of frustration, or pain, or both.
“Yes, my Prince.” The Alpha whispered gently. “They are certainly worth the wait.”
The words cut.
They were supposed to.
The Prince stared down at the stone beneath his feet.
He didn’t know what to do with his heart. It was too full. Too pained. Too afraid.
“When did you meet them?” he asked, barely breathing. “Was it training? Or the marketplace? Or—”
Was it the pretty Omega cook that fed the guards after her shift in the palace? Or the kind redhead Katsuki had grown up training with? Maybe it was the Omega that the Bakugo warriors had rescued all those years ago and got close to the family.
There were too many options, too many who sought out the Alpha. So many Izuku had ignored, hubris and ignorance coming back to wrap itself around the Prince and his already tightly bound heart.
Without knowing, the Alpha Champion stepped forward, closing the distance before the Omega could collapse to his knees. Bowing, the heir to the throne, submitting to a mere commoner, a Royal guard.
Begging for a recount. Pleading for a chance.
Katsuki didn’t touch the Prince.
Not yet.
“When we were children,” he finally answered.
Izuku looked up.
But the Champion’s voice did not waver. Not once.
“You had just turned three,” Katsuki murmured. “In the palace gardens. Gazing at clouds through an image that reflected as clear as my love for you, Izuku.”
The Prince froze.
And Katsuki continued, steady, like reciting something carved into him.
“I vowed myself to you, Izuku Midoriya. My future, my body, and my very soul. And in return, you looked at me like I was something that mattered. At that moment, I knew.”
His voice was quiet. And absolute.
“It has been you ever since.”
Izuku’s breath broke, a shudder he couldn’t contain.
Him.
The Alpha had chosen him. A Prince that had never asked or needed for anything except for the love of the blonde that stood proud in front of him.
And the Prince, foolish, terrified, in love, had spent mere minutes grieving something that was already his.
His eyes stung, tears gathering fast and helpless. The raging storm of jealousy in his veins died as quickly as they formed.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything, Kacchan?” Izuku pleaded, whispered. “Why didn’t you-”
“Because I was afraid, Izuku.” The Alpha Champion cut him off.
The world went still. As did the Prince’s whiplashed heart.
“Afraid that a simple guard couldn’t give you what you wanted. Afraid that wanting you would be selfish. Afraid of what I would do if you were never mine.”
The Omegaen Prince let out a sound, small and mournful.
Katsuki stepped closer now, close enough that their foreheads brushed, close enough to feel the warmth of his sweet scent surrounding them both.
“Izuku,” he said, voice low and steady and real. “Be mine. Let me be yours.”
A single exhale of shaky breath as he whispered.
“I beg of you, my Prince.”
The tears fell.
And the Alpha reached, slow and careful, and wiped them gently away.
Izuku exhaled, broken and relieved all at once. Because he was where he belonged, where his soul was whole and his shoulders were lighter.
“Say it again,” he whispered.
The Champion did not hesitate.
“Since the day I met you in the garden, I’ve had no room for anyone else.”
Something in Izuku’s composure cracked. All the poise, the careful restraint of a Prince, fell away as his eyes filled. “You’re the Captain of our kingdom’s army now,” he murmured. “You can’t just dismiss our people like that, Kacchan.”
Katsuki’s grin finally widened as he chuckled the brilliant sound Izuku adored hearing. “Forgive me this one time, my Prince.”
The Alpha Champion pressed him against his chest. The crowd had faded into a hum behind them and the world had narrowed to the sound of their breathing.
For a moment, neither moved. The air between them was heavy with everything they had never said.
The childhood promises, the endless training, the stolen glances in the corridors. And then, as if pulled by something older than both of them, Izuku looked up.
The Alpha’s hand came up, suddenly uncertain, resting against the small of the Prince’s back. “If I touch you,” he whispered, “I won’t be able to stop.”
Izuku’s breath shuddered out as he clawed at the tunic his Champion wore to threads. “Good.”
The distance vanished.
Their lips met, a hesitant, trembling thing that deepened as all the unspoken years between them rushed forward at once. It was the kind of kiss that sealed vows no one else could hear. A promise renewed in warmth and sunlight.
When they finally drew apart, Izuku’s forehead rested against his as they caught their breaths between sweet smiles of unbelieving devotion.
“I love you, Katsuki Bakugo.”
The Alpha purred, eyes bright and brilliant as always as his shining, signature grin made the Prince weak at the joints.
Izuku reached out, fingers trembling slightly, brushing the line of Katsuki’s jaw. “You’re still covered in dust,” he whispered against his lips.
“Then I’ll bring you the next victory clean,” his Champion responded as he swayed them side to side.
“You’ll have to keep that vow, Captain,” the Omega joked, the audience around them coming back into light. “You’ll have to keep coming back.”
The Alpha Champion simply smiled through the sting in his eyes, lips capturing the Prince’s own for a second time. “I will. Because there’s only one person I’ve ever sworn to protect, and love.”
-
The bells of the capital rang at dawn.
Their sound carried through every street, over every rooftop, to the distant fields where farmers paused and smiled. It was the day their kingdom would remember for generations.
The day the Omega Prince Izuku Midoriya was to wed Captain Katsuki Bakugo, the youngest soldier ever titled by the royal guard.
The palace gleamed beneath banners of gold and white. Flowers draped from every archway; the air was perfumed with lilies and rain-washed petals. In the great hall, sunlight spilled through tall stained glass, scattering colors across the marble floor like blessings from the heavens.
Katsuki stood before the altar, clad in ceremonial armor polished to a mirror’s sheen. His crest, newly engraved with the royal sigil, glinted at his collar. He had faced battles before, but none had made his hands shake the way they did now. The bright green ribbon, the first gift he had ever received from his beloved Omega, wrapped safely around his wrist, where it stayed for every second of his adult life.
It took every bit of strength to look away from his father in the pews as his mother attempted to soothe the sobbing for the sixth time today.
He looked toward the great doors instead, and then they opened.
