Izuku rode beside the carriage, his position atop his horse a stark contrast to Katsuki's confined space within. The early morning air was crisp, stinging his cheeks, now far removed from the Temple's protective enchantments. His breath formed clouds in the sharp air, a chill that penetrated his cloak and reminded him painfully of the warmth they had left behind. His horse's hooves crunched softly on the frost-laden grass, a sound oddly magnified in the quiet that enveloped their procession.
The usual sounds of the morning felt subdued, weighed down by the gravity of their journey. Izuku's gaze shifted continuously, alternating between the carriage that held Katsuki and the King's knights who rode in a tight formation around them. Each movement of the carriage's curtains drew Izuku's intense gaze, each glimpse of Katsuki's shadowed profile tightening the knot in his stomach. The Katsuki he knew—the vibrant, fiery spirit—seemed dimmed in the confines of the carriage, a caged bird whose every subtle shift spoke volumes to Izuku's watchful eyes.
Leather saddles creaked softly, and the rhythmic thuds of hooves on the earth merged with the hesitant chirps of forest birds disturbed by their passage. These sounds set a backdrop of solemnity for their journey, a stark reminder of the isolation imposed upon them despite their company.
This lull in action left Izuku's thoughts free to drift back to the day of their departure—the image of Katsuki descending the temple steps with a practiced calm that didn't quite reach his eyes lingered vividly in his mind. He remembered how Katsuki's demeanor had barely concealed the tension that Izuku could read so clearly, the subtle tremble of distress not visible to untrained eyes.
The memory of Captain Varric stepping forward to take Katsuki's hand, an action mandated by the High Priest rather than tradition, clenched Izuku's jaw tight. Each casual contact between the captain and Katsuki sent a surge of anger through him, though his position demanded he remain a silent observer to the political theatre unrolling before the temple's onlookers. As the procession wound its way through the thickening woods, Izuku couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding that clung tighter than the mist.
The abrupt halt of the procession jolted everyone. A carriage wheel had snapped, its sudden ruin echoing through the still forest air, pulling a sharp curse from one of the knights and drawing all eyes towards the mishap.
Izuku, ever vigilant, seized the momentary chaos to slip from his horse. His boots landed softly on the leaf-strewn path, his senses attuned to the rustle of the forest around them and the murmur of the unsettled convoy. He approached the carriage, his eyes searching for Katsuki.
The door swung open, and Katsuki leaned out, his face breaking into a rare smile of relief at the interruption. Despite the formality required by his role, the glimpse of the real Katsuki—a hint of rebellion sparkling in his eyes—offered Izuku a brief respite from his worries.
"Seems fate grants us a brief reprieve," Izuku observed, eyeing the broken carriage up ahead as he offered a hand to help Katsuki step down onto the soft earth.
Katsuki accepted his hand light in Izuku's grip, a subtle acknowledgment of their camaraderie. "Good, I was getting cramped in there," he quipped, stretching his arms above his head, the lines of tension easing visibly from his posture. "These death traps are less spacious than they look."
"Care for a short walk?" Katsuki suggested, his voice carrying a low, conspiratorial tone, a silent invitation to momentarily escape their roles.
Izuku hesitated, his eyes flicking briefly towards the captain, who was preoccupied with assessing the damage. The possibility of straying even for a few moments held an appeal, yet the responsibility weighed heavily on him. "I don't know," he murmured, his protective instincts warring with the desire to grant Katsuki this small liberty.
Katsuki's gaze followed Izuku's, understanding the unspoken concerns. "Just around here, not far," he reassured, his voice still low but persuasive, pulling gently on Izuku's arm to steer them a short distance from the road.
Reluctantly, Izuku agreed, allowing the pull of their friendship and Katsuki's need for a brief respite to guide his actions. They walked away from the convoy, their steps slow, each footfall a soft thud on the forest floor, allowing the Saintess a rare moment of freedom. Katsuki inhaled deeply, the fresh air seeming to lift the weight of his ceremonial role, if only for these fleeting minutes.
"I'd trade a kingdom for a horse and a pair of trousers right now," Katsuki joked, glancing down at the flowing robes that marked his sacred station. "Imagine the scandal at the temple if they saw their Saintess, preferring breeches over these silken chains."
Izuku chuckled, nodding in agreement as they wandered just a bit further into the verdant embrace of the woods. "You'd outpace half these knights if given a chance," he said, his tone laced with pride. "Their delicate Saintess, indeed."
