Chapter 25 – Salt, Earthenware and Fruit
Her majesty, the two hundred and third queen of Lasandu, Ochaco Uraraka, awoke on the day after her marriage in the mid-afternoon. This was a direct consequence of her having gone to bed only in the mid-morning, and though she had slept for quite some time, she still felt near-exhausted.
She had spent the night and the early morning cleaning her own castle by candle-light, aided by her friends and new husband, and had only stumbled to bed once the floors were swept and the tables cleaned and the carpets dusted and the candles put in the treasury to use another time. Presently, she was reminded of this work by her stiff shoulders, which fulminated against their use.
Uraraka stood, stretching, in the square patch of afternoon sunlight that glowed before her window and groggily contemplated what to do next.
The day ahead of her (or what remained of it) seemed both overwhelmingly full and terrifyingly empty. Without the strict schedule of a festival or a marriage to direct her actions, time yawned hungrily. It was no longer a matter of days or weeks, but that of seasons, years; her youth, her life. What should she do?
She was married now, after all, a queen and regent. She could rewrite the laws of the land as she so wished, if she so wished; she had all of Lasandu in her hands – but the responibility was heavy as it sat on her palms. Everything was up to her, and though she was a queen, a wife, she felt no different to the child she had been the day before.
What should she have expected? Wasn't this what she had wanted?
There was no time to dawdle now over insecurity, no room for hesitance when she had dreamed of this moment for so long. She was a queen and a wife and a child, and perhaps each of those pieces of herself would be necessary in the days ahead.
She hop-skip-jumped into her day clothes and headed down-stairs.
XXX
Uraraka spent her afternoon in the dusty library with Yaoyorozu. They picked peeling tomes from bookshelves of dizzying heights, taking notes from them and writing scribbled corrections in the margins when they found the need.
They first revised the royal inheritance laws, making simple changes so that a prospective prince or princess might in future be able to influence royal affairs, then moved swiftly on to adapt ownership rights. They temporarily lowered the ages of a wide range of proprietorship laws to accommodate for Lasandu's population of unusually young independents, whom had thus far not had legal claim to their own houses or inheritances, and temporarily suspended child labour laws to give the entrepreneurs of the city the leeway that they needed. She further planned to reduce sales and trade-related taxes (these had, in any case, not been collected since the passing of the old queen and king), but found by that time that the afternoon had escaped her, and resolved to continue by the light of tomorrow's day. Candles to read by, unlike common lanterns, were in short supply, and very dear, so she could not afford to work during the evening.
The swirling indigo of night had already sedimented in the halls when dined for dinner. She (and Yaoyorozu and Kirishima) ate ravenously, having waited long and patiently for the others to return, whilst the king, his companions, and the queen's knights ate very little but talked as though it was all they could do.
The sole light of the room, the crackling hearth's fire, lit up the plains of Iida's armour and broke off into flaring refractions that dappled the skins of the children of the table. Shadows, somehow warmer than they had been before, hid behind Bakugou's ears and Ashido's jaw, and the low hum of snow settling outside permeated deep beneath the skin.
It was unnaturally cosy.
Uraraka wondered whether the people seated around her were even doing it on purpose. They all knew, secretly, that they had not remained in that grand, gaping castle together out of any great platonic love. They all knew, deep down, that their unspoken agreement to stay was born of distrust, that they slept beside each other for fear of treachery in the night.
And yet the atmosphere was soft, and the words between them were gentle. The forbearance displayed by Iida and Midoriya seemed so natural that it was damning.
Once the meal was over, she was the last one to wash her bowl and spoon. The others bid her goodnight and filed out up the steps one by one, and she remained by the sink and pump, rolling up her sleeves until she had waved them all away.