Izuku entered on a path of petals, every inch the Prince and yet something softer, purer. His robes were woven from fine silk that shimmered like starlight, embroidered with the forest green crest of their house. A golden circlet rested in his hair, delicate and luminous. Behind him trailed a small procession of attendants, each holding part of his train, though it was the Prince himself who lit the hall just by walking through it.
When their eyes met, the crowd fell away.
The High Priest Yagi spoke the ancient words of union, his voice echoing through the vaulted chamber. “Two hearts, one vow. Two paths, one promise. Do you, Prince Izuku Midoriya, bind your life to this Alpha, to protect, cherish, and walk beside him through all days?”
The sweet Prince smiled, a trembling, radiant thing. “I do,” he said softly from beneath his ceremonial veil.
“And you, Captain Katsuki Bakugo,” Priest Yagi continued, “Sworn of the crown, child of the kingdom’s most renowned warriors. Do you vow to uphold this bond, to protect not just your sovereign, but your love, as fiercely as you protect your realm?”
The Alpha captain didn’t hesitate. His voice carried, strong and sure as he stood unshaken from his next words. “I do. Until my last breath, I am his.”
The High Priest nodded, blessing their joined hands with the royal seal. “Then let this union stand before gods and men, not as command and protector, but as soul and soul, bound by choice.”
Izuku then turned to his Alpha, tears bright in his eyes as Katsuki lifted his veil. “You kept your promise,” he whispered, voice trembling.
The blonde couldn’t help but laugh softly, a little breathless. “And I always will.”
When he leaned forward to kiss him, the bells began to ring again, a thunder of joy and light that rolled across the kingdom. The people outside erupted in cheers, petals were thrown from the balconies, and the skies seemed to shine brighter than ever.
In that moment, the garden of their childhood felt close again, the memory of tiny hands clasped and a childish vow whispered among petals: I will protect you forever.
For now, those words had come full circle.
And when they turned to face their kingdom, hand in hand beneath the high arches of gold and glass, they weren’t just Prince and Captain anymore. They were rulers, partners, and the living proof that love, even born in the quiet corners of a garden, could one day become a legend.
”I love you, my Izuku.”
”I have loved you the same, Kacchan.”
-
The kingdom had not gone quiet.
Even as night fell, torches burned bright in the streets, and laughter rose from every square. Music floated through open windows, carrying the rhythm of drums and flutes, echoing against stone walls and starry skies.
From the royal balcony, Izuku and Katsuki stood side by side, hand in hand, watching their people dance below. The city lights spread like a sea of gold and fire.
“They’ve been out there since sunset,” the Prince murmured, a smile tugging at his lips as he swam in the sweet scent of deep caramel, Katsuki’s Alpha in complete content.
“They’ll be out there until sunrise, nerd.” Katsuki said softly as he held his husband in his strong, weathered arms. “They’ve earned it. We all have.”
The Omegaen Prince turned his head, watching how the glow of the torches painted light across the love of his life’s face. “You have given this Kingdom much peace, Kacchan.”
Katsuki shook his head. “We have, my love.”
Below them, fireworks burst in a shower of light, painting the sky in gold and crimson. The crowd cheered, a single, unified voice that rose through the night like a song. For a moment, it felt as though the whole world bowed to the joy of it. To them.
The Captain looked down at their people, the banners waving their joined crest as he leaned back against the frames of the balcony archway. “Memories of our first meeting had consumed my mind all day, ya know.” he whispered quietly.
Izuku giggled, that same melodic sound that had always undone the Captain’s entire being. “In our garden. You were no taller than a sword.”
“And you had grass in your hair,” Katsuki bit back, grinning. “I meant what I said Izuku. I promise to protect you for the rest of our lives. I promise to put your Kingdom and our people before all.”
Izuku’s gaze softened, pride and love mingling in his eyes. “You sound like a king already.”
A soft laugh made the blonde turn to him, lifting his husband’s hand to his lips. “Only because I have one beside me.”
The fireworks flared again, painting the palace in light. The city roared with joy. And for the first time, neither Prince nor Captain felt like they were watching history.
They were it.
The Omega leaned against him, the crown of his head brushing Katsuki’s shoulder as they once more looked to their celebrating people. “Do you think they’ll remember this night, Kacchan?” he asked quietly.
“They’ll remember you,” the Captain declared. “And if they remember me at all, it is because I never left your side.”
The Prince smiled faintly. “You never did.”
The bells began again, not the solemn ones of ceremony, but the bright, wild music of Musutafu alive. The wind carried the sound through the streets, through the open fields, to the edges of the realm.
The Prince and his Captain stood together as the fireworks bloomed again, their bodies still entwined, their hearts steady. Below, the people cheered for their love, their peace, their future.
“Come, my Prince.” The Alpha purred, dragging his new husband towards their new shared chambers, voice thick with mischief. “It’s time to finally mate with your very talented, very gifted, Alpha.”
The red flushing of the Prince’s face did nothing to hide his excitement, hand slapping hard across the chest of his husband as they scampered through the palace. “Kacchan, have some decency.”
The blonde simply laughed.
-
The palace gardens glowed with late afternoon warmth, roses bowed heavy with petals, the fountain murmuring in the gold light. The Prince sat beneath the flowering willow, posture graceful and serene, the picture of a sovereign beloved by his people.
By his mate.
A shadow crossed the path, large, grounded.
Unmistakable, unshakeable scent of burnt sugar.
Katsuki didn’t walk so much as take space. His presence always did. Broad-shouldered, scarred from training and battle both, every inch of him radiated strength that most people instinctively stepped aside for.
But Izuku didn’t look up because of that.
He looked up because the Alpha Captain was his.
“You’re home early, Kacchan.” Prince Izuku murmured, the soft smile blooming before he could stop it.
In return, the Alpha gave a low, satisfied growl, something like a hum, something like a claim.
“They couldn’t keep up today,” he said bluntly, dropping beside the freckled Omega on the bench. Their shoulders touched, the blonde’s warmth sinking into him immediately. “I dismissed the drills.”
