Autumn
The windy season arrives with a vengeance, and the gales bluster with such strength, picking up to an almost violent howl during the nights. Still, it is considered among the people as a truly blessed time of harvest, highlighted by the ever changing colors of the tree leaves. Green to yellow to orange to red. A season of bounty and fruition and abundance.
Despite this, you are not feeling very abundant or fruitful or bountiful. Izuku cannot fathom the reason behind your sour disposition as of late.
"What troubles you so, Princess?" The Knight questions with a pout after enduring another evening of your sulking. "The anniversary of your birth approaches, yet you mope around the palace like a wilted lily. You used to adore this time of year."
Izuku recalls how elated you were during the weeks leading up to your sixteenth birthday. You were practically bouncing off the walls with excitement as you confided in the Squire of your elaborate scheme to release a greased hog into the banquet hall to terrorize the courtiers during your speech. Of course, Izuku was tasked with wrangling the animal for your nefarious plot. He protested for a while but ultimately did as you asked, as always. In the end, it was all worth it to hear your elated laughter as the slippery potbelly pig scurried about the dining hall sowing chaos, burrowing its snuffling snout under the skirts of many noblewomen's expensive gowns, and making noblemen shout and flee in alarm.
"Why so frightened?" You had asked with a wicked grin amidst the mayhem. "Is this not the usual company you lot keep?"
What Izuku wouldn't give to see his playful princess smirking and scheming once again. Anything would be better than this vacant melancholy look you've been wearing recently. It's breaking his spirit to see you this way!
There's no denying that you've been weary and quick to agitation as of late. It doesn't help that the green haired Knight has exhausted you with his undying optimism for the past few weeks, tirelessly planning your birthday celebration and asking your input on some of the most mundane of details. Frankly, you could not care less about colors and themes and cake flavors and guest lists even if you tried with all your might. No matter how much you try to distract yourself with your magical experimentations, you cannot stop thinking about all that will soon come to disrupt your peace.
"We are no longer children, Izuku."
He frowns. "I am well aware—"
"Are you?" You snap before reining in your misdirected anger with a heavy sigh, rubbing your temples for some much needed relief. "Forgive me, my Knight. I always find courting season to be a… sore subject."
"Courting season?" Izuku asks in confusion.
You raise a brow skeptically. The Knight avoids Court politics like the plague but still. Does he really not know? It's not exactly a topic that you wish to discuss in great detail, especially not with a common man who is free to do as he pleases with his body, with his heart. How could he ever possibly understand what is expected of someone of your station?
"Yuueii has many old traditions," you state, "but courting season is by far the worst."
The words are cryptic, but in the coming days, Izuku is able to glean your meaning.
It begins with gifts, hand delivered by messengers hailing from kingdoms near and far. Priceless jewelry and bouquets made of pure gemstones that the Knight could never hope to acquire even with his comfortable soldier's salary.
"Fake flowers," you'd scoffed. "How utterly thoughtless."
Then the letters start arriving, curly calligraphy waxing poetic and painting a romantic dreamlike fantasy. Or a series of lies written by hired help, given that most of these "swooning suitors" couldn't even be bothered to pen their own signature. It's easy to ignore the empty gestures. Although the true irony is that the Queen is suddenly more upbeat and energetic than she has been in months, while you remain impassive and unappeased as the hellish fiasco continues.
After all, it is only just beginning.
You are on the balcony in your chambers enjoying the crisp afternoon air, doting over your fussiest hydrangea when the city gate opens for a train of horse drawn carriages. When you were a lass, it would only be a few, but now there is a traffic jam on the Pearl Boulevard with the amount of foreign nobility entering your nation. A veritable siege of bachelors approaches. The sight makes your stomach churn. Briefly, you consider making a mad dash to hide in the crypt or even stowing away on a merchant ship at port. You've always wondered what a life at sea would be like.
But alas, your chambermaids burst into your room not even a moment later, snatching you up with an intensity that rivals the winds outside in preparation for an impromptu banquet.
Ochako is not amongst them, since you had her reassigned recently. You feel a strange wave of guilt. After all it was no fault of her own, and she was quite skilled at her job. However it was impossible to look the maiden in her eyes daily, knowing you were using Izuku to suit your own needs whenever the urge arose— which was more and more frequently with how stressed you have been lately. Riding his face and his fingers, biting into his neck until he bruises and bleeds.
