Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Camelot, the end of spring

“Are you new to town, young man?”

Izuku looked around. His eyes landed on a stout, elderly woman, staring at him through the crowd.

“Actually, uh, yes. I am to meet someone in the castle today!”

Izuku struggled to confront the open, demanding gaze of the perfect stranger, much to his displeasure.

“How were you able to tell?” He asked, nonetheless.

“This is the upper town, boy. Close to the castle. Fanfare like this is common in these parts, so if you’re sticking around, you’d better get used to it.”

The people of Camelot differed on every level to Izuku’s neighbours, Izuku realised—in how their booming voices reached the depths of their lungs; in how they moved with purpose when weaving through these crowds.

Berandom, Izuku’s home, was sparse, and his neighbours spoke in harsh whispers and behind closed doors.

“Right.” Izuku nodded, and she was swallowed into the crowd.

It was an uncharacteristically bright day when Izuku found himself jostling against this fierce crowd to dig deeper into the market square.

He was torn between gaping at the towering stone townhouses and holding his gaze down to his feet lest he risked being swept away into the maze of cobbled streets and winding alleys. Camelot was certainly a remarkable sight, he thought, though he resented that the day he was to arrive in this living, breathing marvel—just…just look at the statue of the towering horse in the centre square!—was also the day that so many others were also eagerly awaiting to do the same.

To walk through the grand stone archway flanked by two large, circular towers.

To enter the castle courtyard.

And let me tell you, never had Izuku seen a monument so grand!

Bathed in mid-morning sunlight the castle’s countless towers imposed on all those at its feet. Sprawled on a verdant hill, encased by lush greenery and shades upon shades of spring flowers, it had a beauty that took Izuku’s breath away.

He continued his path.

Through the archway now.

Suddenly—

He stopped.

Shocked still.

The magnificence of Camelot castle—for all its splendour, colour, and life—now filled Izuku’s lungs with smoke.

A burning sensation of fear bloomed incessantly.

A feeling so intense it dulled his ears, rendering him unable to follow the excited musings of the children at his feet.

At the centre of the castle courtyard laid a mighty pyre with hundreds of wooden skewers encircling a post—and tied to it was a young man…a boy, really…encased by thick ropes.

His naked body was beaten black and blue, his eyes filled with a dull, resigned rage.

Despite Izuku’s lack of experience with the delights of a large town like Camelot, he understood the meaning of the pyre.

The meaning of the townsfolk milling around and craning their necks to get a glance.

Everyone in the kingdom, no matter how remote, understood.

A sorcerer had been discovered.

And they had to be punished.

Some weeks ago, Berandom Forest

You would have searched a long time for the sort of magnificent townhouses, winding cobbled lanes, and well-kept gardens for which Camelot was so admired for around these parts. Instead, the homes in Berandom lay close to the ground, the gardens were functional rather than beautiful, and the cobblestones laid down by the age-old conquerors that once made camp in this land were fading to the wilderness.

Little Edie had run off again—that is, Edith the daughter of the village seamstress and her reluctant-to-work husband who often frequented the tavern at this time of day.

It was nearing twilight now.

If the villagers failed to find Little Edie before nightfall then they would have to abandon their gentle-tempered nonchalance at the situation and expand their search.

And that could not happen.

Izuku stepped over brambles, scrunching under his feet as he pushed forward into the towering Berandom forest.

“Edith!” He shouted, his throat raw.

Alas, he heard only the mild musings of a song thrush, or the turn of a breeze—but no response from the little girl.

She must be here, Izuku thought, reminding himself that the bluebells had sprouted just the other day, and that Little Edie was so endeared to—

“Hello?”

Izuku perked—the voice certainly did not belong to Edith: the daughter of the seamstress and the drunk.

No. This was the yell of an older man.

Izuku started in its direction.

“Is someone there? Do you need help?” Izuku shouted into the abyss.

The sun remained in its purgatory, threatening to dip lower and cast a disheartening darkness over his space. Yet, for now, there were orange tendrils lighting Izuku’s path, and a burn of curiosity driving him forward.

There was a stranger hunched over a scatter of glass containers and loose parchment, nestled between a clearing of oak trees.

A gust of wind blew fiercly, dispersing the parchment into the sunlit space between.

“Oh!”

Izuku jerked into action.

He leapt into the clearing between a cluster of trees, grasping at the parchment in the air.

“I am eternally grateful, young man!” The man hurriedly gathered his belongings.

Izuku stumbled forward with two handfuls of well-inked parchment.