Izuku’s lips twitched. “You dismissed them because you wanted to come here.”
The Captain didn’t deny it. He took his husband’s hand in his, fingers strong, possessive, calloused. Their rings glinted together. Katsuki’s thumb brushed the Prince’s pulse.
Slow, deliberate, knowing.
“You’re here,” he said, almost scoffing. “Where else would I go?”
Izuku exhaled, fond. He leaned his head lightly against his Alpha’s arm the way one might lean against something reliable, immovable. “Some people said marriage would change us.”
Katsuki snorted. “Only idiots thought that.” He shifted closer, crowding the Omega’s space without hesitation, because his place there was unquestioned. “You were always mine. Putting a ring on you just made the rest of the kingdom accept it.”
Izuku let out a small laugh, quiet and warm, like sunlight. “They underestimated you, as usual.”
“It’s bullshit,” the Alpha Captain said, with absolute, shameless confidence. But when he looked at his husband, his voice softened, not weaker, just truer. “We didn’t change. We just stopped pretending.”
The Prince’s hand tightened in his.
“Yes,” he breathed. “Exactly that.”
The willow branches swayed overhead, casting leaf-shaped shadows across their joined hands.
The Alpha shifted so he faced him fully. “Three years as Captain,” he said, tone low, almost rough. “Three years your husband and I still look at you and think-” He paused, jaw flexing with a feeling too big for words. “Izuku, you are the crowning glory of my life.”
Izuku blinked, warmth rising in his chest at his brutish husband’s rare vulnerability. “You think of it as a victory?”
Katsuki smirked, but his eyes were soft, stupidly, overflowing-soft.
Typical Katsuki Bakugo’s Izuku centered softness.
“You’re the only thing I ever wanted to fight for, nerd.”
The words hit the Prince like an embrace.
Slowly, he leaned in, giving blonde Alpha the chance to move, to take.
Katsuki didn’t hesitate.
He kissed this Omega with a steady, certain pressure, not urgent, but sure. A kiss that said mine, and yours, and we belong.
When they parted, their foreheads pressed together.
The Alpha murmured, voice low and rough with devotion, “Still yours.”
The Prince cupped his jaw, thumb brushing the stubble there. “Always mine, Kacchan.”
The garden hummed around them.
-
The great doors closed with a hollow boom that echoed through the marble chamber. Every sound that followed, the rustle of cloaks, the clink of armor.
It all seemed too loud in the heavy silence.
Captain Bakugo stood at the end of the war table, still somewhat hazy from the morning council arrival. The Prince was beside him, the royal seal glinting on his sleeve. Around them sat the generals, grim-faced, eyes lowered.
The messenger’s words hung in the air like smoke.
"The Kingdom of Hosu has issued a demand.
They claim the Omega Prince of the kingdom Musutafu must be surrendered as tribute or they will march before the next full moon."
The room shifted, a collective intake of breath.
The Prince went still. Only the trembling of his hands betrayed him.
Katsuki’s chair scraped back as he rose to his feet. “They dare speak his name as a bargain?” His voice was low, dangerous.
“Captain,” one of the generals began carefully, “It is not a threat to be dismissed. Their forces outnumber ours two to one. If they believe the Prince can be used to break our will-”
“They won’t touch him.” The Alpha Captain’s words cut through the air. “Not while I breathe.”
His husband turned toward him, the shock in his eyes mingling with something deeper, fear.
But not for himself. “Kacchan-”
But the Captain didn’t look at him. His gaze stayed fixed on the map spread across the table, the ink-dark borders now feeling too small to contain the danger pressing in. “If they move against us, we’ll meet them at the river crossing,” he said. “We’ll end it there before it ever reaches the capital.”
The council murmured, half in approval, half in disbelief. The crossing was a week's travel away on horseback.
“Bakugo,” the second in command of the guard said softly, blood red hair shielding his own heart torn eyes. “If we go to war, we’ll be leading the vanguard. You understand what that means.”
“Of course I do.” He snarled.
The Prince’s voice trembled. “You’re already marked for the front lines. You can’t-!”
For a second, the Captain turns away from his mate, scent souring with dread and determination. “We don’t have time to waste.”
The council watched in uneasy silence, some moved, some afraid of the fire in his voice.
The second he spoke, it broke the moment. “Then it’s decided. The army marches at dawn.”
A low murmur swept through the chamber. Soldiers exchanged glances, hearts heavy with worry as they all, one by one, left their Sovereign alone with his husband.
There was silence in spaces Katsuki would usually need to fill. But with his hands keeping him balanced from keeling over, his attention was skewed.
“Alpha.”
When he finally looked at his Omega, whatever words he’d been about to say died on his tongue. The sight of Izuku’s eyes, wide, frightened, glassy with unshed tears, shattered something inside him.
Wordlessly they move towards each other in the now dimmed room.
“This isn’t your burden to carry, Kacchan,” the Prince whispered against his husband’s chestplate. “They’re coming for me. Not you.”
“They’ll never reach you,” The blonde Alpha declared, stepping closer, every word a vow. “They could burn the sky itself, and I’d still stand between you and the flames.”
Izuku’s lips parted as though to speak again, but no sound came, only a grieving sob. It ached him but Katsuki placed a gentle kiss on his Omega’s shaking lips, a silent promise pressing against his trembling husband’s body.
Outside, thunder rolled across the horizon, too distant yet, but coming fast.
And in that quiet between the last words and the first drumbeat of war, both of them knew. This was the beginning of something they might not survive, but could never run from.
-
The sky was blood and smoke the morning Katsuki left. It wept for him, for the soldiers under his reign.
The war banners snapped like thunder above the walls, and the courtyard reeked of rot and melted earth.
The Alpha stood in his armor, every piece fitted with the precision of duty, every breath heavy with the dread of leaving. His chest ached as if burdened with a hole drilled through it.
His hands refused to obey and stop shaking.