You'd left for half a decade and returned just to ruin him, to claim him. The Princess who had everything and still wanted more, surely Ochako would think. And perhaps you were being greedy… but when it came to the Knight you simply couldn't help yourself. As long as you remained Princess, you would continue to take all that Izuku was willing to give, keeping his affections close to your heart so that they may last a lifetime.
After bathing you are dressed and styled immaculately, heels clicking on the marble floor as you make your way to the banquet hall. The vast space is decorated in your favorite colors and flowers while a string quartet plays a vaguely familiar romantic tune. You spy many crowns, more than you've ever seen in one place, before your eyes land on the Queen. It is a testament of your skills that you manage to remain pretty and poised despite your bubbling discontent as you glide over to your mother who speaks conspiratorially with the Ruler of Flames himself, King Enji.
"Ah, speaking of troublesome first borns," the Queen snipes as you approach. "King Enji, please enjoy the feast, we will continue our discussion at a later date."
"Princess," King Enji tips his head to you with a wolfish grin that makes you shiver in distaste long after he departs.
Enji Todoroki, the King of Fiore, the Land of Fire and Ice. A not so distant, vastly wealthy kingdom with its own unique history and gods and of course, heaps of royal drama. The most popular newsletter in Yuueii, The Pearlescent Pages, reports on all the juicy rumors and details involving the nobility both domestic and abroad. You would never dream of perusing such mindless drivel— so you have Izuku read it to you by hearth light while you feed the both of you fruits and cheese. Between the exiled eldest son and rumors of the King's abusive tendencies, the Todoroki household leaves much to be desired. If your mother is truly consorting with the flaming monarch, then it can mean nothing good for you.
"Mother dearest, why didn't you inform me that we were hosting guests tonight?" You ask venomously sweet.
"I didn't want my darling daughter wandering off," the Queen replies coolly.
Damn she's still got it. Your eyes narrow, and she meets your glare with a triumphant grin. The old woman has you in a bind. If you cause a scene here and now in front of all these people, then it would only prove that you haven't matured, that you are still a bratty princess who needs her mother to make all of her decisions— such as the arrangements of your betrothal. Your only choice is to go along with this farce while keeping a level head. Behind the Queen, Sir All Might and Izuku, both dressed in their fine formal military jackets, send you sympathetic glances. Remarkably, the dark purple splotches peeking from Izuku's collar bring you to some semblance of calm.
"Very well," you mutter begrudgingly. "Come along, Knight."
"That will not be necessary," the Queen stops him. "We wouldn't want your lapdog scaring off your future husband!"
Lapdog?! You and Izuku think with matching shocked expressions. Is it possible that the Queen knows just how… close you two are? Behind Her Highness, the Knight begins to sweat while Sir All Might laughs heartily. Before suffering further embarrassment, you reluctantly head off to perform your duty.
You take your seat at the center table, on a raised platform in the middle of the ballroom that overlooks the surrounding dance floor. The area is like a gazebo, decorated with glowshrooms and winding vine covered trellises. But to you it feels like a beautifully ornamented birdcage, trapping you from flying freely.
The first person to approach you is a servant, with a bottle of wine and a sparkling crystal glass. You internally thank the goddess, then notice it is Ochako. It's been a while since you've seen her.
"You look lovely in your serving dress," you say as she fills your glass. "How is the change in scenery?"
Her chocolate brown eyes meet yours briefly. "I-It's good…! The kitchen staff are all very kind."
You pout as you detect the lie after knowing her for so many years. "Curses, you hate it, don't you? I'm sorry, Ochako."
"No, Your Majesty, it's just… I'm not the best cook, and sometimes I drop things— expensive things!"
You chuckle as she visibly frets just thinking about it. "Is there somewhere else you'd prefer to work?" The light in her eyes dances despite her hesitation. "Tell me, and I'll make it happen."
You watch her gaze shift over to Sir Tenya as he converses with a couple foreign military men. "I-I always wanted to be a soldier, but my folks thought it unladylike."
Your eyes widen. "I never knew that! What is your weapon of choice?"
"The quarter staff," Ochako says proudly. "The weapon of the people. You need only a stick to protect yourself! Sir Izuku and a few others helped train me."
You wonder how else he helped her, trained her, before shaking the thought away. "I'll happily sponsor you. Shattering gender norms, enraging parents, 'tis all very on brand for me."