Finally, she was alone again. Alone and unhurried enough not to concern herself with anything but the running water and the rough texture of the bowl in her hands. Tomorrow her duties as queen would resume, and she would have to worry once more where to find her next meal. But tomorrow was hours away, hours of restful sleep to wrap her like summer cotton, and for now the weight of it was lifted from her shoulders. She was pleasantly sleepy.
She hummed a peasant's song as she rinsed her bowl, then shook it and put it to dry. The notes were lengthened by her weariness, petering off at the end, and she couldn't be sure if they were right or wrong.
A baritone hum echoed from the scullery stairs, correcting her. She turned and found Bakugou, perched on the last step.
She straightened out instinctively. It was hard to see him in the gloom, but the orange glow of the fire set his pale hair as red as burning wheat.
"Oh, hello." She said, because she couldn't think what else to say.
He didn't reply.
"Can I… help you?" she asked quietly, although she didn't really want to help him with anything that would hinder her journey to bed.
"No." he replied instantly. He seemed surprised by his own answer, and a frown pulled at his features as he swore under his breath. "No, fuck, hang on, that's not what I meant."
He ran a hand through his red-tinged hair and pulled the mane of his cloak as he walked towards her.
"I meant, like," He stood before her, and the blush of the hearth emblazoned him further, roaring into the swell of his cheeks and the horns of his ears. He was an effigy of carved carnelian, stiff and unreadable "can I- is there a way that I can help you?"
She knew the answer to the question. She was a girl with an outstanding sense of practicality, after all, and she had long since formed a list in her head of things that needed doing.
But she didn't answer straight away.
Maybe it was just her fatigue. Maybe it was nothing at all. But the rasp in his voice as he said it, the uncertainty, the rubies of his eyes, almost hidden in the red of the fire, turned to the floor- a hundred little things about that warm spring evening stopped her heart for just a second.
"Yes," she said, and after a pause she realised that she was embarrassed to be caught off guard "yes, many things. Can you read ancient Lasandunian?"
"No."
"Do you think you might be able to learn?"
He clicked his tongue.
"I can do anything I want to, cheeks."
XXX
The next day, Uraraka did not find Bakugou in the kitchen when she came down for breakfast. Nor did she find him training in the courtyard with Kirishima. Instead, to her surprise, she found him already in the library with Yaoyorozu, slouching over a book in the corner.
He grunted a greeting to her whilst Yaoyorozu brightly wished her a good morning, and the disparity between their intonations implied a strange sort of competition. Though their previously-unnoticed relationship piqued her interest, she reasoned that she had more important matters to attend to, and proceeded to do just that.
Books were taken off of shelves, scanned, stacked, labelled, re-written, re-ordered and re-shelved. Taxes were reduced and import duties were lowered. Plans to subsidise the farmers of the winelands were structured and price limits were placed on various essential goods. Yaoyorozu's expert calculations were applied to all corners of Lasandunian life, and the efficiency of every fait de vie was questioned.
But naturally it was impossible for the pair of girls to keep up their roaring pace. As the scraps of drafted paper and estimated figures piled up so too did the confusion and error. Every slip-up birthed further mistakes. Even the most minor discrepancy between two sentences required a full investigation, and often the roots of their problems could be traced back to a single spelling mistake or unmultiplied number. When reaching for the heavier tomes one occasionally came crashing from the bookshelf onto their unguarded feet, adding to their pain and frustration.
By the mid-afternoon their speed had slowed to a near standstill, and each of them had settled in silence to read.
Uraraka flicked back and forth between two pages of the 'Moste Importunate Booke of Surveighs of the Mountaigne's Producktiv Lande' and sighed deeply. The writing of the ancestor responsible for the book was almost completely illegible, and smudged in several key places. Sentences ended abruptly and diagrams were faded or disrupted by the passing of time. The idea that her meticulous scouring of each line was to be pointless gnawed quietly at her motivation. Her stomach growled.
Bakugou looked up from his book at her.
"Go eat something." He said. His words were harsh without being rude, because they were right. She felt a pang of shame at it.
