~…~

Chapter 3

~…~

Flames, hot and fierce and angry, trailed after Endeavor as he stalked down the corridors of the castle. Servants and guards were quick to make haste whenever he turned a corner; none of them desiring the pain and scarring those flames could cause if their owner was in a foul enough mood. In truth, it always seemed as though the Hand was agitated, but it had never been as obvious as it was now.

His boots echoed throughout the castle, a signal to all that he was on his way. Behind him, having to run to keep pace with him, were two guards. Though they knew not why the Hand had demanded they follow him, neither of them dared to question his orders, or speak at all for that matter. The path that they were taking was a familiar one to both of them; it was the same route Endeavor always took when he needed to see his son and heir.

Shouto had not been seen since the reception party last night and while both guards briefly wondered if the King's Hand was worried about him, they knew that wasn't the reason for his early morning visit. The sun had barely rose when Endeavor's furious roar broke the calm of the King's Keep and he marched through the large doors looking like a mad man on the hunt. And Shouto was his prey.

Upon reaching his son's door, Endeavor didn't bother to knock or vocally announce his presence. With a fist covered in flames, Endeavor punched the wooden door hard enough and with such force that it burst off its hinges and splintered before striking the stone wall and fracturing even more. Shouto's body jolted upward with a start at the sudden intrusion, his clothes the same as the ones he wore to the wedding and reception, his hair slightly tousled. He had no time to react before Endeavor was pulling him out of bed by his throat and slamming his body against the wall.

"How dare you?!" the flame-cloaked man roared, eyes bulging from rage and madness. Shouto clawed at the hand that held him, gasping for breath, but it was no use. His father's grip was far too strong.

"Your Lord Hand, please! Stop this!" the one guard, Iida Tenya, pleaded. If Endeavor kept this up, he would surely kill the only child he had left.

"Until that little whelp returns to the kingdom with whatever devil spawn he'll birth, I am the acting king and Protector of the Realm, not the Hand," Endeavor reprimanded him with a low, menacing growl. "You warned them, didn't you?" He growled at Shouto, his face uncomfortably close to his son's. All Shouto could do was struggle and gasp for air, his face turning a dark shade of purplish red.

"We almost had them all. Now, all we have is a slew of corpses from the few hundred we managed to cut off and one survivor who is refusing to talk. All because of you and your damned affection for that little bitch," Endeavor snarled. "You. Ruined. Everything."

At long last, he released Shouto from his grasp, who crumpled to the floor and coughed violently, his hands clutching his throat. Endeavor's narrowed, piercing gaze turned towards the two guards.

"Lock him away in the dungeons," he ordered.

"My King, please," Iida began, but was swiftly cut off by the older man.

"Do not make me repeat myself!" he barked.

Without further hesitation, the two guards approached and picked the younger Todoroki up off of the floor. Their arms gripped held him firmly and were unyielding as they dragged Shouto, still coughing and wheezing, from his bedroom. All the while, Endeavor watched them, feeling not at all satisfied. He wouldn't sentence his masterpiece to death, but he would make him pay for his insolence.

~…~

Kirishima Eijiro decided that he didn't like dungeons all that much.

They were dark, dank, cold, and uncomfortable. And they smelled of death and despair. This was his first time ever in one and he had no desire to be in another, or to remain in this one for that matter. But he was chained to the wall and could only move as far as the chain allowed him too. Even attempting to break them had proved futile; all he had accomplished was causing shallow cuts in his wrists and expend too much energy. All he could do in the end was sit against the cold wall and ignore the thin trail of water that was soaking the back of his tunic.

This certainly wasn't what he had expected when he first entered Yuuei the day before. Kirishima had expected to drink a little, eat some food, and maybe dance with a little before passing on his cot. Well, he had certainly done all of that, however no one had informed him that the camp would be leaving the kingdom mere hours after the party had died down. He woke with a start at the sound of people running past the emptied and abandoned tents before he left his own. Only when he stepped out into the morning sun, he had been quickly surrounded by guards and knights.

For whatever reason, he had been spared, but the few hundred or so others that hadn't been so lucky to make it out of Yuuei's walls had been slaughter mercilessly. He could hear their screams even now, pleading to live or encouraging others to keeping running. In the end, he didn't know how many of his fellow tribesmen had been killed; all he knew was that he was alive for whatever reason.

The only available source of light came from the few torches that were perched on the walls, and those were few and far between. Kirishima didn't know how much time had passed since he had been brought down here; maybe a few minutes, maybe a few hours. All he really knew was that he hated being in this dungeon and that he'd rather be with his tribe; either the ones who had managed to make it out alive or not, it didn't matter to him.

He longed for the trees and the grass and the wind. Even before entering Yuuei, Kirishima had felt uneasy about the place. The wall made it feel more like a prison than a kingdom and he had always been grateful to have been born outside of that wall. Not that the outlands were a perfect paradise, but they didn't have a wall keeping them trapped inside. There was one thing both the outlands and Yuuei had in common, though: death.