The petite woman envelops you in a hug with a teary thanks, and your heart warms for her. Even if you cannot escape your ill fate, you'll do all you can to save as many others from theirs. Now you have someone else to root for in next year's Tournament Games. You watch Ochako fondly as she attends to other guests, and your keen eyes notice her stealing glances often at Sir Tenya throughout the evening. And you catch the way the tall bespectacled man blushes when she refills his glass, in spite of his stiff attempts at hiding it. How interesting…
"So it's true what they say," muses a deep monotone voice. "The Rebel Princess who is unnaturally fond of the help."
Your face falls impassively, and you turn your head away from the source as the man sits at your table without invitation. So it begins. Although you've been coerced into being here, that doesn't mean you have to participate in the tomfoolery. You've already decided to ignore any advances made this evening, a silent form of protest. The man continues unbothered.
"I have a proposition for you," he says. "Something mutually beneficial, to appease both of our overbearing, meddlesome parents. If you are interested, then we can discuss the details at the racetrack tomorrow at noon."
Somehow you manage not to scoff. Who does this guy think he is? Asking to escort you with such a cavalier attitude, as if he's discussing the weather.
Yet just as quickly as he arrived, you sense him leaving your table. Curiously, you glance over at the two toned hair, the ruby and sapphire encrusted crown as the man retreats. After Prince Shouto survived approaching you and facing no apparent backlash or mischievous consequence, more of the noblemen try their luck. There are many attempts to get a reaction out of you; the bachelors try everything from gushing compliments to belittling negging.
Your expression remains bored as you continue your vow of silence, although you can't help but wonder about this proposition offered by the youngest scion of Fiore. Typically the eldest child is next in line for the throne, but since Shouto was blessed with both fire and ice magic from his parents, it is rumored that he would be the next ruler. So why is he even here? It's puzzling.
"…And so naturally I had them all sacked!" The man seated across from you (Lord Yo, you think he said?) cackles. "Did you hear me, Princess? Princess??? P—"
"Apologies for the interruption," Izuku cuts in suddenly, and you turn towards his voice instinctively. The Knight extends his hand to you with wide eyes. "Your Majesty, there is an urgent matter that needs your attention in the greenhouse. It would seem the carnivorous plants have grown peckish—"
"No, my babies!" You're already on your feet, grasping his hand and gathering your skirts in the other as he hurries you out of the ballroom and into the hall. The music and chatter of the banquet quickly fade into nothingness as the two of you dash away through the palace.
Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you ramble frantically. "How could this happen? They've been behaving so well! I bet it was that moonflower stirring up trouble again—"
Izuku chuckles. "No moonflowers were involved, I assure you."
"Hm?" You look around bemused. "This isn't the way to the greenhouse."
"Truth be told… I lied to help you escape for a few moments." The Knight rubs the back of his neck bashfully as he leads you into the quiet library. "I figure they'd sooner search the neighboring kingdoms than think to find you in here."
"Ha ha," you say dryly. "I am very well read."
"Botanical books don't count," he replies easily as the two of you get lost amongst the rows of towering bookshelves.
You flash a genuine grin for the first time that night, unbothered by his teasing. "Well, it seems you've learned a thing or two from me in the art of trickery. Color me impressed!"
The pair perch upon a cushioned reading nook overlooked by a massive stained glass window depicting a large tree with deep roots. The musty smell of old books hangs in the air, but it's not wholly unpleasant. Compared to the noise of the ballroom, this silence is quite peaceful. You admire the view outside while Izuku subtly admires you in the reflection of the colorful glass.
"If you were not a Knight," you ask suddenly, "what would you be?"
"Hmm… perhaps a farmer?" Izuku thinks. "Maybe a baker to satiate my bread lust."
You picture his boyish features sprinkled with flour, his broad shoulders and large forearms juxtaposed by a tiny apron and chuckle in agreement. "Yes, you do have a certain warmth to you."
He seems pleased to hear you say that, if the reddening of his ears is anything to go by. "And if you were not the Princess? Your magic is powerful, but I simply can't imagine you as a woman of the cloth."
The two of you share a giggle at the ludicrous idea. As much as you love your arborturgy, living a life consisting only of prayer and shrine tending would be so incredibly dull. You could still be happy without magic or your crown, but there is someone you can't bear to think of losing from your life again.
You look at him with a weak, wobbly smile. Izuku gently brushes a thumb over your cheek, wiping a stray tear away as easily as breathing air. There are bound to be plenty of people looking for you by now, but no one has ever looked at you the way that Izuku does. Even a blind man could see that the Knight is enamored with you. His green eyes always full to bursting with pure adoration. You wonder if he can see it too, when he looks in your eyes. If he can hear the words that you dare not speak.