"I will," she bookmarked the page that she had open "soon."
"Soon? You're not going to get anything done soon if you're so fucking hungry your stomach is singing all the parts in a holiday choir."
Yaoyorozu put down her quill with a smack.
"Don't take that tone with her." She snapped.
"Maybe I wouldn't have to if you'd bloody tell her to take a break." He rejoined "And don't pretend that you haven't been struggling with that differential equation for the last half-hour."
She bristled.
"Even if you're right, there's no reason for you to be rude about it. You have yet to do anything use-"
"Enough." Said Uraraka, standing suddenly "Let's eat. And you, Bakugou, please come with me."
Yaoyorozu had headed to the kitchen on her own, leaving them alone in the dusty bibliotheque. Bakugou remained at his seat, but the queen had walked over to shadow him.
"What?" he growled.
"What do you think?" she said.
She crossed her arms, pushing the dust in the air to swirl about her fingers. He didn't reply.
"Look," she continued with a sigh "if you have a problem with me, then I expect you to say so. Don't go taking things out on my friends."
"Why the fuck would I have a problem with you?"
She frowned at him.
Why would he have a problem with her? There surely was one, wasn't there? The atmosphere between them was stilted and strange. Why?
Because they were married, she supposed. But hadn't he agreed to marry her? Didn't he want to be a hero and a king?
The stars above them on their wedding day had extended to a pool of amber. She had thought they then might be friends, might hold each other in common esteem. She had thought then that their stiff conversations might soon flow easily.
But she had been wrong. Now he sat before her with his eyes narrowed, and she barely knew what to say. Her heart climbed to her throat and a silent pressure took hold of her.
She wanted desperately to find the right answer. She didn't know why.
He was still watching her, leaning on his fist. Her eyes traced his cold knuckles and an idea seized her. She felt her ears burn.
"Because I kissed you." She mumbled.
"What?"
"I said," she reddened with every word "because I kissed you!"
"I fucking got that, cheeks, I meant why the fuck would that be a problem for me?"
She had never liked that tone of his. But instead of stinging at the harshness of his dissent, panic and confusion burst in her heart.
"Because even though we agreed to it earlier," she cried "you froze as it happened! Because you never took my hand back and you were completely lost in thought for the rest of the day!"
"Alright already, I fucking get it, but if I didn't like it, I would've fucking told you! You're not the problem. You can kiss me as much as you'd like."
He frowned again, looking away, the edges of the jaw turning pink. Was he really so angry? Was she wrong for letting her heart leap at his words?
"No, what I mean is- fuck, I don't have a problem with it. And I thought that you would have a problem with me because of the wine, and Deku…"
"And Izuku? What about him?"
He pulled his cloak around his neck again, looking anywhere but at her. She felt a little betrayed.
"It wasn't about Izuku." She continued "It's not about Izuku now and it's not going to be in the future. I kissed you because I wanted to."
"Right. Alright."
He looked back at her. There was an awkward silence as they stared at one another. It hit her that she had not resolved their original point of contention.
"So neither of us is angry about the wedding, correct?"
"Correct."
"That's good. And you don't have a problem with me, correct?"
"Again, correct. Do we really have to-"
"So why are you treating my friends so poorly?"
He snarled his lips.
"Ponytail and I have our own problems, as do Deku and I. It doesn't concern you."
"Why not? They're my friends."
"Which is why you should be asking them, not me."
But weren't she and Bakugou friends too? Well, unusual friends: friends who kissed, and held hands, and were married. Weren't they friends? What were they?
Bakugou stood. She didn't like that he had witnessed her face change at his last words. They felt horribly distant at that moment.
"C'mon." he said "let's go eat."
XXX
Over the next few weeks, it became increasingly apparent to Uraraka that Bakugou had a poor relationship with not only Yaoyorozu and Midoriya, but with most of the inhabitants of the castle.