He didn’t have to turn around when he heard the familiar sniffs and aggressive jolts of clothed feet rustling the stones lining the courtyard, but as always he did.
Furious and beautiful green met his eyes as in his grief, stood the Omega prince.
Fear wrapped itself violently around Izuku’s wonderfully piney scent despite the conviction in his next words.
“You’re not doing this,” the gentle Prince declared, voice trembling, his fists clenched tight at his sides. “You are not riding out there to die.”
Katsuki turned, slow and steady, his expression already carved from discipline and trained stoicism. “It’s my duty, Izu-”
“Damn your duty!” The Omega snapped, stepping forward, striking his fists against the Alpha’s chestplate. “You think I care about your duty when they’re sending you into slaughter? When you’re the only thing-” His voice cracked. “The only thing I have left that feels alive?”
The blonde was careful as he caught his wrists gently, but his grip was firm, grounding, as if keeping a fighting predator at arms reach. “You think I want to go?” he said, low, rough. “You think I haven’t prayed all night for a reason to stay?”
“Then stay!” Izuku begged, eyes burning, tears sliding down his cheeks in furious silence. “For once in your life, choose me over your duty!”
Something in Katsuki’s composure cracked, just slightly. The desperate pleas from his sweet, joyous Omega filled him with self betrayal, shame.
His wrist burned from where Izuku’s ribbon lay beneath his arm guard.
The Alpha leaned down, their foreheads colliding, breath shared and shaking as he placed a firm hand on either side of Izuku’s tear-damp jaw. “If I stay, this kingdom burns,” he said, voice breaking. “If I stay, they will take you from me. This is the only way I can keep you safe, Omega.”
“I don’t need safety!” Izuku spat back, hands curling around the exposed shirt hung tightly on Katsuki’s armoured chest. “I need you!”
The words hung between them, raw and bleeding.
Katsuki’s throat worked. He wanted to speak, wanted to comfort his poor, frightened Omega, but the truth was a blade in his mouth.
He shook Izuku’s face in both hands with the roughness of someone terrified to let go. “You are everything I fight for, do you understand that, Izuku?!” He asked fiercely. “Every time I raise my sword, it’s for you. Every time I bleed, it’s because I’d rather the world take me before it ever touches you.”
“You swore an oath to me,” the Prince bargained, gripping the metal of his chestplate until his knuckles turned white. “Don’t you dare say goodbye, Kacchan.”
“I have to,” Katsuki choked, tears cutting through the grime on his face. “Because if I don’t now, I won’t be able to walk away.”
He kissed him, not soft, not tender, but desperate, like breathing before drowning. Izuku pushed against him, furious and shaking, and then melted into it, clutching him as if he could anchor him there by force. Tears streamed as he whimpered between stolen breaths. Everything between their bond broke and rebuilt itself over and over again in a matter of seconds. A timeless loop that functioned only in the space of their forever.
When they finally tore apart, both were gasping.
“Don’t do this to me,” Izuku hopelessly begged, voice hoarse and so weak, weaker than Katsuki could ever remember it being. “Kacchan, Alpha. Stay.”
Instead, Katsuki’s hands trembled as he rested one over the Prince’s heart. “I swear it to you, Izuku Bakugo,” he whispered sweetly. “Even if I have to crawl through hell itself, I will come back to you.”
Before Izuku could try his luck once more, a horn sounded in the distance. It was low and final and it made Izuku desperate and his scent bitter.
Katsuki sighed and stepped back.
“Don’t look away,” the Prince sobs, fresh tears racing as he brings Katsuki’s gloved hand to his cheek. “Don’t, Kacchan. Please, don’t look away.”
But Katsuki did. Because if he didn’t, he would break.
He turned, shoulders stiff, eyes fixed on the gate, and the moment he crossed the threshold, the rain began heavy, unrelenting, washing their world in grey. So fucking typical.
Izuku sank to the stones, shaking, the echo of Katsuki’s vow still burning against his chest.
And through the storm, as he climbed on his beloved stallion, barely audible, came his last whispered promise carried by the wind:
“I will come back to you.”
-
For a long moment after his beloved husband disappeared through the gates, Izuku didn’t move.
He sat there, frozen in the rain, eyes locked on the place where the Alpha had been, the shape of him still burned behind his eyelids like an afterimage of lightning.
Then something inside him snapped.
“Damn you!” he wailed, the words tearing from his throat. “Damn you, Katsuki Bakugo!”
He stumbled forward, fists slamming against the wet stone slab, the sound hollow and furious. “You swore to me,” His voice broke, over and over. “You promised you’d never leave me!”
The remaining guards that lined the gates turned away, aching and pretending not to see their Prince come undone. Worry for their Captain swimming violently between them.
His robe was already soaked through, the silk clinging to him as if even the rain refused to let go.
He fell to his elbows where his mate had stood moments ago, palms pressed flat against the ground, the stone slick beneath his hands. His breath came in shudders.
“I don’t want your oaths,” he whispered, voice shaking. “I don’t want your vows or your honor or your goddamned promise.”
I’m training to be a soldier just like mama and papa! So just rely on me, okay?
His head bowed, tears mixing with the rain. “I just want you, you stupid Alpha.”
The storm answered in silence. Only the hiss of rainfall replied, washing the courtyard clean of everything but memory.
Izuku looked down and saw it, a small strip of green ribbon, half-buried in the mud. Torn from Katsuki’s wrist as he’d mounted his horse.
He reached for it with trembling hands, clutching it to his chest. The fabric was warm still and faintly scented of firewood, of caramel.
Of him.
A broken laugh escaped the Omegaen Prince’s lips, half-sob, half-prayer. “You idiot,” he murmured. “You impossible, wonderful idiot.”
The sound of hoofbeats faded beyond the walls, swallowed by thunder.
He rose, the torn ribbon clenched in his fist. He turned toward the open gates, the wind whipping through his soaked hair, and shouted, not in command this time, not as a Prince, but as a simple animal calling out to his eternal mate.