Nothing else would matter, as long as I could be me with you.
"We should be heading back," you say instead.
The Knight's brows furrow, but he nods and leads you back to the ballroom.
Immediately you are bombarded upon your return. A Duke asks how your carnivorous plants fare. You tell him that you don't mind feeding him to one in order to find out. He leaves you be after that, and you grab a glass of wine before making your way to the balcony for some air.
The evening is chilly, and the wind something vicious, but you can endure it in exchange for solitude. You lean against the railing, overlooking your kingdom. Commoners move about the Pearl Boulevard in relaxed, unhurried strides. The nobility think them so powerless, but what could be more powerful than having agency over your own life? That if you don't like your job, you can pursue another. If you don't like your hometown, you can pick up and move. Surely it is not that simple, especially for the impoverished, but—
"Sticking to wine tonight, Your Graceless?" Duchess Camie smirks from the balcony entrance, disturbing your thoughts. "Or did you fill up on tavern swill before this?"
That actually would've been a good idea; at least you'd have a decent buzz going by now. A lamenting sigh before you turn with your signature smile. "With that attitude it's no wonder you've yet to be chosen."
The noblewoman sneers from behind her flute of champagne. She's always been rather easy to rile up, but something seems different in her ire this evening. "How easy for you to proclaim. You are the only child of the Queen herself. Some of us are second sons and third daughters— entitled to nothing!! I have only seen twenty five years, yet this is most likely my last season!"
The Duchess draws closer, voice raising with her building passion. With a wave of your hand, you enchant the nearby vines to extend and weave, completely blocking the entrance to the banquet from sight, muffling her sound from any listening ears. If this is truly Camie's last courting season, then it'd be damning for anyone to witness this incoming whirlwind. And with the autumnal winds scattering her cinnamon tresses, you know there is no stopping Hurricane Camie. Discretion is the least you can offer her.
"This is my last opportunity to secure a comfortable future for myself," she continues. "There are so many bachelors here— looking for you , and you've got the nerve to be snubbing them, ignoring them! Just reject them outright so the rest of us can fight for your table scraps like the pedigreed dogs that we are. You are the Princess, you will always be sought after!"
Her words feel like a curse upon your ears. "Why are you even buying into this despicable, dehumanizing charade?" You question. "Before I left you bragged nonstop about joining the Opera, traveling the world and becoming a star—"
"I FAILED, alright, is that what you wish to hear?" The flute in her hands cracks along with her voice as she clutches it tightly, cutting her hand on the broken glass. A bubbly mix of blood and champagne drip down her palm onto the stone floor. "For years I auditioned, and for years I fell short. Do you realize how humiliating it is to be bested by common filth?"
You clasp Camie's hand tight, digging the glass shards deep into both of your palms. "And what of it? Perhaps you were never destined to be on stage, but you said that you loved the Opera, that it was the only thing that mattered to you. If you really love something, then you should grasp onto it as tight as you can and never let it go!"
Your eyes take a good look at your longtime Court nemesis. In a world where everyone smiles in your face and spins beautiful lies to get into the Princess's good graces, you had always respected the Duchess for her ability to tell you how she really felt— even if the blow was softened by the required honeyed language. Her gown is not the most expensive, but it is beautifully detailed and clearly well kept. She has always managed to shine in her own right.
"Design the costumes or the sets or simply promote the shows," you insist. "If you truly love the Opera, then it shouldn't matter as long as you are as close as you possibly can be to that which makes your heart pound, that which makes life worth living."
Camie stews in thoughtful silence as you use your handkerchief to carefully remove the glass shards from her delicate palm. When you produce a flask from your gown, she looks at you dubiously. "A little stronger than tavern swill," you offer by way of explanation, using the alcohol to clean her cuts. She winces from the sting, but you ignore it since you are sworn enemies, right? The handkerchief works well as a makeshift bandage. She asks if you learned that in the jungle, and you hum an affirmative.
"I could put in a good word for you at the theater," you say as you walk past her when you finish dressing her wound, turning your back to the noblewoman.
"As if I would ever accept charity from you," Camie scoffs, but it lacks its usual bite. "Whatever the case… I will forge my own path."
You smirk behind her back. "Of course, Duchess, I expected nothing less."
Careful to hide your own bloody hand behind your back, you urge the vines to part as you make your way back to the banquet. There are numerous eyes on your form as you wind through the crowd, heading straight for the two toned Prince of Fiore. Shouto looks at you blankly, only raising a brow in question.