Whilst he remained relatively restrained and civil with Iida, he made no attempt to get along with (or even really talk to) Todoroki. Once he had learned enough ancient Lasandunian to help with national policy decisions, he frequently clashed with Yaoyorozu on her proposed ideas, and though the process brought about compromises that were indubitably effective at solving the kingdom's problems, their debates were exhausting and time-consuming to entertain.
To Midoriya he seldom addressed a harsh word; instead, his penetrating glares did all of the talking, and on the regular occasions that he decided to join the city guard for their training, they beat each other black and blue in sparring matches. It was only in Bakugou's presence, too, that the queen noticed Midoriya looking at her strangely; a look less like the pity that she had known from him and more like a burning, indignant confusion. She didn't dare to ask him what it was for.
Even with his companions, Bakugou was seldom gentle. Ashido and Kirishima had seemingly found a novel and highly effective method of taunting him, though she never found out quite what it was: their joking ceased with remarkable rapidity as soon as she entered the room. At first she was caught with the mortifying idea that the joke somehow involved her, but Ashido's continued friendliness towards her dulled the idea. It would have been conceited to believe that she was involved in their inside jokes.
However, she found it quite hard not to notice their little game. The taunting itself did not stand out to her, particularly, for she had not known the rose-and-pansy pair for very long, and it seemed to be in their nature, but their relentlessness on the point of the recurring joke was baffling. She wondered whether it was simply a part of their friendship, or if they wished to accomplish something - and, if so, what it could possibly be.
Bakugou's reaction never changed: it merely hovered along his usual spectrum of anger, ranging from paroxysms of fury to beleaguered acceptance. Every day, at one juncture or another, they would smile knowingly or raise their eyebrows or repress a laugh, and he would react accordingly. Every day, he turned his back on her, and the nape of his neck was red. When he seemed unusually put out by their teasing, they would make an exception to apologise to him, but this never dulled their appetite for very long, and soon enough they were back at their chase again, filling the castle with laughter and roars and the thumping of running feet.
In these lively moments, and in the silent hours spent bent over books, spring fluttered further over the land. The green finko fruit in the royal garden swelled on its sagging palm, and tender shoots burst from the soil to twist their way towards the suns. During the night the snow stopped falling, and during the day it warmed just enough to be soft underfoot. On the wider streets of the city, the ice melted, and the children could talk without their breath sticking in the air.
Lasandu's economy, after much labour, began to recover. It was not the sort of thing that could be observed in a day, or a week, or a month; rather, it was felt constantly, in all aspects of life, slowly creeping up on the people of the kingdom. Bread was topped with foreign poppy seeds, the baths were scented with springtime herbs, and fresh-slaughtered meat and furs began to spring up on the market, all for the first time since the famine.
This miraculous turnaround was achieved not only by legislation, but by direct action and intervention. By mid-spring, the queen abandoned the library, for all that could be achieved through writing was written, and the city criers had been given so much news to announce as of late that many of them had lost their voices. From then on, she donned a veil and cape, and set about town to get things done in her own way. Yaoyorozu went back to her business during the day, and Bakugou, for reasons unknown, divided his time between the city guard and the library.
The most important factor in the regeneration of Lasandu's economic landscape was the establishing of foreign trade. A great arbitrage was made of exporting rock salt, a commodity which was as cheap as the mountain stone in Lasandu, but worth its weight in silver in lands such as Capcana and Onirus. Furthermore, by transporting the salt in traditional earthenware pots an awareness was raised of local craftsmanship, and soon enough orders were being places from far and wide for a variety of artisanal wares. Established trade links were equally exploited to import all sorts of things that the mountain kingdom had missed: seeds for the farmers of the winelands, tools for ironmongers, flax for weavers and gossip for the unemployed. A balance was struck, just as Uraraka had wished, between consumption (and thereby financial support of) domestic goods, and that of new, exciting international ones. By facilitating commerce, the royal estate made a reasonable profit from the increasing consumption, and their debts were slowly paid off.