“Come back to me, Kacchan! Do you hear me!?” His voice cracked on the words. “Come back to me or I will find you myself!”
His cry vanished into the storm, carried somewhere beyond the hills, where perhaps the Alpha might still hear it.
Then the Prince sank against the gate, trembling, the green threads pressed to his heart.
And though the world was nothing but grey and grief around him, he clung to that single strip of color like it was the last spark of life left in him.
Because it was.
-
“You are expecting.”
The words hit Izuku like a hammer. His hands flew to his stomach instinctively, and the air seemed to vanish from the room. “I’m-?” he whispered, disbelief and fear colliding.
“Yes, your highness” the physician confirmed, voice soft as he packed away equipment Izuku couldn’t even begin to understand the uses for. Not that it was his priority at that second.
“There is life. Healthy, though very early. Avoid stress. Rest whenever possible.”
The Prince stood abruptly, pacing the chamber as his hands clawed at the fabric wrapped around his thin, fluttering belly.
His chest heaved in horror and confusion, because how could he be so unlucky? He was cursed, blessed and cursed, tenfold.
“Rest?! How can I rest when he’s out there? When Kacchan, my husband, my mate, your future king is still at war?!” His voice cracked, raw with panic and longing. “How can I protect our pup, or myself, when I can’t even protect him?”
The physician tried to reach for him, but the Omegaen Prince waved him back, pacing in a storm of fear and yearning. “He should be here!” Izuku sobbed, voice breaking. “He should be here! I should be holding him, not waiting in terror for news, not alone!”
A tear slipped down his cheek as he pressed his hand to his womb as if he could somehow shield it from the world. “I should be telling him. I should be telling him that… that we’re going to have a pup. That there’s life between us, but he’s not here!”
The chamber felt impossibly small, suffocating, and the Prince’s hands trembled. Every memory of Katsuki surged.
Their first kiss as toddlers in the palace gardens. Training in the courtyard they claimed as theirs by the age of fourteen. Their first real kiss at Katsuki’s Captain ascension. The warmth of his hands brushing against Izuku’s own in the quiet moments between banquets, the way he had promised, always, that he would return.
“I should have known,” Izuku whispered, voice tight and drenched in agony. “I should have felt it. But I was too busy waiting, hoping, praying that he comes home alive. And now-”
His knees hit the stone floor, every ounce of control slipping away. “And now there’s a part of him inside me and I can’t hold him. I can’t see him. I can’t feel him. I can’t-”
The physician remained silent, allowing the grief to fill the room. Izuku’s breath came in shuddering gasps as he pressed both hands to his belly. “I want him here. I need him. I need my mate,” he whispered, the words raw and pleading. “I need him to know. I need him to hold me. I need him to come home.”
And in the stillness of the chamber, all that existed was the echo of his own heartache, the fierce, aching yearning for the brash blonde, and the fragile, trembling life now growing within him.
-
The council room still smelled faintly of ink and candle smoke from the morning’s reports, though the hour had grown late. Queen Inko stood at the head of the long table, hands braced flat against polished oak. Her posture was regal, but the tension in her jaw betrayed the weight she carried.
“The next caravan from the border arrives within three days,” an advisor was saying, voice cautious. “We expect supply ledgers, perhaps correspondence, but no further military dispatch was indicated-”
“Then change it,” the Queen interrupted, sharply enough that several heads rose. “There will be dispatch. I will not go another week with silence from the front.”
The advisor swallowed. “Your Majesty, I do not mean to downplay your concern-”
“No,” she snapped. “Do not name it. You have not earned the right.”
The room fell quiet, thick with fear and respect.
Her voice lowered, but the steel in it only sharpened.
“Captain Bakugo may lead the armies, but he is husband to the crown. He is my son by vow and blood of oath, and I will not have his fate reported as an afterthought in some courier’s ledger.”
One of the younger councilors tried again, softer, almost pleading, “We only mean that war has its natural silences, Your Majesty. Communication can be-”
“Unreliable,” she finished for him. “Yes. I am aware.”
Her gaze swept the table.
“But my son waits with child, and every day that passes without word is another stone laid upon his chest. If nothing else, do it for your Prince, since his heart is bound to the battle line as surely as any sword.”
Silence. Then nods. Hesitant, then firmer.
“I want every messenger watched for,” she continued. “Every hawk that crosses our borders. Every Captain’s seal, every stray rumour. The moment-” she struck the table once, not loudly but final, “-there is word from Katsuki or his command, it reaches me first. Do you understand?”
A chorus of Yes, Your Majesty answered.
Before another matter could be raised, the doors at the back of the chamber opened, no announcement given. Few would dare such a thing. Only one woman would.
Mitsuki Bakugo.
Her golden hair had grown streaked with silver since the war began, though her posture remained unbent, the stance of someone who had held a sword her whole life. Mitsuki sharing the face of her only son made Inko’s already hollow heart, deepen.
She did not bow, she never had needed to. Instead, she walked forward with the familiarity of someone who had stood at the Queen’s side in battles long before either of their sons were born.
The Queen exhaled once, softly. “Leave us.”
The council obeyed in a flurry of robes and parchment.
When the doors shut, the chamber felt larger, quieter, too heavy.
Mitsuki stopped only a few feet away. For a moment she looked every inch the warrior she had always been, but her voice was small when it came.
“Have you heard anything?”
Inko’s eyes softened, painfully so.
“No.”
The silence that followed felt like mourning.
Then the Queen stepped forward, taking her oldest friend into her arms. There was no ceremony in it. No title. Just two mothers holding each other because otherwise they might fall.
“I fear for him,” The retired Guard whispered. “The stupid brat has always fought too hard. And now he fights for more than land. He fights for your son, for the pup he doesn’t even know he has.” Her breath broke. “He would die before he let harm come to them.”
“I know,” Queen Inko murmured. “And I fear for mine as well. Izuku’s heart is too quiet these days. He carries hope like it is a wound.”
Mitsuki held her tighter.
“They love each other fiercely,” she said. “It will guide him home.”