You squeeze your fist, feeling the broken glass shards cut deep. "The horse track. Tomorrow. It's a date."
***
Just before dawn, Izuku receives a summons to the gardens where you sat waiting for him at a wrought iron table for two, setup with a steaming tray of tea and flaky breakfast pastries.
Despite the dim light, he finds you enchanting, although you do appear troubled. Your brow is creased in deep contemplation until you notice the green haired man approaching and flash a grin. You rise to greet Izuku with a warm hug and a kiss to his freckled cheek before pouring and serving the fragrant, flowery tea.
"Why so early, Princess?" The Knight asks worriedly. "You've rested haven't you?"
His caring nature makes your tummy flutter. "I have some business to attend to today, but I wanted to watch the sunrise with you."
The Knight turns bashful and pink, smiling at you with an air of innocence that such a deadly warrior should not be able to possess. He is tall and broad like a mighty oak, but inside he is saccharine sweet as tree sap. It reminds you how delicately you must navigate this dialogue. Your fingers trace the already healing cuts on your palm as you speak the next words.
"As youths, we swore to be companions forever," you both chuckle at the memory; your pinkies linked while you promised as much to one another, where only the wildflowers could bear witness. "But… we are both full grown now, and things are so different, so needlessly complicated. Truly, I wish—"
"I think I know what you're hinting at," Izuku interjects, taking your hand and interlocking your fingers. His beautiful green eyes are bright as the first orange rays of the sun begin to show. "Sir All Might explained the significance of courtship rituals to me. Trust that I understand you must fulfill your duties as Princess. Even if you get married… we will always be the closest, the very best of friends!"
After all no one could ever know you as intimately as he does, right? No one could ever replace him as your trusted ally, your confidant, your Knight. Right?
He speaks so sincerely, voice dripping with devotion in a way that utterly disarms you. You attempt to regain control of the conversation. "My dear Knight—"
"I-I know that I'm just a commoner," he mumbles, "and a foreigner in your land at that. I can't give you anything that you could not provide for yourself. But I would move mountains and fell armies in pursuit of your happiness, Princess. If there is ever a fight for your affections… then I, I can't help but compete!" He declares with determination usually reserved for the battlefield.
"Izuku," you breathe, flustered and wide eyed by his sudden heartfelt confession.
"I-I want to throw my hat in the ring," he continues, rambling now. "I mean, I don't wear hats— y-you know that, I don't really have the hair for it, but…"
Your light and airy laughter causes him to trail off, and the man blooms crimson with embarrassment. Izuku silently curses himself. He's ruined it, once again he's put his foot in his mouth, he's—
"You always find a way to amaze me," you giggle and shake your head, looking at him with joyous, sparkling eyes. "Gods above, you've stolen all of my thunder."
He remains in stunned silence as you reach into your gown. You reveal the bunny figurine that he crafted for you all those years ago, elated at the way his eyes widen. The rosewood surface has been painted like a mural, depicting a dense forest, a winding river, a cascading waterfall, and a rocky cavern. A rabbit shaped map of the Infyrm Jungle, a bridge connecting the gap that separated your intertwined lives. The man is speechless as he absorbs every detail.
"I know that I ask so much of you," you say, continuing quickly when he tries to object. "However if we walk this path together… it will no doubt be a journey that ultimately ends in tragedy. You have already given so much for me, for my people, for my kingdom," you express, looking at the scars along his body. "But my worst fear, Izu darling, is being the cause of more scars… on your kind heart, where they cannot so easily be healed or forgotten."
Izuku thinks of the first time you'd seen his scars, when you were both still so young and naive of the true nature of this world. Back then there were only a few, healing nicks and cuts smattering along his back and torso from his training with the other soldiers. He'd tried to hide them from you, but a single day at the beach ultimately revealed his secret to you. The Squire had been horrified, fearing you'd think his damaged skin ugly and unsightly. But you'd only smiled as you caressed the marks, saying that they were signs of a budding hero and protector of your land, that you were honored to have such a dutiful Squire. He recites for you now the same words that he'd said that day.
"Then I will wear them with pride."
Your cheeks warm as the memory washes over you as well. Of course a man as brave and selfless as he would accept the terms regardless of the risk. "I wanted to say all this in the open, in the daylight," you confess. "It's important to me that you know my feelings for you are not solely impure. Despite what we may do in the dark, I truly adore the way you look in the light."