Naturally, to make all of this possible, liasons had to be made, for the first time in two years, with merchants outside the kingdom. This was realised with the help of a priest, a veterinarian, and a foreign man of dubious morality - a certain emissary named Hawks.
XXX
"BA-KU-" called Uraraka, pushing open the star-studded castle doors and peering into the courtyard "gou?"
The garden was empty. She sighed. Her heavy royal robes, and his, tucked under her arm, were weighing her down as she stalked through the castle, and as the second sun rose into the sky the quietly growing sense of urgency flared.
Standing between the open doors, neither inside the castle nor out, she allowed herself a moment to catch her breath before running off again. Spring had bloomed wonderfully over the darkened soil, and the sight of it still took her breath away. It was what she had dreamed of all winter: that regrowth, that sweet smell, that shock of green shoots and kaleidoscopic flowers – spring, the ripening of the heavy finko fruit upon its palm. Not much longer now and it would be ready to eat, all hers, a marker of the time passed.
She breathed deep and forced herself to turn away from the green, back into the towering castle halls. With a mumbled cry of exasperation, she picked her robes by the hem, and ran, click-click-click, past coloured doors and through criss-crossing junctions.
"Ka-tsu-ki?" she called, panting for breath between each syllable "Ba-ku-gou?"
Desperation pricked her by her ankles. Where was he? Would she have to go alone?
Just as she turned a corner, she spied Ashido and Kirishima carrying their laundry on their shoulders and stopped before them. She placed her free hand on her knee, gasping for air.
"Have you seen-" she wheezed "seen-"
"Your husband?" smiled Kirishima.
"Yes"
"No."
"What?"
Ashido slapped her palm to her forehead.
"Eiji! That's no use at all!" she exclaimed, then turned apologetically to the queen "What he means to say, yer majestically, is that we haven't seen him seen him, but we know he's in the library."
"Thank the [Uraraka took a deep breath] Earth Mother. Goodbye!"
She picked herself up again, and was off like a shooting star. Her robes billowed and her hair stuck behind her ears as she ploughed a path through the still air, her wooden steps echoing like the rumble before an avalanche.
At last, she came to the library doors, and yanked them open.
"Ka-!"
The boy in question was perched at the top of a librarian's ladder, on the tips of his toes, reaching for a book so high up that it was shrouded in dust and shadows. Uraraka's sudden entry had turned his head in surprise, and, subsequently, the rest of his body too. This disturbed his balance, and, within an instant, sent him plummeting towards the ground.
She watched him tip in horror. Every hair on her body stood on end and her heart hammered in her throat.
He was falling. It was her fault.
Instinct possessed her. What else could she have done? Suddenly a puissance as potent as lightning rippled across her every synapse and she exploded into a leap. His royal robe was discarded as though it meant nothing in the mad dash towards him.
He was still falling, fast. A blur of blonde hair. His cloak rippled in free fall. A strangled yell tore from his throat, growing louder until-
Uraraka slapped him.
With a flash of pink magic, he was floated gently. He bobbed just above the floor, a look of alarm and anger distorting his brow.
"What the fuck?" he murmured to himself, his voice rising in frustration "Thank fuck- thank fucking Father Sky and the Ocean's Hallowed fucking Saints, what the fuck- what the fuck was that, cheeks?"
She leaned down on him, out of breath, so red in the face that she thought she would catch fire.
"Sorry." Was just about all that she could manage.
"Sorry? You nearly fucking killed me! Why the fuck did you burst in like that?"
Oh yes. Her purpose dawned once more upon her, and panic completely eclipsed any sense of embarrassment. She dropped Bakugou indelicately onto the floor.
"We need to go," she said urgently "now. Your robes are there. Iida and Todoroki have my crown, they're waiting outside. We need to go."
"Go fucking where?" he growled, dusting himself off as he stood.