“Yes,” the Queen whispered. Then, fiercer, like a promise, “Yes. It will.”
They stood in silence, two women who once fought side by side, now fighting helplessness together.
The Queen was the one to steady herself first, drawing back, voice strong once more.
“We might receive news soon,” she promised. “And if we do, you will hear it beside me. Not after. Not from another. With me.”
Katsuki’s mother nodded, eyes wet but unwavering.
“Beside you,” she repeated.
Like soldiers.
Like sisters.
Like mothers waiting for the same beloved son to return.
-
The market streets were quieter than they should have been. He can’t help but think about the night he had spent with his husband, before he was his husband, hand in hand as they laughed as equals for the first time all those many years ago.
It felt like yesterday.
Lanterns hung as they always had, spices still perfumed the air, fabric stalls still swayed in the breeze, but voices were softer, smiles smaller. The laughter of children sounded almost out of place, trying to fill a space that grief and waiting had hollowed out.
The Prince walked among them with his cloak drawn close, though every person in the kingdom recognized their sovereign no matter how he dressed. His presence did not ripple the way it once had, not with excitement or awe. Instead, it brought a hush. A gentleness.
Concern.
He stopped at a familiar stall, wood worn smooth by years of hands and trade. The merchant had sold fruit here since Izuku and Katsuki were still pups.
“Your Highness,” the man said, bowing deeply, voice rough with age and sleepless nights. “You honour us.”
Izuku lowered his head as he shook the hand of the man before him. “The honour is mine, Hizashi. I… missed the city.”
The merchant’s eyes flicked briefly to the Prince’s middle, not obviously rounded yet, but no longer untouched.
A small girl peeked out from behind the counter, holding the edge of her father’s shirt.
A yellow ribbon was tied in her silver-white hair, and Izuku couldn’t help but grip at the torn ribbon that lived in his pocket.
When she realized she was seen, she stepped forward and held out a sugar dipped apple, bright red, perfect.
“For the baby,” she whispered.
The Omega’s breath caught.
The merchant looked pained. “We wished to send blessings sooner, Your Highness. But the news was-“ He paused, unable to speak the words everyone knew hung between them.
Musutafu’s Captain was still gone.
Grateful, Prince Izuku smiled softly and knelt, accepting the wrapped apple with both hands. “Thank you. I will make sure they know it came from you.”
The girl beamed, then her smile wavered. “Will Captain Bakugo come home soon?”
Izuku’s breath shook before he could stop it.
The merchant placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Hush, Eri-”
“No,” The Prince said, voice gentle. “It’s alright.”
He looked out across the marketplace, mothers haggling with less vigor than they once had, soldiers’ families holding onto letters like lifelines, banners fluttering with no laughter beneath them.
“I hope so,” The Omega answered softly. “I hope every day.”
The merchant’s eyes shone, not pity, but shared ache. His only son was part of the vanguard along side Katsuki.
“We pray for him,” he said. “For Shinsou. For all of them. And for you, Your Highness. It is not easy to wait when the heart is on the battlefield.”
At the hushed, quick tone of the merchant, the Prince swallowed hard.
“My heart has always been with him,” he said. “From the moment we could walk.”
The girl tugged his sleeve. “Then he’ll come back. Because hearts know how to find each other.”
The quiet of the market seemed to hold that thought like a candle flame.
Unstable, but warm.
Prince Izuku blinked quickly, but a tear escaped anyway. He let it fall. He did not turn away or hide it. He only nodded.
“Yes, Miss Eri.” he whispered. “They do.”
The merchant bowed again, lower, this time. Not to a Prince, but to a husband waiting. To a mate aching. To someone carrying hope in his body and sorrow in his ribcage.
“Musutafu stands with you,” Hizashi pronounced.
Izuku held the apple carefully against his chest.
“And we stand with him,” he answered.
The breeze moved through the market again- gentler now. Softer. Like hands smoothing the fold of a prayer flag.
Musutafu grieved for their Captain and his army that night.
-
The weeks that followed blurred together, dried ink and silence, rain and prayer.
False pretenses of meals eaten and baths taken.
Every sunrise came without word, every sunset bled through the high windows of the palace, painting the walls in gold that felt almost cruel. Winter arrived and wept.
Mornings came unjustly as The Prince woke to a gentle hand on his growing belly, his own.
Months went by, and Katsuki’s scent still lingered in every corner, every surface of their shared home.
Izuku had stopped counting the days since the Alpha Captain had ridden out through the gates. The war reports were vague, battles won, villages saved, losses unknown. Each letter sealed by the generals carried his heart in its wax, and each time he broke one open, his hands shook.
Until one morning, as the frost began to retreat from the stones, a new letter came, not in the seal of the generals, but wrapped in worn leather, tied with a strip of green ribbon.
The Omega’s breath caught before he even opened it. The ribbon frayed, faded on one end, was the same one he had tied around Katsuki’s wrist that day at their training grounds as teenagers.
Please, no.
With trembling fingers, he unfolded the parchment.
The handwriting was messy, hurried, but unmistakably his.
My Izuku,
If you are reading this, then god still has a sense of mercy.
The battle for the safety of you and in turn our Kingdom is done. We stood our ground, and we lived.
It took fucking forever. But I have kept my promise to you.
I have seen the dawn break over the enemy’s camp, and it was beautiful in a way I can’t explain. Maybe because it reminded me of you.
I’ve learned that the light doesn’t always come from the heavens; sometimes it’s what we carry with us when everything else is dark. You are my light, Izuku. My reason for living. You always were.
We’re marching home tomorrow.
If I am lucky, I will see you before the moon turns.
If this god exists, I will never have to leave you again.
— K.B.
The words blurred as Izuku pressed the letter to his chest, heaving and crying all at once. A sound full of relief, like peace remembered after too long asleep.
In a matter of seconds, the heavens blessed him with the knowing horn of a victorious return of their military.