“Here you go! It really is no problem. No problem at all. Um—”

Izuku’s hand found his hair as it often does when he feels so unsure of himself.

“Say, I’ve never seen you in these ends. Not that…I know many travel far and wide to see the Berandom Forests! It is just that-that, we are quite a small village and if you were to have stopped there I would surely know…”

Izuku forced his eyes to glide away—keeping them glued to the wild garlic on the forest floor, or to the holly shrub to his left.

Anywhere but at the stranger.

“I am a visitor to your community!” the man exclaimed, “In fact, I must agree about the Berandom Forest. I, find myself here on an important quest to locate some betony leaves. You see, I am the court physician at the Camelot castle and betony is an important but rare herb to treat ailments. I was told by a…well, advisor of sorts that I may find some here.”

The man’s vibrant and booming voice did not belong in a village as hidden and quaint as Berandom.

Izuku looked up.

He had bright blue eyes framed by a sunken face. Izuku could tell that perhaps one day, many moons ago, the man may have been considered handsome. He towered over Izuku even though he was hunched over. Wrinkles adorned his cheeks and forehead.

But his smile was wide and made him look spritelier than any of the adult men of Berandom.

Izuku could not help himself. His eyes lit up at the mention of a great quest.

“Well! Where do I start?”

Izuku grinned widely, too.

“I know all about betony, the villagers tend to use it a lot. However, I fear you may have made the trip too soon. The betony grows in the woodland clearings just a few yards north of here, but we are more likely to find some later in spring. I’m sure we can have a look. I’ll take you. I know my way around the forest so I would be happy to help in a quest so noble!”

The man appeared thoughtful for a moment, but answered quickly, “Of course. And how rude of me to not introduce myself, I am Yagi.”

“And I am Izuku!”

The smile on Izuku’s face remained solid.

They traipsed through layers of shrubbery at Izuku’s direction. And Izuku described his own quest on this journey, to locate Little Edie and bring her back to hearth.

“Does she often come here to play?” Yagi questioned, dipping his body under a protruding branch.

“She is quite adventurous, so I thought she may be here.” Izuku answered.

“Ah, I see. Quite astute.” to which Izuku mumbled his denial, ears burning hot at such an…an unnecessary remark! “You must be close to her, no wonder you are so concerned.”

Izuku burned even brighter—but this time with white hot shame.

“Actually, I’m not sure we have spoken even a word to each other,” a deliberate laugh spilled through Izuku’s teeth, but he grinned nonetheless against the force of Yagi’s gaze, “Actually, I tend to keep to myself.”

“Why is that? You seem like a bright, energetic young man!” Yagi exclaimed disbelievingly.

Izuku wondered.

“Ah, well, you see.. I do prefer to keep to myself…” he found himself repeating, at a loss for further words, “But I am often keeping my mother company. So, you must not think I am wasting away. We have lots of fun with each other.”

Somewhere along the way his smile relaxed into something real.

Yagi nodded. Forged ahead.

They ploughed through the belly of Berandom.

“So,” Izuku started, “what is it like working in Camelot? I have only ever heard stories from my mother—of great battles, mighty knights…” his eyes sparkled.

Izuku looked over his shoulders and Yagi appeared…thoughtful.

“Well, it is certainly exciting. But…” he looked thoughtful, “life in Camelot is full of tough decisions, I am afraid. The Kingdom is newly enjoined, as you would know. I fear we are in a period of growing pains.”

Izuku nodded pensively, “I can hardly imagine the challenges faced in such a prominent place, at such a momentous time. I know hardly anything about it. You must live…well, you must live a hectic life.”

Izuku’s resolve strengthened!

“We must try as hard as possible to make sure we find these betony leaves. We are not too far from Camelot, but I would hate for you to have wasted your time.”

“Young man, have you ever—”

“Ah! You see, we would usually find betony leaves in this clearing. Yes—right by the ravine. I do not see any though…”

They had arrived at a minor clearing of trees, followed by a deep valley.

A river flowed between two ragged cliffsides, the earth moistened by weeks of unending rainfall; the dipping sun painted the water a sparkling orange as it flowed thirty yards below. Izuku stole a precious second to admire the scene. And turned to see what Yagi—

Izuku almost flinched in surprise to find the man’s eyes already on him.

Watching thoughtfully. That look again…

It made Izuku’s skin prickle, and he felt suddenly anxious.

What are you…there is nothing here! Izuku thought, desperately wishing to unstick the old man’s eyes from his form.

A shrill cry split the dense silence between the two. Shattered it.

They both jerked towards the offending sound. And there she was, a little girl hidden behind the trees on the opposite cliffside.