Their smiles were easy, the conversation flowing naturally between them. Katsuki inhaled deeply, taking in the forest's scent, a soft sigh escaping him as he admitted, "Even with these chains, Izuku, this—right here—feels like a breath of freedom."
But the crunch of gravel under heavy boots heralded the end of their respite. Captain Varric approached, his presence casting a long shadow over the natural calm of the forest path. "We need to merge the carriages' supplies and move on. We'll be leaving the damaged one here to be fixed. The Saintess should be ready to continue shortly." He announced, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Katsuki's shoulders tensed slightly, the brief flicker of freedom extinguished by the reminder of his role. With a resigned nod, he stepped back toward the path they had left, his expression settling into the serene mask required of him. Izuku, though silent, felt a surge of protectiveness, his gaze sharp as he watched the captain.
"Of course, Captain," Katsuki responded, his voice smooth but devoid of the warmth he had shared moments ago. He glanced back at Izuku, a shared look of understanding passing between them, before turning to follow the captain back to the caravan.
As their caravan wound through the last thickets of the forest, the landscape abruptly opened up to reveal vast stretches of vineyards that seemed to roll endlessly into the horizon. Izuku watched Katsuki's reaction from a distance; the sight of endless rows of grapevines brought a moment of wonder to his eyes, a stark reminder of the world beyond the temple's walls. Katsuki peered out through the small window of his carriage, his expression alight with a rare, uninhibited awe.
The path to the Village of Lumina was lined with townsfolk who had ventured out from their homes, eager for a glimpse of the Saintess. Their hands scattered white petals in the air, a tribute that fluttered like snow against the rich green backdrop. But as the cheers grew louder and the eyes more numerous, Katsuki's brief spell of freedom faded; his face withdrew into the shadow of the carriage curtains, which he drew closed with a gentle tug, sealing himself away from the adoring crowds.
They passed through the grand gates of the Verlaine estate, where Joseph Verlaine, the brother of Lord Cedric Verlaine and a notably less imposing figure, awaited them. His demeanor was anxious, his eyes darting nervously between the knights and the carriage as it rolled to a stop. When Izuku helped Katsuki step down, Joseph's gaze lingered just a moment too long on the Saintess before the presence of Captain Varric prompted him to take action.
"Welcome to our family's estate," Joseph stammered, his voice barely carrying over the murmurs of the knights. He was quick to cater to Captain Varric, who took the lead with an air of authority that clearly overpowered the representative.
"Thank you for your hospitality," Katsuki responded with practiced grace, his voice carrying the weight of his role, even as he avoided further engagement. The relief that he wouldn't have to endure prolonged pleasantries was palpable in his slight relaxation beside Izuku.
As they stepped into the opulent dining hall of the Verlaine estate, Izuku surveyed the lavishly decorated space, noting the rich tapestries and the long dining tables set under the soft glow of candlelight. The estate's grandeur was a vivid display of wealth and taste, each element carefully chosen to impress yet keep a semblance of the storied traditions House Verlaine was known for.
While Izuku absorbed the splendor of the surroundings, Captain Verric engaged in conversation with Joseph Verlaine, the representative of the house. Izuku overheard Verric inquire casually, "How has business been with the mines?"
Joseph, a rather mousy man compared to the imposing figure of the captain, responded with a cautious optimism. "Very well, Captain. The mines continue to perform beyond our expectations. We'll be sending the next supply of magic crystals to the king shortly."
Izuku remembered overhearing some Temple knights speaking about a new mine that House Verlaine had discovered—an apparently endless source of high-grade magic crystals that had rapidly become the cornerstone of their wealth.
"Will the portal be ready after the blessing ceremony?" Izuku heard the captain ask, a hint of impatience threading his voice.
"Yes, everything will be prepared. Unfortunately, we can only portal you to the edge of the Blackthorn territories," Joseph replied, his tone apologetic.
The captain nodded, unfazed. "That will suffice. We'll continue on schedule and use another portal when we reach House Marigold."
Izuku was interrupted as a maid stopped beside them, her gaze downcast regarding the Saintess.
"Saintess, if you would follow me, I can escort you to your bedchambers where you maids are preparing you a bath and new dressings."
"Please, that would be wonderful." Katsuki said.
The servant promptly ushered Izuku and Katsuki toward their respective chambers to refresh after the long journey.
Izuku entered his chambers to find attendants ready to assist with his bathing. The thought of their hands on his skin made him inwardly recoil. Masking his discomfort with a polite smile, he quickly requested privacy.