"Go to meet the Onirian emissary!" she pleaded "Please, we need to hurry. I need you for this."
He twitched. She wondered whether she had said something wrong, but he was already making his way to the door.
"Come the fuck on then." He snapped.
They bickered back and forth as they snaked their way back to the entrance of the castle. Bakugou argued that Uraraka should not have run in on him as she had, and she responded that he should not have been trying to get to books that were unsafe to reach for in the first place. She tried to question, furthermore, why he had been looking at them on his own, but was shut down when he asked why she hadn't warned him of his royal duty. She replied that it should have been obvious, as she had ereyesterday gone to see Tokoyami at the men's temple, and yesterday Koda at the veterinarian's, and then Bakugou began to self-righteously protest the ridiculousness of her excuses, but was cut off when they reached Iida and Todoroki.
The group switched to a rapid march, and Uraraka seamlessly took the crown from Iida's gloved hands to place it on her head. The knight glanced over them as he walked.
"I say," he said "I everything alright now? You seem rather exercised."
"It's fine" she replied hastily, brushing a strand of hair from her face "we'll make it on time. Katsuki knows the plan. Show no weakness. Project only strength."
They slowed as they reached the steepest section of the courtyard.
"That's not what I meant." Continued Iida "I meant that this man will be an adult. The first for two years."
"Tenya…" she looked back at him, eyebrows pulling into a plea. Her next words were so quiet that it was as if she only mouthed them "Not now."
They reached the entrance gates.
Behind the iron grill stood the first adult man to set foot in Lasandu for two years. The light of the two suns glowed on his face, and he smiled comfortably at them as they bowed.
"Hullo, your majesty." Said Hawks.
Hawks had about him the haggard charm of an adult who has seen the world. He was not particularly short nor tall, being roughly of Bakugou's height, but his mature demeanour gave him the presence of a man twice his size. He seemed, additionally, to be acutely aware of his power over them as an adult, or else to have a total disregard for the politesse expected of a guest to a queen. His laid-back confidence showed in his baggy, scuffed leather clothing, from which hung myriad bits and bobs of copper and silver origin, and this rakish air was further strengthened by a line of stubble that scratched the outline of his chin. His blondish hair was, curiously, several shades lighter than his eyebrows, although both were feathered and messy, and his black eyeliner smudged at the corners of his eyes.
None of this, though, was what first caught Uraraka's attention.
No, instead, her eyes were immediately drawn to the man's wings. They were a dull red, quite tall, and completely unlike anything she had ever seen. It took quite a lot of effort not to stare.
"Greetings." She said politely, smiling as best she could "I trust your flight here was agreeable?"
"Agreeable as three days in the freeze might be."
"Well," she stiffened her smile a little forcefully "that is the way of the mountain after all. Would you like to come in?"
They opened the gates for him, and he stepped into the courtyard. Bakugou edged closer to her side.
"Thank you very much, your highness. Very kind. You're the spitting image of your mother, did you know? Very kind too, her."
Bakugou's arm snaked about her waist so smoothly that she almost didn't realise. He pulled her ever so slightly, and she had to fight the urge to fluster with every fibre of her being. This was all a part of the act, wasn't it?
"Thank you." She said, never breaking eye contact with Hawks "I have often been told so."
"And speaking of spitting images," leapt Hawks, turning now to their guards "do I spy a Todoroki in our midst?"
The collective displeasure at this twist in the conversation was almost palpable. What did he want? Where were his manners? Todoroki turned pale. Hawks continued to smile at him.
"Ah, don't worry, kid. I may work with your father, but I don't live in his pocket. It's just hard not to notice that this is a bit of a weird gathering." he looked about him "Isn't there anyone older around?"
"No. And you would do well not to tell a soul of it."
He raised his eyebrows, more out of curiosity than fear.
"Whatever you say, your majesty. If the pickings are as rich as you say they are, your secret's safe with me."