Separated from them by the vast empty space of the ravine.

The wet eyes, reddened nose and bluebell-smeared tunic…why, it could only be Little Edie, the daughter of the seamstress and the drunk.

She shook like a scared girl yearning for home.

Izuku reached deep into his lungs and expelled, “Edie! We found you! Please do not cry…it is okay, I promise we will get you home.”

He smiled reassuringly.

Any tears she might have been holding back spilled out, as did a cry of relief.

“Be careful!” Yagi shouted, but it was too late.

Little Edie’s foot slipped on the moist earth.

She attempted to grasp something—anything!—to give herself purchase but—

Her body was yanked into the ravine’s dangerous gravity.

Her fate had been sealed.

Everything stopped.

Izuku’s heart willed on its own, forgoing the need for permission, instruction—shattering his hard-earned instinct for self-preservation.

He did not—could not—think twice before he stretched his palm out towards the cliffside, yelling ‘STOP’ within the confines of his mind.

And stop it did—the orange tendrils of sunlight bounced between leaves suspended above the ravine; it twisted around the body of Little Edie, who was floating atop the ravine like a piece of very thick parchment whisked off the forest floor wrapped in a fierce wind.

As if she herself had been caught in a mighty gust.

Little Edie curled towards Izuku and Yagi, through the stark silence between the cliffsides.

Izuku’s heart stopped still.

In that moment...as she made her way through the ravine…

Izuku could not help up marvel at her form. The way the sun’s dying rays caught her gliding body, caught on the blue stains on her tunic. A beauty which dulled even the threatening edges of the treacherous ravine. Izuku—

Izuku could not help but bask in the moment as his blood thrummed powerfully in his veins—fingers stretching wider than he thought possible, breath lodged in his throat.

(He could never help himself.)

Once her feet touched solid ground, however, Edie showed no signs of relief. Rather, her eyes were begotten with fear and her voice stunned into silence.

Izuku tensed all over.

The pause was broken by Yagi who bent down and placed his hand comfortingly on her head.

“You must be Little Edie. That was quite scary wasn’t it?”

She dared not to speak, but nodded, nonetheless.

“I would have hated to see you fall.” Yagi whispered.

‘How? How? How?’

Yagi continued to sooth Little Edie.

“I know your parents must be so scared.” Little Edie cried a little harder. “So, I just had to save you.”

Izuku’s gaze snapped.

He opened his mouth to interject, but alas was beaten to the punch—

“I decided to use my power to save you. I understand that I should not be doing that, I am sure you do too.”

Little Edie, wide-eyed, stared at Yagi as he whispered conspiratorially.

“I do hope you can forgive me. All that matters is that you are safe,” He looked up and his eyes connected with Izuku’s, “as I was here.”

White hot shame curled in Izuku’s stomach.

Little Edie whipped her head up and down in a nod and promised, “I won’t tell anyone!”

Then, she broke out into loud sobs.

So, it’s true. You would have searched a long time for the sort of magnificent townhouses, winding cobbled lanes, and well-kept gardens for which Camelot was so admired for around these parts.

But, Izuku knew, a pyre of burning flesh was just as likely to be lit here as it was in a manicured castle courtyard.

Camelot, end of spring

Izuku ached to blink away the white spots that danced in his vision, but he found that he could not.

He could not move an inch of his body even if he wanted to, in fact.

Instead, his eyes were stuck on the burning man.

“This man has been accused of practicing sorcery, and we have found evidence of several potions and talismans in his abode. As is the King’s judgement, he shall be burnt at the pyre!” The herald had said before alighting the pyre with a wooden torch a moment—an enternity—ago.

Izuku could not look away from the man—boy really, he thought again. The flames licked at his body but the thick rope around his mouth remained intact, muffling any sounds the poor soul might make.

A shrill noise! It snapped Izuku’s attention away.

He searched for the source, grateful to give his eyes and heart a reprieve.

For a moment Izuku only found a sea of blank nonchalance.

“Fanfare like this is common in these parts. So, if you are sticking around you should better get used to it.”  

The memory echoed.

His eyes found the source of the shrill cry.

It belonged to an aged woman, with grey hair and deep grooves on her face as testament to her years.

Her body was hunched close to the cobblestones, with her neck craned up to watch the burning man.

She cried out a wretched noise.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down her face.

She screamed, and screamed, and screamed—her words unintelligible and raw.

Izuku could make out only a few words of her diatribe.

“Please, somebody!”