Death followed every creature everywhere and didn't care if one was a sinner or a saint. The slaughter of his tribesmen hadn't been his first encounter with death. Kirishima's parents had died when he was a newborn babe and his only other family member, his half-brother Tetsutetsu, had been killed before his very eyes, by a man covered in hands. His entire bodied seemed to decay right and there had been nothing he could do to prevent it. That had been last year. So, Kirishima was well acquainted with death.

But he hadn't thought that it would follow the tribe into Yuuei. He was used to skirmishes and battles with rival tribes, both small and large, but a sneak attack right at dawn? And by people who called themselves heroes? Not only was that perplexing, but it was rather cowardly and unmanly. These people seemed worse than the so-called villains who lived in the outlands.

Footsteps came from the stairwell across the room along with light from a new torch. Not too long after the noises first began to echo in the dungeon, three silhouettes stepped down off of the stairs and into the larger room. Kirishima could tell that the two on the outside were guards, maybe knights, judging by their armor, but the one in the middle, who had white and red hair, appeared to be his age, and looked like death warmed over. Aside from looking tired and sweaty, there were fresh bruises beginning to form around his neck.

One of the guards opened the cell beside Kirishima's and tossed the boy into the cell. Almost like a sack of potatoes, he fell to the floor and didn't make any sudden movements. Before the first guard was able to close and lock the door, the second one stopped him, arm held out in front of him.

"He needs to be chained. I shall see to it that he is. You report back to the king," he said, his voice leaving little room for argument.

"Very well, 'Captain' Iida," the guard replied before tossing him the keys and leaving the same way that they had arrived.

Kirishima watched him go before turning back to his new neighbor and the remaining guard. Instead of doing as he had said and chaining the new prisoner up, the guard, Iida, merely closed and locked the cell door. From his left side, he unattached a pouch and gently tossed it through the bars. It landed on the ground beside the boy's head.

"I don't know how long you'll be down here, but try to make that last. I'll try to return in a few days to see how you're doing," Iida told him. He turned to leave before pausing and looking over his shoulder just as the other started to rise. "I suggest that you try not to cause a ruckus down here. I don't want to see your father hurt you again." With that, he left.

The boy grabbed the water pouch with one hand while he tenderly rubbed his neck with the other. Sitting back, he leaned against the wall and took a small swig of water. His chest was rising and falling and his eyes were bloodshot. Kirishima couldn't help but watch him; he was just so…different from anyone else he had seen before. Maybe it was his hair, or his eyes which were also different colors, or maybe it was the scar that covered the upper left half of his face.

Those eyes, one blue and one grey, slowly turned his way and Kirishima had a full view of his face. Not knowing what exactly to say, all he could do was lift one chained hand up and wave like a fool at him.

"You were staring," was all the other said. Kirishima released a soft, nervous laugh.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. I just wasn't expecting to get a neighbor," he replied.

"Ah." The boy coughed. His voice sounded harsh and hoarse, even after having taken that sip of water. It must have been very painful for him to speak, yet he didn't show it. This guy was a man!

"I'm Kirishima Eijiro," Kirishima introduced himself, giving the other a small smile.

"Todoroki Shouto," Todoroki said with a tilt of his head.

Well, if he was going to be stuck in this dungeon for a while, at least he had someone to talk to now.

~…~

They began to make camp just as the sun began to set.

After riding since the middle of the night, Izuku was more than happy to dismount his mare. He had grown fond of her while on the move and hoped that she would be his. She had seemed so gentle and good-natured that he didn't want any other horse.

Looking around, Izuku could see for miles. They were making camp in the plains that stretched for miles and miles past the woods that shrouded Yuuei and its wall. Grass swayed as a light breeze wound its way across the flat expanse Izuku saw. Further in the distance to the north was a mountain range. Hitoshi had told him that it was those mountains that they were heading towards. Sooner rather than later, the summer would end and it would be ideal to move the tribe to one of the cities that had been carved into the mountains long ago.

Prior to Yuuei being founded and cutting off the outlands from the rest of the kingdom, the first men and women had built massive homes and strongholds in the mountain range that lined the land. The biggest and oldest one, the one that was situated in the middle of the range, was where they were heading to. From what Hitoshi had told him, all of the tribes were planning to meet there. Apparently, Aizawa was hoping to unite them all as they had once been, but no one knew how well that meeting would go.

The very knowledge that the tribes had been one once was new to Izuku. He had always thought they had been separated from the very beginning, but that was not the case. Hitoshi had left his side to go assist with preparing the encampment, so Izuku hadn't been able to ask him anymore questions aside from that.

Patting his mare's neck, Izuku began to make his way through the camp. They must have camped here before arriving at Yuuei because there were a lot of tents that had still been standing when they arrived. Now, people were gathering resources for the fires they'd be making and the food they'd be preparing for supper. Most of them were talking and chatting excitedly, others were shouting orders to get this or that done. All of this was so different from how life inside the King's Keep had been.

Almost everyone stared at him as he walked past, some muttering and whispering as he did so. Never before had he felt quite like a fish out of water. Somehow, some way, he would become one of them and bear a child of both worlds, but that wouldn't be for a while yet. Seemingly out of nowhere, Hitoshi came and began walking beside him. Izuku had thought, hoped, that he would return to his father's side, but that clearly wasn't the case. Though he wasn't sure how to handle or act around the taller lad, Izuku did feel a bit better at having a familiar face around.