Izuku flushes, running a scarred hand down his reddened face and whining, "Princess… you shouldn't say such things…"
"Why not?" You ask with a teasing grin. "Even if our courtship must remain a close guarded secret, I have every intention of wooing you. After all, the goal is to capture your heart."
The Knight looks away, to the myriad of colors that pour from the horizon line as you admire him unabashedly. The sunrise is beautiful, but you wholeheartedly believe he is the true work of art to be appreciated.
"You accomplished that long ago," he whispers in the wind.
Autumn leaves rustle in the breeze, scarlet and orange and gold in the daybreak. Even so, you think green is still the most prolific color. The seeds of your ardor were planted long ago, and now you can finally harvest the fruits of your labor. You think you have waited long enough for a proper taste.
Your main concern is how long it will take for the soil to turn barren once more…
Winter
The first sprinkling of white, like stardust falling from the heavens down to earth, signals the start of the snowy season. A time of rest and recovery, when there are few crops to tend that can withstand the bitter cold and more opportunities to spend with loved ones. The people of Yuueii bundle up in thick layers, and most only leave the warmth of their homes when absolutely necessary. Snow blankets the rooftops and treetops indiscriminately, adding a certain shiny sparkle to the kingdom.
As the weather becomes colder and harsher, the Queen's condition worsens. Her Highness spends less and less time on the throne, more inclined to rest in bed as per the doctors' orders. If she does leave her chambers, then it's only to pore over the map in the War Council room, whispering with Sir All Might and a few other military advisors.
Whenever you inquire about her symptoms or what you can do to help, the Queen manages to redirect the conversation to you and your unwed status. The sickly woman's sole focus is procuring an heir to the throne— as if you are not young and in good health! It is utterly maddening, especially when Her Highness turns away your herbal remedies and magical concoctions, claiming that she will leave this world only when she is good and ready. Her stubbornness knows no bounds.
You try to pick up the slack wherever you can, meeting with delegates and signing off on trade agreements in her stead. It feels as though you are interim Queen, with much of the responsibility yet lacking the due respect from the Royal Court that comes with the title. During this time you exist in a strange and unsettling limbo that only further exacerbates your unease.
Your rapidly dwindling free time is spent in the greenhouse, and thankfully the heated space remains comfortable year round. Although a small part of you knows she will continue to refuse treatment, you work tirelessly with the aid of arborturgy to find a cure for what ails the Queen. Izuku often finds you asleep at your worktable in the greenhouse well into the wee hours of the frigid night, dutifully carrying you back to your chambers for a decent rest.
The Knight fears that you will work yourself to death trying to keep your mother alive when the Queen has long since made peace with her imminent mortality. He is a warrior, intimately familiar with death, and even more so with those who have stared it in the face. But you too are stubborn, snapping at the poor green haired man occasionally along with anyone else who dares disturb you and your delicate magical practices. You will not yield.
Finally, when the snowdrift is many inches thick, and you've labored for over twenty four hours on end, you think you have compounded a solution. You rush to the royal chambers, clutching the vial of green liquid with the tenderness one would save for a newborn child. There is trepidation within you but also budding excitement. This could work!
When you enter her room, the Queen is propped up on her pillows composing a letter. You hide the bottle behind your back as you draw near, spying the still steaming tea set on her nightstand. How fortuitous.
"How are you feeling, Mother?" You inquire.
"I live and breathe, yet I see no sign of grandchildren," she gripes. "I doubt you would wait for marriage, and Prince Shouto is far too young to be impotent." She eyes your midsection. "The planted seed should be at least sprouting by now."
You visibly cringe. "Please, Mother, spare me your crackpot theories. I'll pour you some tea, it's best to drink while hot."
She lapses into silence, probably too weak to fight you on the matter. You make idle chitchat as you sneakily pour the medicinal solution into her teacup, using sleight of hand to disguise the action. She continues to rant after you pass her the concoction, and you try not to eye the porcelain in her weathered hands as she brings it up to her lips before lowering it to continue speaking. You do not hear a word. The Queen sniffs the teacup and grimaces, and it takes all your willpower not to restrain the woman and force the scalding liquid down her throat.
"Making me queasy," she complains. "Don't like it."
"Finish one cup, and I'll leave you be," you insist.
"No," the Queen replies stubbornly. "I don't want it, won't like it."