Although Izuku was not too close to the pyre, he could still feel walls of heat licking at his face, making his eyes water. He could also hear the moment the thick rope around the young man’s face snapped.

But the man—the boy—did not make a sound of anguish like this woman, despite the flames eroding at his flesh.

When he did speak amidst hellfire he only cried, “Mo-mo…”

A pyre arm splintered and fell.

“Mother.”

A searing heat collected in Izuku’s lungs and chest.

He pushed past with no thought to decency or manners.

Only when he found himself in a small clearing by a stone pillar at the edge of the courtyard was he able to close his eyes for the first time since the first flame had been sparked.

Izuku’s blood thrummed under his skin.

He hardly noticed when a delicate hand descended on his shoulder.

“Um, excuse me. Are you…are you okay?”

The touch dragged him out of his reverie.

He straightened and found himself looking down on a young girl.

“I’m—” he forced himself to regain his faculties, and blinked away the stinging in his eyes.

He realised with a burn that his eyes were no longer dry, rather his cheeks were embarrassingly wet.

Rushed to wipe it away.

“I am fine! It is just…that was…”

“It was,” she looked empathetic. Gentle. “Are you new to Camelot? I fear this is quite a regular occurrence.”

“Fanfare like this is common in these parts. So, if you are sticking around you should better get used to—”

“Right.”

For a split second, her nonchalance bothered Izuku, and a familiar heat burned deep in his chest reared its chest.

But as soon as it came Izuku buried it again, deeply.

He was filled with shame for thinking such a thing of someone who thought to check on him, a perfect stranger.

She filled the silence as soon as it came, “Not-not that it is a nice thing to get used to. Not at all!” she insisted, her cheeks burned a brilliant pink, “I just wanted to check on you. I know it is not easy to watch, especially on such an important day.”

“Is today special? I just assumed that the people were here to witness the-the burning.” Izuku righted himself, “And you don’t have to explain yourself,” he smiled, “I suppose, I understand what you meant.”

She returned his smile, “Yes, it is the crown prince’s eighteenth name-day. There will be a huge celebration in the castle, though these crowds are here for the burning. So, you are not wrong.”

He sank into the conversation.

Her name was Ochako, and she was a handmaiden to the King’s ward! she revealed. She also told him that she had a privileged position in the royal household, owed to the closeness between the royal ward and the King, and Ochako’s closeness to her in turn. So, she reassured, if Izuku was sticking around then he could rely on her.

Despite the pressing weight of the day’s events, the long travel to the capital, and the overwhelming change of environment…it could have all made Izuku crumble to his knees, but even still, Izuku felt grateful to the girl—to Ochako.

He subscribed her name to memory. Ochako. Ochako. Ochako.

And for the first time in what felt like eternity he felt his shoulders relax and lips lift into an easy smile.

“I could use your help. Could you direct me to Yagi’s accommodations? He is expecting me. It is okay if you do not know, or—” Izuku felt himself trail away, and is thankful when she cuts him off.

“You are here to see Yagi? You are well cared for already; you will not need me at all!” she thwacked his arm good-naturedly, “I’ll take you.”

He explained that he had run into Yagi in his village while he was there on a quest for an essential ingredient. That Yagi had been impressed and invited Izuku to stay with him in the castle to train as an apprentice.

Before long Izuku and Ochako were faced by rounded double doors made of oak.

Izuku moved to knock on the door but was beaten by Ochako who moved forward and opened the doors without announcement.

Izuku followed her in.

He was met with a dark, open space. With stone floors and relatively lofty ceilings. Izuku saw a neat row of small windows in the corner of the room which lit a side with noon sun. It illuminated a mountain of parchment, tomes, and objects of all shapes and sizes. The room had several large oak worktables housing a range of beakers, tubes, mortars, pestles, plants, and herbs. On a particularly shaded side of the room Izuku found a wall of shelves containing all manner of ingredients and instruments.

To Izuku it seemed any content, knowledge, or item of importance in the whole kingdom could have been found in this dark, glittering space, hidden away in the underbelly of Camelot castle.

There was a hunched figure bent over a table in the centre of the room, pouring over a tome. He hardly noticed the heavy doors creaking open.

“Yagi, it is good to see you again! I am here to deliver a precious package.” Ochako announced, and Izuku felt his face heat with embarrassment as his hands found home buried in his hair instinctively.

Yagi jerked up.

“Ah! Young Izuku. I have been awaiting your arrival. I trust you were able to make the journey all fine?”

The question created a second of silence between Ochako and Izuku, both privy to the worthless knowledge that no, it was not all fine—not exactly.