"Thank you, but I'll manage on my own," Izuku said, his tone courteous yet firm. The attendants hesitated, unaccustomed to being dismissed, but respectfully exited the room, leaving him in the solitude he desperately needed.
Once alone, Izuku exhaled a sigh of relief and washed away the road's dust and sweat at his own pace, each movement deliberate and controlled, a small reclaiming of his autonomy.
Clean and dressed, Izuku positioned himself outside Katsuki's door, his thoughts drifting uncomfortably to the memory of Katsuki's last ceremonial attire. The revealing design had left much of his friend's back exposed—an image that had drawn many unwanted stares and had made Izuku's protective instincts flare uncomfortably.
When the door finally opened, Katsuki emerged, looking refreshed and more composed in his new robes, which were elegant yet modest. The fine fabric draped gracefully, complementing his stature without inviting the invasive gazes of their previous encounter.
"Ready to face the crowd?" Izuku asked, his voice low and slightly teasing, trying to lighten the mood.
"With you by my side? Always," Katsuki replied with a wry smile, his eyes briefly meeting Izuku's in a shared moment of understanding.
Together, they walked to the dining hall, the sounds of laughter and conversation escalating as they approached. Upon entering, the room fell into a respectful hush, all eyes on them.
Izuku, ever vigilant, guided Katsuki through the dining hall, his gaze sharp and assessing. He noted every glance directed their way—some knights regarded Katsuki with poorly veiled disdain, while others displayed a disturbing avidity. Izuku's jaw clenched tightly, his protective instincts tensing beneath the surface, though he maintained a calm exterior. The knights, perhaps sensing his alertness, kept their distance, their muted whispers blending into the background hum of the hall.
The feast laid before them was a lavish affair, far surpassing the simple fare they had encountered on the road. The table overflowed with an array of dishes, each releasing tantalizing aromas that filled the hall, drawing looks of anticipation from the gathered guests. As they settled into their seats, the air buzzed with the sound of laughter and the clink of glasses, the knights' spirits lifted by the estate's renowned wines.
Even Katsuki's maids seemed caught up in the merriment, their giggles mingling with the knights' attempts at flirtation.
Amid the festive atmosphere, Katsuki leaned in closer to Izuku, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "Think there might be any... scandalous escapades tonight?" he whispered, the corners of his mouth twitching with suppressed amusement.
Izuku's cheeks colored with a flush, his usual stoic demeanor momentarily faltering. "Katsuki," he chided gently, a hint of reproach in his tone, his discomfort with such topics clear. "That's hardly appropriate to speculate on."
Katsuki's chuckle was low and quiet, his amusement clear as he watched Izuku's embarrassed reaction. "Just a bit of humor, Izuku. Though, by the looks of it, some here might not need much encouragement to cross that line," he remarked, nodding subtly towards a group of knights whose laughter grew louder and more raucous by the minute.
Their conversation flowed easily, remaining light and filled with quiet laughter, as they commented on the peculiar antics and vibrant energy around them. Despite the jest, Izuku's smile returned, drawn out by Katsuki's lightheartedness.
"It might be good for them to let off some steam before we press on," Katsuki observed thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on a boisterous table.
"Indeed," Izuku agreed, though his eyes never stopped moving across the room, ever watchful. "As long as they maintain their decorum come morning." His voice carried a hint of concern, a reminder of the balance between revelry and responsibility.
As the evening progressed, Joseph Verlaine approached with a flourish of courtesy that seemed overly rehearsed. "Saintess, your presence brings boundless blessings to our house," he began, his voice tinged with an eagerness that bordered on servility. "The child you will bear for the king has been long awaited, a true blessing for our empire."
Izuku's eyes narrowed slightly as he observed Katsuki's reaction. The mention of the unborn child stiffened Katsuki's posture, a subtle sign of discomfort that didn't escape Izuku's protective gaze. Despite this, Katsuki maintained his composed facade, replying with a measured, "Thank you for your kind words. They are a comfort to hear."
As Joseph continued, his words took a more serious tone, hinting at internal politics. "Yes, your awakening has come at the most opportune time. There is much concern, you see, regarding the king's nephew's growing influence over the factions—" he divulged, but his sentence was abruptly cut off.