"What, so only if there's something in it for you?" spat Bakugou, who had up until then been silent. He tightened his grip on Uraraka's waist, and she watched him with dread. "You think this is some sort of fucking game?"
Hawks narrowed his eyes.
"Everything has a price, kid." He said "And what're you worried for? You're king, aren't you?"
"My name is Katsuki Bakugou."
"Alright Katsuki Bakugou, if it's not a game, why am I here?"
"Because of me." Snapped Uraraka.
She had had quite enough with the current tone of the conversation. She had not called him to be interrogated, nor to let Bakugou ruin her reputation. She had called him to talk business, and she told him so.
He gave her that look again, of eyebrows raised and laughter in the corners of his eyes. They talked business.
It was agreed that Hawks would make the journey to and from Lasandu once a week, carrying with him the exports on the way down, and the resulting profits and imports on the way up. He was allowed to keep a cut of the earnings, just as the king and queen, and could advise on the demand of various goods depending on what he had heard in the lowlands. If things went well, he would also help to set up trading posts on the land border with the winelands. The numbers were written out onto paper for a contract, and once everything had been settled, they bowed to one another.
"Pleasure doing business with you." Said Hawks, beginning to dust off his wings "You're a lovely bunch. So kind."
"Oh, but thank you for your help too. We're so grateful for your assistance."
"Well, I'm the only one who you could ask, aren't I?"
Why was this man so purposely disagreeable? She had thought the job was settled, done, but he seemed to want something more. Anger flickered. She could not let him take anything more from her homeland, not when she had come so close to putting it right. Yet still something held her tongue. He was an adult, a foreigner, a rich merchant; she was queen but he wielded a silent power over her.
Beside her Bakugou curled his lip, revealing a slither of lion's teeth.
"I mean," continued Hawks, even though it was quite plain that no one wished for him to "nobody else was going to make the journey up this hunk of rock. Nobody else could, really. And even then…"
"Then fucking what?" interjected Bakugou. Uraraka glared at him in alarm "We gave you a peachy deal, so you can fuck right off if you think you get to shit talk us."
"Oh no, kid, nothing of the sort. I only meant, what they say in other lands about this place…." He tilted his head almost imperceptibly towards her as he spoke "About her majesty…. Well, it's quite frightening, is all."
Bakugou's grip on her was like iron now, but it shook. She felt the weave of her clothes imprint on her cold flesh.
"And it's fucking true." He said, voice low but rising to a growl. His red eyes were fixed as though sighting prey for the kill. "What they say is true, and you can tell your scummy Onirians that when you get home. You don't know shit about Lasandu, or about us."
Hawks looked away, adjusting an earring with one hand and smoothing his feathers with the other.
"No, it seems I don't."
And with that, he took flight. In an ear-breaking flap he was engulfed in his own red wings, then sent shooting into the clear blue sky. He spread his wings and soared over the edge of the summit, a blur of red and gold.
They watched him for a moment. In the lull, Bakugou released her, and they turned back to face the castle.
"Thank fuck that's over." He breathed.
Iida pushed his spectacles up his nose.
"I am inclined to agree." He said.
A spring breeze pulled at the snow under their feet. The two boys looked at each other with suspicion for a moment before walking off.
Uraraka followed. About half way up the steep of the courtyard, Bakugou slipped, and she caught him. Having hauled him up, she did not let go of his hand. Iida, ahead of them, glanced back, but didn't comment. At the castle doors they went their separate ways, but she still held her husband's hand. They walked to the treasury together.
The spring light had a yellowish tint through the stained glass, casting the floor in citrine and honeycomb, and the gold on Bakugou's coat sparkled like fishscales in the shallows. She watched him.
Her sides were still warm where he had held her. Her ears were still warm from his words.
Us.
Was that all it took? An object pronoun no longer than a single syllable?
Us.