Izuku nodded, “Yes, but maybe I am more tired than I realised. The cart I took from Angliburh to Camelot was so rocky—perhaps they forgot they had a person on it rather than just vegetables and flowers, aha.”

Izuku smiled sheepishly, and Yagi moved through a sea of loose parchment and a maze of oak to meet him.

“Anyways, I hope to see you both at the feast tonight! I must go pick out mine and Himiko’s lunch.”

Ochako smiled brightly and waved at both.

When Izuku smiled back he knew it was genuine. He felt a kindness towards her which settled warmly in his stomach.

Yagi directed Izuku further into the open space. They sat at a low table on chairs rather than at the worktables on stools.

Yagi revealed that he had kindly picked up lunch in anticipation of Izuku’s arrival. Several foods were placed on the dark wood, and Izuku could tell with a warmth spreading through his chest that court physicians perhaps did not often eat such fine foods. Izuku heartily took in the meat pie filled with honey-sweetened beef, sheep’s milk cheese, bread of wheat, and early cherries. Yagi even brought butter!

“The food here ith’ ‘tho good!” Izuku exclaimed between bites.

Yagi’s smiled shyly, “I know you had a tough journey so...And I wanted to make sure my new apprentice has a warm welcome, of course! You will find I have some friends in high places, but I would not get too used to the honeyed meat.”

Izuku’s cheeks were swollen with Camelot’s finest, and his heart thrummed in gratitude.

Over lunch Yagi explained his laboratory. That he has sleeping quarters up the stairs at the back of the room. And that Izuku will be staying there while he was to be here in Camelot. When Izuku tried to vehemently deny the privilege Yagi’s expression turned steely, letting Izuku know that it was not up for debate, and that he would have a bed made for himself in the laboratory today.

“We need not get into the particulars of your work here today. I must warn you, I will certainly make an effort to teach you some of my craft but other than that there is not much grunt work I can offer you while I work my hours as a physician.” Yagi admitted, “Hopefully we can find you something to do in the castle, so you don’t get bored.”

Izuku eagerly nodded in agreement, happy to earn his keep but also to explore this mighty castle.

Izuku was escorted to his room after finishing with the food. It was a small but respectable space with lofty ceilings, stone walls, and a simple wooden bed hidden in the corner underneath a modest window with a straw-filled mattress. There was also a wooden chest for his personal belongings and a low wooden stool.

In Berandom he shared his space with his mother in their open plan thatched roof hut. Between the two of them it felt like ample space. Here, all to himself for the first time in nineteen years of life, the small room with the small window felt incredibly vast.

After unpacking he went downstairs to meet Yagi.

“The castle is quite hectic so I’m sure you can slip by and see a little bit yourself.” Although feeling a tad sleepy after such a rich lunch, there was nothing Izuku wanted more than to explore.

“But before you go…” Izuku glanced at Yagi, jilted by his sudden shift in tone, “I must ask, young man, what did you make of the display this morning? I am sure you crossed path with—”

“—with the burning?” Izuku interjected, he had to.

A deep silence followed.

Izuku went through a codified set of steps established in his thoughts, wondering how to put his answer into words, where to define the contours of honesty.

What did Yagi want to hear?

What did Izuku make of it?

“Watching it made me feel uncomfortable. Honestly, um, I was terrified. I am still terrified. I feel unsafe and self-conscious.” He admitted.

Yagi’s eyes were transfixed on his face.

“But—” Izuku continued, with a firmness, “I understand. It was horrifying to watch. I felt-I felt appalled watching his mother,” he noted the wetness in his eyes, “however, I understand why it had to happen. Everyone understands the dangers of sorcery—it is a path of self-preservation. It is...understandable, of course.”

When he raised his chin and looked at Yagi firmly, he found that Yagi’s expression was almost indecipherable. Almost.

Izuku noted the slightest hints of displeasure.

“I am sure that is what you believe in your heart, yet I can see that you cannot help but shed a tear for that young boy. So, listen to me clearly when I say this and take it to heart, young man, the power that we are born with creates many different opportunities, but we must not persecute for actions not yet done. The moment we become blind Gods is when humanity is lost, I believe.”

Some weeks ago, Inko’s home

Yagi found Izuku’s home charming. It was an isolated hut nestled between trees and shrubbery, and built of white-washed wattle walls with a thatched roof atop, surrounded by early spring flowers such as wild daffodils and cowslips. The most charming feature was the large bed of lavender flowers which he found uncharacteristic, if not beautiful, of a peasant yard garden.