"My queen, we have some rabbits and squirrels cooking on the fire," Hitoshi informed him. Izuku shook his head.

"I'm not hungry," he said softly. He hadn't been hungry since his father had died. His appetite had vanished and, in truth, he didn't want it back. It wasn't hard to ignore the ache of his stomach when the ache in his backside felt far worse.

"You need to eat. Starving yourself won't do you any good," Hitoshi told him, his tone not unkind.

"I'm not starving myself. I'm merely…trying to adjust to my new life," Izuku replied, stopping and glancing at his blue haired companion.

Then his eyes traveled over the tents and the people, all busy with whatever evening chores that needed to be tended to. He had made it to the heart of the camp. Not far from him was Aizawa, talking with a few men, whom Izuku had seen with him whilst riding. Perhaps they were part of his guard as well? He didn't know and didn't really care to know. When Aizawa's eyes met his own across the distance, Izuku knew what the night had in store for him and he looked forward to it as much as he had the evening before.

A hand, strong and sturdy, was placed on his shoulder. Izuku looked up and met Hitoshi's gaze. For the first time, there was a softness in his eyes that hadn't been there before and it made Izuku relax ever so slightly.

"Father isn't a mean or cruel man. He has a heart and cares deeply for those worthy of him," Hitoshi told him. He squeezed Izuku's shoulder. "Things will get easier if you stop playing the victim."

At that, Izuku pulled away from his grasp and glared at him. His heart was pounding in his chest. How dare Hitoshi say such a thing to him?! He wasn't playing anything; he wasn't an actor or anything of the sort. Did Hitoshi assume that Izuku was trying to gain attention or something of that nature? If he did, was he the only one or were there others in the tribe who thought that he was playing a fool?

"I am no victim, sir," Izuku ground out, trying to remain civil despite his blood boiling.

Without another word, Izuku stalked towards where Aizawa and presumably their tent was. He didn't look or talk to anyone, not even his husband, who was eyeing him with uncertainty in his gaze as Izuku entered their tent. Relieved that he had been correct, Izuku sat down on the cot and tangled his fingers in his hair. For the first time in his life, he wanted to punch something or someone or do anything really that would relieve the stress he felt.

Sighing, partly in frustration and partly in exhaustion, Izuku laid down on the pillows and blankets that littered the cot. All he wanted to do was sleep, and before he knew it, darkness shrouded his vision. But he didn't sleep long.

Izuku woke to fingers peeling his clothing off and the sound of his shirt and trousers hitting the ground. Those fingers were crawling up his thighs and hips and then up and down his sides. In his tired haze, those hands felt amazing on his body and he wanted to relax and allow his naked body to be caressed. He didn't get that chance, though. Before he knew it, he was being yanked backwards until his ass was in the air and his elbows and forearms were cushioned on some pillows.

Fingers slicked with oil poked and prodded his pucker before plunging in just as they had the night before. Somehow, without even looking at him, Izuku knew it was his husband; he had felt those fingers touch him several times the previous night, how could he not know?

Once he was properly stretched and prepared, Aizawa entered him, burying his cock as deep into Izuku's body as he could. Pain flooded his senses and Izuku groaned out before biting his bottom lip. He didn't want to make any sound; he didn't want Aizawa to know he was in pain and that he wasn't enjoying himself. Not that Aizawa seemed to care if Izuku was getting as much pleasure out of their coupling as he was. Actually, Aizawa didn't seem to care for him at all. That didn't make him feel any better about this entire situation.

For a while, every thrust caused pain to spasm throughout his body and it was all Izuku could do to remain under Aizawa and stay still. He felt his husband shift and his thrusts starting hitting that spot within Izuku's body that caused him to see stars and feel pleasure cascade in waves all over his body. Soft moans began to escape him, but he couldn't let himself go, he just couldn't. Despite the pleasure he was being given, Izuku still didn't really want this; he didn't want Aizawa taking him like a hound takes a bitch, he didn't want their marriage period.

'Things will get easier if you stop playing the victim.'

Those words returned to Izuku in full force and he felt his blood begin to boil yet again. Just as he had told Hitoshi, he was no victim; he refused to be, if only to make Hitoshi eat those words. With his resolve reinforced, Izuku took Aizawa's cock again and again, steadying himself and refusing to back down.

A surprised grunt escaped his husband, but other than that, there was no other acknowledgement that something had changed. Beneath them, the cot creaked and groaned. Outside, people talked and laughed and fires burned and crackled, sending cinders and smoke into the air.

When Aizawa came inside of him, he pushed Izuku down into the pillows in order to bury himself and his seed deep inside of his body. The force of that caused some discomfort and pain and Izuku couldn't help but hiss at that. He had no time to recover before Aizawa was thrusting in and out of him again, his half hard cock becoming engorged once again as he did so. Just like their wedding night, this was going to be a long night for Izuku.