Captain Varric stepped forward, his presence commanding as he interjected, "Joseph, perhaps you should focus on the hospitality of your house rather than troubling the Saintess with such matters." The rebuke was sharp, and Joseph faltered, stuttering as he shifted topics. "Of course, Captain. Tomorrow's blessings will surely fortify the alliance between our houses," he recovered, returning to his initial platitudes before Katsuki could inquire further.
Izuku noted the flicker of curiosity that had sparked in Katsuki's eyes at the mention of the king's nephew. He knew that later, away from prying eyes, Katsuki would press him for more details about the political undercurrents—a request Izuku could never deny.
Seeking to ease Katsuki's apparent discomfort, Izuku turned back to Joseph. "May the Saintess have permission to walk the grounds? A change of scenery might be refreshing," he proposed, his tone polite but underscored with a firmness that suggested it was more of a gentle demand than a question.
Joseph, flustered but accommodating, quickly agreed. "Oh, absolutely! There's a trail through the vineyard that's well lit and quite serene," he offered, stumbling over his words in his rush to please. "Please, enjoy the grounds as you wish."
Thanking the representative, they excused themselves from the bustling dining hall. As soon as they stepped into the cool night air, the tension seemed to drain from Katsuki's shoulders, his Saintess mask dissolving to reveal a more genuine expression of relief.
"Always the knight, aren't you? Finding the noblest excuses to rescue me from those suffocating nobles," Katsuki teased, a playful glint in his eyes as they walked towards the vineyard path.
Izuku, slightly embarrassed but relieved to see Katsuki more at ease, smiled sheepishly. "Well, it's that or listen to endless praises that mean little more than the air they're spoken into. I figured you'd prefer the stars and vines to empty words."
As they walked further away from the estate and deeper into the quiet of the vineyard, the true purpose of their secluded walk became apparent. Katsuki's playful demeanor shifted subtly to one of curiosity and urgency. "So, about what Joseph mentioned... Tell me more about this nephew. What's going on?"
Izuku knew this question was coming. "His name is Emeric," he began, his tone turning serious as he relayed the information he had gathered. "Emeric is the king's nephew and part of House Thornfield, which, as you know, has always had a close bloodline of the throne. They've been quite successful in placing kings in the past."
"Their current discontent with the king has led them to rally for support. House Draven remains neutral but leans towards Emeric, weighing which side would benefit them more substantially," Izuku explained, keeping his voice low as the shadows of the vines grew longer around them.
Katsuki absorbed the information, his brow furrowed in thought. "And the New Blood Faction?" he probed, seeking the fuller picture.
"They're divided," Izuku continued. "Each member is playing a waiting game, deciding which candidate to support based on the potential gains. It's a chessboard, and Emeric is gaining pieces."
Katsuki stopped walking, turning to face Izuku under the muted starlight. "This isn't just about lineage or the throne, is it? It's about control and changing the fabric of our governance," he stated, more a realization than a question.
"Exactly," Izuku confirmed, his expression grave. "House Thornfield is not just campaigning; they're preparing for a legal overthrow if it comes to that. They believe Emeric can lead better than the current king, and they're gathering both political and financial support to make that happen."
Together, they strolled through the vineyards; the path illuminated by soft lights that cast long shadows across their path. The air was filled with the earthy scent of grapes and the distant murmur of the estate behind them, creating a serene backdrop to their conversation.
As they continued their stroll with the air filled with the earthy scent of grapes and the distant murmur of the estate behind them, the weight of their conversation deepened.
Katsuki's understanding of the broader political machinations became painfully clear, and he voiced a sharp realization. "So, the urgency for me to bear the king's child... it's cementing his rule further, isn't it?"
Izuku, feeling a solemn ache in his heart, nodded slowly. "Yes," he admitted softly. "If you bear the king's child, his rule is solidified until the child comes of age. He keeps supreme authority as the father of the so-called child of peace. Emeric's campaign would effectively be neutralized; he wouldn't stand a chance in contesting the throne then."
Katsuki's eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of his usual defiance flickering as he considered the implications. "And what if the child were not the king's?" he asked, his tone cautious yet curious.
Izuku paused, the question catching him off guard. For a fleeting moment, an image flashed through his mind—a shameful thought of red eyes framed by a cluster of freckles—before he dismissed it. "That... would complicate things significantly," Izuku finally said, his voice low. "The High Priest is aware this is possible and which is why we have made every measure to protect you. House Thornfield and their allies are no doubt scheming to eliminate you before you can fulfill your role or... take you for themselves and solidified their position."