After delivering Little Edie to the seamstress Izuku invited Yagi to have dinner with his mother and stay the night, given that the sun had long danced its path beyond the horizon.

Although, Yagi noted that the invitation tittered between the boundary between tension and warmth.

Walking up the stone path to Izuku’s residence Yagi found a short woman tending to some wild garlic plants.

“Mother, I would like you to introduce you to someone.” The woman straightened, clearly not expecting a visitor.

Yagi was immediately endeared by the stark similarities between mother and son.

Inko and Izuku lived in a home packed with belongings, giving it a warmth which reminded him of his workroom. Before long, they were sitting on wooden benches in front of a small table decorated with rye bread, duck eggs, and pottage made with leeks, carrots, and cabbages. The three topped this meal with slices of an apple Inko brandished with urgency upon seeing an unexpected guest in her usually empty space, and some hazelnuts which Izuku had foraged earlier that day from forest.

“I thank you kindly for the meal you have provided me.”

Inko blushed, “It is really no problem at all! We hardly get visitors, so I must perform my guest duties whenever I get the chance.”

Still, Yagi thought, it is very generous. Especially considering that his presence was creating tension between his two guests, rooted in a whirlwind of unasked and unanswered questions he was sure.

After supper Yagi stepped out of their home to sit on the bench in their yard, offering them some reprieve.

Inko looked at Izuku with fear in her eyes.

He explained what he had done for Little Edie.

“Did he see?”

“I think they both saw.” Izuku dreaded the look on her face—of pure fear—so he resolutely looked down at his feet, “He convinced her it was him! I should have corrected him...I know I should have. But. Surely this shows that he does not mean any harm!”

“I’m not angry or frightened, Izuku.” she said softly. The gentleness eased some tension from his shoulders. “I will never be angry at you for using your powers when someone needs them. I know you are being as careful as you possibly can. I-I dislike that I may have given you cause to think that I would be displeased by anything you would do.”

Inko’s words were unexpected, each syllable squeezing his heart, pulling it in a new direction. Fresh tears sprinkled from of the corner of his eye. And once they started, other droplets soon followed.

“Have you spoken to him about it yet?” He shook his head. The walk from the forest to the seamstress had been dominated by Little Edie’s fascination with Yagi, and the walk to Inko’s home pleasantly silent.

“Go outside and speak with him about it. Make sure he is okay doing this for you. And that he knows that he does not have to.”

Izuku agreed.

When Izuku went outside all remnants of light had disappeared. However, the moon was full tonight, and it illuminated Yagi’s figure on the bench by Inko’s lavender plants.

Izuku sat down beside him.

“I suppose we ought to talk about the ravine, and Little Edie.”

Izuku hummed in agreement, leaving the air open between them for Yagi to voice his questions, apprehension and perhaps his disgust.

Yagi spoke, “I have met so many sorcerers in my time. Before the Great War they were not hard to come by in Camelot, even around these regions,

I was fascinated with it as a child, and wanted to explore how it worked. How I understand it now is that man and woman may cast enchantments but should have something to draw their power from, whether a spirit, an enchanted talisman, or there were some with an innate ability to draw magic out of nature. But these practitioners needed to anchor their intention through verbal spells and incantation. There is great power in words spoken.”

Izuku never could have guessed that such words would come out of Yagi—they shocked him frozen.

His power, one which he buried under layers of denial and misdirection deep in his heart, had resisted his scrutiny. Only in the deepest hours of the night would Izuku allow himself the pleasure of questioning its nature. Its contours.

“I was shocked to say the least when I saw you use your power to save Edith. It was very brave of you, to display your heart on the edge of your sleeve for two perfect strangers to see, not knowing how we would react.”

Izuku’s eyes watered again.

“But my question is, how on earth were you able to do it, young man?”

Izuku was startled by the question.

After a moment of silence Izuku answered, “Well, I am not sure how it works. Maybe there was an incantation? I remember yelling ‘stop’ in my mind and heart, and that’s when Little Edie started floating. Then I willed her towards me.”

Yagi was astonished to say the least, “That should be impossible! This is quite rare magic, rare indeed. Are you able to do anything beyond moving things?”

Izuku thought hard, however he realised that there were few instances in his life where he performed his powers, and so had very few memories to flick through.

“I have only tried to move things. Sometimes I can create light if I will it. But to be honest with you, Sir, I have never practiced it willingly to evaluate its scope.”

“Hah, no need to call me Sir!” Yagi smiled broadly, turning to face Izuku on the bench. “Perhaps it is because of a lack of knowledge of incantations…”

As the conversation progressed Izuku felt increasingly relieved.