It meant that they were together in this, after all. And hadn't he helped her? Hadn't he learned to read an ancient script so that he could understand the words of her ancestors? Though he had been rather rude to their latest guest, it was only when firmness was lacking on her own part. They had each played their role in the negotiation instinctively, knowing that they would do what the other could not.
Bakugou was looking back at her now. She scolded herself for so improperly letting her royal comportment drop to stare at him.
"What?" he said. His eyelashes were streaked with goldenrod in the glassy light.
"Thank you." She said.
His hand twitched in hers. Oh dear, had she said something wrong? It seemed far too easy to do around him.
"And, um, sorry." She continued "For nearly getting you killed this morning."
He rolled his eyes.
"Oh, that little thing?" his sarcasm had no bite, and she huffed with pleasure at it.
"Well, I shan't argue with you about it anymore… and don't you agree that we did a fine job as queen and king today?"
"You sure did, cheeks."
They turned a corner and he looked away. She insisted.
"Oh, but you did too! I mean it. And with the taxes last week, and the guild's meeting before that. Now that we have settled the trading, I'm sure our debts will be paid back before the year's end, and the winter won't be…"
The winter still terrified her. A phantasmagoria of hollowed-out faces and cold bones, blood on the snow, danced at the back of her eyelids.
"The winter will be fine." Bakugou's voice echoed from somewhere far away. She felt the pressure of his fingers tightening around hers.
She shivered. Her breaths stuttered and rose into coughs as her body remembered itself. Now broken from a trance, the world caved in around her, and the muscles at base of her ribs pulled her violently into herself.
Her throat burned. Where had the light gone?
There was a warm brush on the rise of her back, and a tension at her hips. Bakugou had pulled his fingers from hers to rub a gentle arc up and down her shoulders. He was saying something, but she couldn't hear. Shakily at first, but gradually more and more smoothly, she matched her breaths to his rhythm (in… out, in… out, and what was he murmuring?) and eventually the black at the corners of her vision crept back into her skull. She realised then, with the stone around her returned to startling clarity, that she was all but fallen onto Bakugou. He had caught her by the waist as she collapsed.
She pulled herself up awkwardly. She didn't know quite what to say. She was thankful, obviously, to him for catching her and taming her lungs. But she was also a little horrified. She had, of late, been relying on him far more than anyone else in the castle, and was beginning to worry that it was unfair.
The petulant desire to use him as she wished was shrinking away inside her now, replaced by something else. She still wanted to hold his hand. She still liked the comfort that he gave her. But there was yet something not quite right. She swallowed.
His eyebrows were knit as he looked down at her. She gave a half-hearted smile, and took his hand again to close the final distance to the treasury.
They stood in silence on the other side of the red mahogany doors, helping one another disassemble their royal attire. Bakugou plucked the crown from her head, and she untied each knot of his cloak. She could feel him watching her as her hands worked, and when the front finally split open like a late chestnut opens its bur, something within caught her eye.
There, on the bed of his woven shirt, sat a golden bell. It dazzled in the marigold light, contrasting against the wearing red ribbon upon which it hung. Her own bell chimed about her neck.
She was still close to him, close to his chest and in his shadow, but none of that concerned her. It was warm. She felt safe.
She reached out to hold the bell. It was warm too.
"Thank you." She whispered again. "You are as great a king-" she indulged herself. It felt right. "As great a friend as I could have asked for."
She looked up. Her husband had a look upon his face that she had never seen before.
XXX
Several weeks after the initiation of Hawks' distribution, and the subsequent flourishing of Lasandunian exports, in the mid spring with all the snowdrops nodding in the breeze and a bister hawk circling the summit, the two-hundred and third queen of Lasandu, Ochaco Uraraka, stepped into her garden.
The sky was all full of its two great egg-yolk suns, and of promise for the day to come. She stood, content for a while to survey the greenery, before startling. Something was amiss.
The finko fruit was gone.