Katsuki stopped walking, his expression not one of fear but of resignation mixed with a bitter smirk. "So, either way, I'm nothing more than a pawn in their games for power," he mused aloud, his voice tinged with bitterness.
"Kacchan…" Izuku whispered.
Katsuki nodded. "For tonight, let's put aside these burdens," he suggested, trying to reclaim some of their earlier ease.
As they continued on, Katsuki's posture eased as he plucked some grapes with a mischievous eye. This was the version of Katsuki that Izuku cherished most—the real Katsuki, behind the facade of the divine. As they discussed the creatures of legend they might encounter, Katsuki's enthusiasm was infectious, even if tempered by the reality of their journey.
"I mean, seeing a dragon would be something, right?" Katsuki's voice held a trace of childlike wonder, momentarily pushing aside the burdens he carried.
"Dragons are elusive," Izuku replied, his tone matching Katsuki's lightness, yet his eyes scanned the horizon, a habit born of constant vigilance. "But ogres are more common the farther down we travel. Less majestic, perhaps, but certainly interesting."
Katsuki's laughter echoed softly in the night, his smile genuine. "I'll take an ogre over another day cooped up with courtiers and their flattery."
As they rounded a bend in the path, Izuku's expression sobered. "How are you really handling all this, Katsuki?" he asked, his voice low enough that only Katsuki could hear.
The question made Katsuki pause, his eyes scanning the vineyards as if searching for an answer in the orderly rows of grapevines. "If it were up to me, we'd just keep walking," he admitted finally, his tone serious. "Just keep going until no one could find us."
Izuku listened silently, knowing the depth of Katsuki's longing for freedom.
"Every stop we make, I think of a thousand ways we could escape," Katsuki continued, his gaze distant. "But each plan ends the same—with us getting caught or worse... one of us getting hurt. And I can't risk your safety, Izuku. Not ever."
Izuku's heart clenched at the earnestness in Katsuki's voice, a stark reminder of the burden Katsuki carried—not just the weight of his duties, but the mantle of Izuku's safety. Something he shouldn't have to worry about when it was Izuku tasked with protecting him.
"We play the roles we have to… for now," Katsuki concluded, pushing off from the vine and stepping back onto the path. His smile returned, albeit tinged with sadness, as he changed the subject back to lighter matters. "So, ogres, huh? I suppose they'd be less trouble than dragons."
Their laughter mingled with the rustling of leaves, a brief respite from the weight of their conversation. As they made their way back towards the estate, the distant sounds of the feast drifted towards them, a reminder of the world they had temporarily escaped.
But before they could reach their destination, the subtle crackling of dried leaves underfoot ignited a tension that ran deep beneath Izuku's calm exterior. The air grew still, too still, heightening his alertness as the prickling sensation on his skin warned him they were not alone and the watcher's intent felt far from benign.
With a silent motion, Izuku drew his sword, positioning himself subtly, so that Katsuki was shielded behind him. They quickened their pace towards the estate, the surrounding quiet now charged with the threat of hidden dangers.
Katsuki's voice was low, tinged with uncertainty. "Could it be one of the knights?" he asked, trying to peer around Izuku's protective stance.
"I'm not sure," Izuku murmured back, his gaze darting through the darkness. The rustling resumed, louder this time, as if the caution of their observer had slipped. "Who's there?" Izuku demanded, his voice cutting through the tension like steel.
Instead of a threat, a disheveled knight and one of Katsuki's maids stumbled from the underbrush, their appearances and hurried attempts to straighten their garments, painting a clear picture of their earlier activities. The maid's face burned with embarrassment as she babbled an apology.
Katsuki raised his hand, commanding silence with a calm authority that belied the amusement sparkling in his eyes. "There's no need for that," he said smoothly. "I shall turn a blind I tonight as Protector Izuku escorts me back to my room."
As they turned away, Katsuki's outward demeanor remained impeccably composed, every inch the Saintess his role demanded. Only Izuku, close at his side, could see the mischievous glint that hinted at his true feelings about the interruption.
They walked back towards the estate, Izuku's hand never straying far from his now sheathed sword, his senses still on high alert. Though the encounter appeared innocuous, the initial feeling of malice hadn't entirely dissipated, leaving Izuku wary of a deeper threat lurking unseen.
Once they crossed the threshold of Katsuki's chambers, the door firmly shut behind them, Katsuki's contained laughter finally broke free. It was a sound Izuku hadn't heard in what felt like ages, unrestrained and genuine, filling the room with a warmth that pushed away the chill of their roles.