He ran through the halls barefoot, past startled handmaids and advisors, out into the courtyard where the rain had first taken them apart. The sky had opened up once again that morning, scattering dull fold across the wet stones.
The gates thundered open at last.
Rain-slick stone trembled beneath the hooves of the returning army, and the air filled with the clash of armor, the calls of captains, the muffled sound of weeping from the watching crowd.
The Prince pushed through the press of courtiers and guards, his heartbeat roaring in his ears. His cloak dragged in the mud, half falling from his shoulders, but he didn’t care. All he could see were the faces of his people, worn, dirty, hollow-eyed men.
Each one not him.
He scanned every rider, every soldier who passed beneath the archway. None of them carried that light, that stance, that spark of defiance he knew by heart.
He steadied his shaking hands on his slightly swollen belly, his and Katsuki’s pup growing strong.
“Where is he?” he muttered. “Where’s papa?”
The crowd shifted again, the metallic smell of horses and wet steel closing in, and then, faint beneath it, something else reached him through the rain.
Something warm. Familiar. Alive. Caramel.
His breath caught.
He turned toward it like a man possessed, following nothing but instinct. He moved through the soldiers, ignoring their bows, their surprised voices. The world narrowed to that thread in the air. Of the aggressive blonde that stole his heart and soul when they were only pups.
And then he saw him.
Katsuki stood at the edge of the column, mud on his boots, one arm bound tight in a sling. His armor was cracked and blackened at the seams, but his eyes when they found his Omega, were the same deep cerise they had always been.
“Kacchan!”
The name left Izuku like a shout and a sob all at once.
The Alpha Captain froze, disbelief and relief flickering over his face before he dropped the reins and rushed forward. “Izuku!”
The Prince was already running, past the soldiers, past his people’s startled looks and when they met, it was as if the world stopped.
The collision knocked the breath from both of them. Izuku hit his Alpha’s chest hard enough to make his armor groan, but neither cared. They clung to each other with everything that was left in them.
“My Izuku. You’re safe.” He heard his husband mumble in relief.
“You came back,” the Prince gasped, fingers digging into the dented plates at Katsuki’s shoulders. “You-you came back to me!”
“Alpha promised.” Katsuki’s deep voice was hoarse, frayed by battle and exhaustion. His uninjured arm circled his mate’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer as his scent sweetened. “I heard you, Omega. I swear I did. It kept me alive.”
The Prince let out a broken laugh that was half a sob as he rubbed against the long faded bite claim he left on his mate years before. “You smell like mud.”
“You smell different.” His mate commented, and the Prince couldn’t help but flush. How to bring up the new milkyness of his scent amongst Katsuki’s fellow soldiers was a mystery, one Izuku would leave for a later, more private moment.
“Bad smell?”
The blonde was quick to shake his head, lips pressed sweetly against Izuku’s scent gland. “You still smell like home, my mate.” The Alpha Captain rambled on, his voice shaking, looping in his bare instincts from his pure fatigue.
Izuku’s grip tightened, his forehead pressing against the cold edge of Katsuki’s collar. “You did so good,” he said, fierce through the tears. “My perfect Alpha, you came back.”
Katsuki drew back just enough to look at him, rain running down both their faces as his eyes shifted to something wild. “Your kingdom is safe,” he said simply. “I promised no harm would come to you.”
Then the Prince kissed him, desperate, trembling, alive. The world around them erupted in sound: soldiers shouting, bells ringing, people crying out in relief. But to them, it was all a distant hum beneath the rush of heartbeat and rain.
When they finally pulled apart, Izuku’s hands lingered against his Alpha’s neck, his eyes searching every scar, every line, as if to memorize them all.
“You saved me,” the Prince finalised softly, wonder threaded through his exhaustion. “You came back to me.”
Katsuki still looked at him like he hung the moon and stars as he brought another kiss to the Omega’s temple. “You found me, Izuku.”
The Omega gave a wet laugh, brushing his nose under his husband’s jaw. “I would’ve found your stupid Alpha scent anywhere.”
-
Musutafu wept and celebrated that night.
The storm had passed, leaving the world washed clean, the air sweet with the scent of rain and ash.
The Prince sat on the edge of the bed, a basin of water beside him. The candlelight flickered against the walls, painting soft gold over Katsuki’s scarred skin as he slept.
For the first time in weeks, the Alpha wasn’t wearing armor. The bruises and cuts along his arms had been cleaned, bandaged; his hair, still damp, fell over his brow in a halo of yellows. He looked younger like this, vulnerable in a way the Omegaen Prince hadn’t seen in years.
“You can rest now,” he whispered with a hand resting on the Alpha’s rising spine. “You’ve done enough.”
The blonde stirred, a small sound escaping him. “‘Zuku…?”
“I’m here, Kacchan.”
His eyes opened slowly, glazed with exhaustion and relief when he found himself tucked safely in their shared chambers once again. “Omega is safe?”
“Yes.” The Prince didn’t hesitate. “And so are you.”
Katsuki nodded faintly, but the old tension never left his shoulders. He tried to rise, instinctively checking for his blade, and Izuku pressed a hand to his shoulder blade. “Stay,” he ordered.
The blonde exhaled shakily, eyes finding him in the dim light. “You’re pale,” he said, voice rough. “You haven’t been sleeping, nerd.”
The Prince smiled weakly. “Neither have you.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the rain and their breaths. Then Izuku whispered, “There’s something I need to tell you.”
His husband's brow furrowed, and he once again attempted with a little success to sit up in their bed. “Is it the council? Another threat?”
He tried not to choke out a laugh as he shook his head, the Prince’s throat too tight to speak for a moment. “No,” he finally managed. “It’s… not that.”
He reached for his mate’s hand and guided it, hesitantly, to rest against his stomach. He had to huff a laugh at the ridiculous size of his husband's fingers against the cloth of his belly.
The Captain froze.
Izuku couldn’t look at him. His voice broke when he spoke, hand gripping onto the Alpha’s. “You were gone for so long Kacchan, I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. I thought you had left me here. And then one morning, the physician told me I wasn’t alone.”