The irony of her childish behavior as you scold her like a parent is not at all lost on you. You want to rip your hair out but try for patience once more. "Please, Mother, it'll make you feel better."
The Queen looks you in the eyes, and a chill runs through you almost like you do not recognize her at all. She tosses the porcelain teacup onto the floor where it shatters, splashing hot liquid onto the hem of your gown. The medicine you so painstakingly worked to craft is thoroughly wasted.
"You… wretched hag!" The words tumble from your lips uncontrollably. "Damn you! You prevented me from seeing the King in his last moments, ordering me to remain in the jungle even when my father was being put into the ground! And now with your dying breaths you push me away!! Why—?!"
"Guards!" She calls, as though you've assaulted her. "Take her away! Guards!"
"Damn you!" You scream and shout to be heard as the footmen drag you out of the room. "I'll never forgive you for this! Never!!"
You could not know how the Queen wept as you were carted away. That, in her own roundabout way, she was trying to shield you. Perhaps if she shouldered her burdens rather than acting as a martyr, events could've transpired differently…? The enchanted vines in your bedchambers trembled as you raged, shattering glasses and upending furniture in a blind fury. You cursed her name, her very existence.
You had no way of knowing that the Queen would not wake up the next day. She passed in her sleep, a relatively peaceful way to go despite it all.
Hopeless and hapless as you were, the simple act of leaving your bed proved arduous and daunting. Your handmaidens assisted you with basic tasks that you'd normally insist on doing yourself. But in your state of grief, even the most mundane undertakings proved to be impossible.
The days that followed were a blur.
The burial rites felt like a bad dream that you were unable to wake from. You recall the sea of black flowers and clothing, the pitiful looks and countless condolences. Even the customary mourning fruit of pomegranate tasted like nothing more than ash on your tongue. Izuku was there for you as best he could be, but it was obvious to the Knight that you were not truly present, despite the mask you wore. A smile, not too big, not too small, well practiced and vital to ensure the members of the Court would be at ease during this tentative transitional period.
But who would look after you in your time of need?
After the feast in honor of the late Queen (where you poked at your plate and could barely hold conversation), you retired to your chambers. Izuku took it upon himself to stand guard at your door, until he heard the unmistakable sound of your groans and grunts of frustration. He poked his head into your chambers, only to see you struggling to take off your complicated strappy heels.
"Stupid, stupid," you grumbled to yourself.
The Knight did not think of decorum when he entered your room, only that you were in a state of distress. Izuku wordlessly dropped to his knees before you and patiently undid the elaborate ties to remove your shoes.
You only sobbed, tugging at your hair. "Pathetic… shameful. I can't do anything right, can I?" A wet, cynical, self deprecating laugh followed.
With gentle hands, Izuku took yours in his to stop your hair pulling. "Please don't speak ill of my Princess."
The title always sounded like a term of endearment when it came from the Knight's lips, but soon he would no longer be able to refer to you as such. You stare at the crackling fire in the hearth as apathy bleeds into your depressive state. The night is so quiet and so very cold.
"Alone," you whisper. "I am all alone now."
"That isn't true," Izuku sits beside you on the chaise, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "I am right here, Your Majesty. I will always be by your side."
His words cut through the fog in your mind. It may be dark and cold now, but Izuku has always been your light, your warmth. You turn to him, and he is already looking to you as always. He wipes your tears tenderly. Your foreheads press together, and you run your thumb over the scar down his face before placing a chaste kiss to the mark, then his freckles, then his lips. The young man breathes shakily when you straddle his lap pressing slow, sensual kisses to his neck, pawing at his chest with need. Your hips roll into his, and the Knight groans.
"Princess," Izuku gasps. "Perhaps now is not, ngh , the best time…"
You are still in your mourning gown after all, dressed all in black and surely not thinking with a clear head. He treasures these intimate moments with you, but Izuku would never want to take advantage of your emotional state. Although if anything, it is you who knows how to manipulate him into doing your bidding. Those three little words that you know he cannot resist slip from your lips without preamble.
" I need you , my Knight," you plead. "Please, make me feel good, take the pain away."
A shuddering exhale as Izuku places his hands on your hips, positioning you over his flexed, muscular thigh. "A-Alright, Princess, I'll take care of you." He maneuvers you against him easily, helping you grind down onto his thigh. You focus only on the steady rhythm of your thrusts, the building friction, and the sound of his low, rumbling voice. "That's it, just like that… No more tears, just wanna make that pretty little pussy cry."