"I told you," Katsuki managed between laughs, the earlier tension dissolving in the privacy of their solitude. "Promiscuous acts, indeed."
Izuku couldn't help but join in, his chuckles a soft counterpoint to Katsuki's louder mirth. "You were right," he admitted, the laughter easing the constant edge of vigilance that defined him. "I should have known better than to doubt it."
The laughter slowly subsided, but the room remained light, the heavy mantle of their duties lifted momentarily by the shared humor and understanding. In this space, they were just Izuku and Katsuki, unguarded and real, far removed from the watchful eyes of knights and the weight of prophecy.
As they prepared to part for the night, Katsuki's smile lingered on his face, a soft acknowledgment of the evening's rare peace. Yet, as Izuku turned to leave, he noticed a subtle shift in Katsuki's expression, a hesitation that was unusual for him.
"What's wrong?" Izuku asked, pausing by the door, concern coloring his tone.
Katsuki looked away momentarily before his gaze found Izuku's again, vulnerable and uncertain. "Do you ever think about it?" he asked softly, the question hanging heavily in the air.
Izuku's brow furrowed, confused. "Think about what?"
"That night when I presented with my first heat... when I almost—" Katsuki's voice faltered, the memory clearly paining him. He didn't need to finish; Izuku remembered the night clearly, the tension that had almost tipped into forbidden territory.
Izuku's heart tightened, a soft tension settling in his chest as he gently cut Katsuki off. "Kacchan, we can't—"
The flash of hurt in Katsuki's eyes was quick, but Izuku caught it, the clench of his friend's fist speaking volumes. Yet Katsuki exhaled slowly, his anger dissolving into a resigned sigh that tugged at Izuku's heartstrings. "If I weren't the Saintess, and you weren't my protector... would it have been different?"
The weight of the question held Izuku in place, a silent confession of what ifs and could haves. He stepped closer, drawn by the pain and longing in Katsuki's eyes.
Holding Katsuki's hand, Izuku felt a familiar comfort that contradicted his usual aversion to touch. He couldn't explain why that was, but in this moment, he allowed himself to lower his defenses, drawn by the sincerity in Katsuki's request—a plea he could never deny.
Izuku's thumb caressed the soft skin of Katsuki's palm, a tender gesture filled with the unsaid. "Kacchan," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, his actions belying his earlier words.
He pressed a kiss to the center of Katsuki's palm, the familiar scent of cedar and red ginger filling his senses, hoping the gesture conveyed the depth of his feelings, the complexities that words could never fully express.
Katsuki's eyes softened, understanding dawning clear and gentle. A smile, sad yet accepting, played on his lips as he nodded. "I know," he murmured, the tension easing between them.
With a last squeeze to Katsuki's hand, Izuku stepped back, his voice steady despite the tumult inside. "Goodnight, Kacchan."
"Goodnight, Izu," Katsuki replied, the warmth of his voice wrapping around Izuku like a comforting embrace, a silent promise of their shared bond, unbreakable even by the roles they were forced to play.
As Izuku closed the door behind him, he turned to leave, but Captain Varric immediately confronted him, filling the dim hallway with his imposing presence.
"Protector," the captain began smoothly and unnervingly calm, "I've often wondered why they deemed it necessary for you to be present when the Saintess is already guarded by the king's finest knights."
His smirk was calculating, as he leaned in slightly, his words tinged with a mocking curiosity. "But observing tonight, it's become quite clear what your role really entails."
Izuku stiffened, his words hanging heavily in the air. His hand instinctively tightened on the hilt of his sword.
The captain continued unabated, his smirk turning into a full grin. "Tell me, does the Saintess taste as sweet as he looks?" The crudeness of his words was deliberate, intended to provoke.
"You're stepping out of line, Captain," Izuku retorted sharply, his voice a low growl of barely contained anger. "Such insinuations are not only inappropriate, they border on blasphemy."
The captain's amusement seemed to peek at Izuku's reaction, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "My apologies if I've offended," he said, his apology dripping with insincerity. "It was merely a jest, Protector. Good night." He chuckled softly, turning away with a leisurely pace that suggested he enjoyed the confrontation, disappearing back into the festive noise of the dining hall.
Left in the corridor's quiet, Izuku's concern deepened. He knew the captain's words were more than just idle banter—they were a veiled threat, a reminder of the dangers that lurked too close to Katsuki.