Yagi cracked a fissure in the mountain that buried Izuku and Inko’s great shame.

His greatest shame...that when his body moved on its own and called upon the power from within him he felt so animated—blood thrumming with excitement and possibility. With purpose. The entire world became sharper.

“When I was a young man I lost my mother to a Saxon raid. We lived on the eastern coast you see. After her passing I travelled throughout the realm in search of its knowledge and secrets, hoping to be of some use somewhere, to someone.” A nostalgic smile graced his wrinkled face. The moonlight illuminated it hauntingly,

“This was when I was sixteen years of age. Eight years later I found myself as far as you could comprehend from my mother’s grave. I was in the western isles, a kingdom called Ierna which you may have heard of. Such a beautiful place. Evergreen. There I met a creature the people called Cu Sith, a spectral entity. When he took a corporeal form he looked like the strangest green dog. But he was strong and mighty. I fell for him, and we became friends—actually, no, we were family. For years he lived within me and aided me in the various quests I undertook as a young, fighting man. As partners.”

“You are a sorcerer.”

It was not a question.

Yagi met Izuku’s gaze dead centre—no shame, no embarrassment. No guilt.

“I was one. Cu Sith and I parted ways many, many years ago.”

A silence overtook them.

Yagi was the one to break it.

“Your magic is not something to be ashamed of. Watching you today...it was the most breathtaking spectacle I’ve ever witnessed. Simply magnificent.”

A sharp breath caught in Izuku’s throat, his chest constricting painfully.

Oh.

Yagi pressed on through Izuku’s muffled sobs, “I don’t know you very well, young man, but I can see your potential is wasted here. I’d like to offer you a job. Come with me to Camelot and become my apprentice. I am an old man, and it would be good to pass on all the knowledge I have accumulated through the years. I sense that Camelot is where you belong.”

Camelot, the end of spring

Izuku could not make sense of the winding corridors and echoey stone walls, but looked upon everything in wonder regardless—the even stone walls with bright, crimson triangle flags hung in even intervals, the intricate tapestry of the swirling bright patterns—Izuku inhaled it into his lungs.

There was considerable traffic in the halls. Servants rushing up and down the lengths carrying all sorts of items on their hips and in their arms. Izuku quietly hoped that this was not the natural tempo of Camelot, with eyes steely and footsteps determined.

A stray light blinded him, jolting Izuku cleanly away from his line of thought.

He clenched his eyes shut and shielded them with his palm.

Izuku started towards the source, walking up to a stone railing looking upon an inner courtyard.

This is…!

There were several men in shining silver armour below him on the grass. The sun must have bounced on the silver to meet his eyes, Izuku thought. He smiled eagerly at the sight of them. Knights!

Izuku quickly identified a staircase which would take him closer to the inner court field, eager to see the knights and their swordplay in close quarters.

Once he reached the ground floor he decided to move even closer. He could make out three men in suits of armour and one in what he assumed was servant’s garb because his clothing was not too different from his own, actually—a thin white shirt and loose trousers.

Izuku joined the sparse crowds forming on the outskirts of the grassy area. Eager still, he delicately pushed passed to secure an unobstructed view.

The young blonde boy in sparkling silver partial armour—Izuku assumed he did not bother to put his full suit for a leisurely day of celebration such as this—had his finger hooked in the string of a mighty bow, his eyes steely in concentration and his head tilted in a way which defined his cut jaw.

Izuku was transfixed, having never held a bow and arrow himself. He held his breath until the knight decisively released the string, letting the arrow fly.

Izuku’s head whipped to follow its trajectory.

He was visibly shocked when he saw it was aimed not at a traditional target but at the boy in commoners’ garb. The arrow missed his ear by a few inches and embedded itself into the wooden slate behind him with an audible thump.

The audience stirred at the near miss.

The peach on the servant’s head, Izuku noticed...that is the target.

The knight lowered his bow and rolled his shoulders. Without the bow obstructing Izuku’s view he could identify that the boy’s features were twisted uglily as he sneered at the target—the person, Izuku thought indignantly.

“Hey! I told you not to fucking move! If I clip your ear then you will only have yourself to blame, you commoner.” He snapped mightily across the courtyard, and Izuku bristled.

Neither the knights nor the audience stirred at the sharp-edged shout.

“Now let’s try this again?” He looked at his knightly companions who smiled encouragingly. Amused.

For the first time on this inauspicious, brilliant, harrowing, golden day Izuku was distracted from the fear growing in the confines of his mind by the burning rage in his heart, which he supposed may have been buried by more pressing priorities. But seeing this vile knight brandish his gilded weapon against the shaking, pale man who looked as if he were whispering prayers under his breath caused Izuku to burn bright all over.