A long silence followed. So long, the Prince thought maybe the Alpha Captain hadn’t heard him.
Then Katsuki’s hand trembled, not in fear, but in something rawer. His thumb brushed against the fabric of his mate’s robe, as though afraid he might break him.
“Izuku,” he whispered, his voice fracturing. “A pup?”
Relief washed over him as he nodded, the tears Izuku held back finally spilling over. “Yours. Ours.” He laughed softly through the tears, a sound cracked at the edges. “I wanted to tell you sooner. I just didn’t want to give you one more thing to carry. Not when you’d already come home carrying the weight of so many.”
Katsuki sat up slowly, his breath uneven, his eyes glass-bright as he brought his Omega to sit safely in his lap. “You thought I wouldn’t want to know, Izuku?”
“I thought,” the Prince swallowed hard. “I thought it might hurt you. To know what you could have lost. To know what you left.”
With a hitch in his voice, Katsuki closed the remaining distance between them and pulled his husband to his strong chest. He held him with the same desperation he’d fought with, as though the world itself might try to take this from him too.
“I would have crawled home across the ashes to know this,” he said, voice breaking. “You’ve given me the one thing the war never could, Izuku. A reason to fight. A reason to stay.”
His husband clung to him, the two of them shaking in the quiet room, rain still whispering beyond the window.
“I was so afraid,” Izuku confessed. “That I’d raise them alone. That our sweet little pup would grow, never knowing their sire.”
The Alpha’s hand covered his, pressing it against his heart as it beat wildly. “You will never be alone, Izuku.” He replied hoarsely. “Not while I draw breath.”
The room fell into silence again, but this time it wasn’t empty. It was full of the heartbeat beneath their palms, of the rain softening to a lull, of the fragile, trembling kind of hope that grows only after ruin.
When Katsuki grabs either side of his face, familiar and strong, Izuku is floored when that wild smile of his husband sends his stomach in a spin. “I’m gonna be a sire, we’re gonna be parents, Izuku.”
As dawn crept through the curtains, pale and uncertain, the Omega Prince leaned into him and answered back, “Yes we are. Welcome home, my love. You’ve come back to more than peace.”
-
The palace gardens were alive with laughter.
Sunlight dripped through the canopy of wisteria and fell in gold ripples across the grass where King Katsuki sat cross-legged, his crown abandoned beside him. In his lap, their pup wriggled and giggled, clutching at the tassel of his robe with tiny fists.
“She’s got your strength,” King Izuku murmured, smiling as their little one reached for a bloom overhead, fingers brushing against the petals.
His husband moved to sit beside him, his armor long since traded for linen and sunlight. “And your stubbornness,” he teased, leaning in to kiss the child’s temple. “Mahoro won’t take a nap unless someone tells her she can’t.”
The Omega sovereign laughed that soft, unguarded sound Katsuki had once thought he’d never hear again, lost to the droves of war and unrest. “Then she truly is ours.”
The baby cooed in response, and the blonde chuckled, brushing her light hair back from her tiny forehead. “You hear that, brat? Your parents are hopelessly in love and it’s all your fault.”
The new life within Izuku had to agree. Soon their oldest would be the big sister of a sweet boy.
The garden hummed with the sound of bees and distant fountains. Peace had a way of making the world louder, fuller.
Every sound mattered now. Every laugh, every sigh, every breath that wasn’t spent on goodbye.
For a long moment, they simply sat there, the three of them, framed by sunlight and the perfume of wisteria. Izuku looked down at the aged green ribbon now tied in his daughter’s light brown hair and smiled to himself.
Then the Omega King glanced toward the citadel tower, where the banners of his and Katsuki’s new family crest fluttered lazily in the breeze. “Do you remember much of the Coronation?” he asked softly. “It feels like I blacked out if I’m being completely honest.”
Katsuki cocked a wild grin. “I remember you crying more than I did.”
“I did not,” the Omega said, indignant, though his cheeks colored at the memory.
“You so did, nerd.” His Alpha murmured, brushing his hand over the healed claiming mark on Izuku’s nape. “When they crowned me as your official husband in title, as if I hadn’t been that long before they spoke it aloud.”
Instead of biting back, Izuku’s eyes softened. “It wasn’t the crown,” he said quietly, fitting his hands beneath his swollen belly. “It was the way you looked at me when they placed the crown on you. Like all the years of waiting were worth it.”
The Alpha King’s expression gentled, eyes bright with memory. “They were,” he said simply. “Every battle, every scar, every night I thought I’d never see you again, it was all worth it for this.”
The blonde’s scarred, yet gentle hands wrapped around the growing bump of his husband as he placed a small kiss on his navel.
Their daughter babbled something nonsensical then, smacking Katsuki’s chin with her tiny hand, and both of them broke into laughter.
“She disagrees,” The Alpha said through his grin.
“She’s a critic already,” Izuju replied, pressing a kiss to the child’s forehead. “Just like her Sire.”
The King’s laughter faded into something quieter, fonder. “Is this what you imagined with your life, my Omega?”
“If this is the route fate chose for us,” Izuku replied immediately, “then I want nothing more. It was all worth it.”
Katsuki looked at him, really looked, the way he always did, as if still afraid that this peace might vanish if he blinked. “You once told me forever was a promise you couldn’t believe in,” he said softly. “Do you believe in it now?”
Izuku’s gaze lingered on their child’s sleepy face, then on the man beside him, the Alpha who had once walked through fire just to come home.
“I might not believe in forever,” he said. “But, I believe in you.”
At that, his husband smiled, a quiet, reverent thing, and drew him close until their foreheads touched.
Just as they had that first morning, before the war, before the world changed.
But instead of decay and false hope, around them, the garden shimmered with light and laughter.
And as their daughter slept between them, one tiny hand curled around her father’s finger, the other resting over her sire’s heart, and the soul of her little brother growing strong in the safety of Izuku’s belly, it seemed for that fragile, perfect moment that forever might truly be possible after all.