He has become so vocal, and it was a (rather pleasant) surprise realizing the humble man had such a filthy mouth. You moan and curse, tugging his hair to pull him into a searing kiss. For days you've had a diluted sense of taste, but Izuku is just as sweet and tantalizing and addicting as the first time your tongues danced together. Your lips lock until your lungs burn and you're forced to part for air, a string of saliva keeping you connected until you whimper when he presses his thigh up into your wet cunt harder.
" Hah , leakin' all over me… even through your petticoats," he pants breathlessly, pressing you against him harder, kissing at your jaw. "Wanna cum? Wanna make a mess for me? Hmm?"
"Yes, yes," you whimper, teetering on the edge. "Just for you."
Your words go straight to the hardness straining and twitching in his formalwear. Izuku has to bite back a moan at the feeling of your arousal soaking through the fabric despite the layers between you. With great discipline he reminds himself that this is about you, for you. The Knight flicks and pulls on your nipples through your dress.
"Go ahead, Princess," he urges. "Cum for me. Wanna feel you."
He speaks the words like a command, and you have no choice but to comply. Gasping and choking on air as your whole body trembles with the force of your undoing. You are somehow rigid yet limp in his embrace, soiling his fancy clothes in your wet. He sings your praises.
"Goddess! S-So good! Such a good little lady," Izuku moans. "Another one, yeah? You'll give me another, won't you, Princess?"
You try to protest, but words fail you as the Knight snakes his hands beneath the layers of your skirts. His large palms knead into the meat of your ass and thighs appreciatively. Something hot and hard and thick and long presses against your thigh, and you shift in his lap until it sits against your clit deliciously. You both shudder and sigh at the feeling. With newfound strength you grind onto his length, reveling in the way Izuku's eyes roll back.
"N-No," Izuku whines weakly, fingers digging into your plush hips. "Can't have that. Not yet. Not like this."
"Hit me then." The Knight hesitates before you feel his palm smack against your ass. "Harder," you demand. "Make it hurt."
You cry out when his hand cracks down on the soft expanse of your asscheek. He rubs and soothes the sting, jade eyes watching you carefully as he slowly ruts up into your cunt. He can feel your wetness, can practically hear your little flower begging to be stuffed full and abused and thoroughly ruined by his weeping cock. It's driving him to the brink of insanity in the most delicious way. Again and again Izuku spanks your ass harshly as you fuck on each other despite the pesky layers of clothing in the way.
When he feels you gushing over his lap once more, directly on his clothed length, the man turns just shy of feral. Izuku easily flips your positions, slotting himself between your legs to rut against you with wild abandon. The Knight buries his face in your neck, and you can hear every desperate whimper and moan as he chases after his own high, begging you for "just one more? Please, please, cum with me, just once more."
Everything fades away when you reach your peak as Izuku spills his load into his trousers, the both of you hot and sticky and sweaty from exertion. The tension in your muscles is all gone by the time you come back down to earth as the Knight mumbles into your skin that he's got you, that he's here, will always be here for you.
***
Unsurprisingly, you are not magically cured by a few earth shattering orgasms. It most certainly didn't hurt though!
The Royal Court ripples with rumors, and Izuku acts as a guard dog warding off anyone who tries to pressure you into returning to your duties prematurely. But you assure the Knight that it is inevitable and to be expected.
You look stunning on your coronation day, dressed and styled exactly to your liking. Izuku cannot take his eyes off of you throughout the lengthy ceremony. Lord Aizawa, the man who schooled you to the best of his abilities, is the one who performs the ritual and places your new crown upon your head. The golden coronet is significantly heavier than your tiara ever was; the weight of your newfound responsibility bearing down upon you.
One of your first acts as reigning Queen is appointing Izuku as Head of the Royal Guard. Sir All Might served your late mother for the majority of his military career and welcomes retirement with open arms. Despite the whispers from the Court, he declares Izuku more than worthy of wielding One For All. You need the assistance of arborturgy to even lift the legendary broadsword for the knighting ceremony.
"Do you swear to protect the crown and the kingdom with your life?" You recite.
The Knight looks up at you from where he rests on one knee. "Yes, my Queen, I do."
A shiver runs through your whole body. Perhaps you could get used to this after all.
As the snow melts and Spring awaits just around the corner, the kingdom of Yuueii sits with bated breath. Every year offers the promise of new beginnings, but there is no denying that the future is unclear. With a new Queen and the loss of their longtime Symbol of Peace, the people must wonder: what could this new era bring?