One second he was gaping at his fellow audience to observe their reaction, and then to the knight’s elbow jutting out, pulling the bowstring back once again. And in the next second, Izuku was staring down the tip of the arrow a few yards from his face.

His legs moved with speed despite his knees feeling shakier than a lamb embarking on his first steps. He shielded the boy with his own body and reached his palm out towards the unreleased arrow.

“Hey!” Izuku cringed at how shaky his voice sounded. Izuku hoped no one could see how terribly his legs were shaking. “I am sure knights such as yourself can find a better target to practice on. So how about we-we move on?” Izuku shouted across the courtyard, hoping to keep this civil.

“Hah!?”

This was not going to be civil.

The boy’s expression twisted even uglier as he sneered at Izuku.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“My name is Izuk—”

“I wasn’t actually asking, you idiot.” The knights laughed heartily, as did the spectators.

Ignore them, he willed himself—in for a penny, in for a pound.

“Let me translate, as it appears they have ceased to teach peasants common sense these says,” the knight took long, threatening strides towards Izuku, “Who do you think you are to be interrupting my practice?”

A silence consumed the quad. Izuku realised the boy wanted an answer this time.

This whole situation filled Izuku with dread.

‘So much for not bringing attention to myself.’

“I’m-I’m nobody!”

“You hear that everyone, he’s nobody!” The spectators standing idly at the perimeter of the quad burst out in laughter. The sneer grew deeper on the knight’s expression. If that was even possible, Izuku thought.

Izuku’s hatred towards the boy assumed clear contours inside him. Its shape willed his mouth to keep speaking, much more clearly this time. He reached deep into the back of this throat,

“I do not know who you are, or how good you may think your shot is. But-but this boy is clearly afraid and-and it is not right—”

“Not right? That is my manservant.” The boy spat out, “He belongs to me. To do with as I wish.”

Izuku scrunched his brows in derision.

“He doesn’t belong to anyone!” Izuku shouted—no one existed anymore, not the servant, nor the nonchalant audience, not even the two knights flanking the boy.

Just them—two unequal forces colliding.

“You must have a death wish.”

“And I thought you must be a knight, seeing as you are wearing such fine silver armour.” Izuku bit back, looking the boy dead in his eyes, “My mother told me stories of knights all my life, how their bravery and chivalry transcend these lands, how they prize their honour above all to protect those who cannot defend themselves. She wanted to raise me in their image. But I can see there is no honour to be found here.”

The words spilled out of Izuku without a second thought, and in a single, tense breath too.

As soon as he finished he inhaled deeply, keeping his eyes trained on the boy.

Izuku vaguely noticed the barking laughter from the two bystander knights, ‘Go back to your mother and leave us be then, you runt’ he registered. They were teasing him.

But the centrepiece had no amusement, derision, or teasing in his gaze.

Only pure contempt. A burning rage. Izuku conquered an inch of his senses when he realised with a heavy heart I have never seen someone so angry before.

Izuku blinked and it was too late, the boy was on him in a second. His hands fisted in Izuku’s clean white shirt and yanked him close.

“How dare you speak to me like that…” He was no longer loud and brash, but instead his tone took a deadly quiet quality.

Izuku’s throat was suddenly parched, but he dared not to swallow. They were locked in a deadly battle of wills and any movement could signal weakness.

‘I’m sorry, Yagi.’

“I could take you apart in one blow.” The boy threatened, venomous. A promise.

Izuku tilted his chin defiantly, meeting his eyes dead on.

“I—I could take you apart with less.”

For such a confident, but not entirely unfounded, statement it came out stuttered and pathetic, Izuku thought.

The boy flung Izuku, who landed on his back with a thump. Once Izuku regained his senses he noticed a sword had been thrown at his feet.

“Pick it up.”

Say no. Refuse. You will die.  

Izuku had no choice with only a second to pick up the heavy, double-edged sword. It was nearly three feet in length and terribly heavy. Izuku barely managed to raise it above the ground before he noticed a shadow barrelling towards him.

He flung himself out of the boy’s sword’s path, just barely.

‘He’s trying to kill me!’

Izuku’s life meant nothing to him.

By the time Izuku found his balance once again his opponent was flying towards. He moved with both grace and aggression. Precise.

His right arm arched in the air, the sword tip flying close to Izuku’s left cheek. It would have made a cutting contact if Izuku had not flung his body backwards as fast as he could, taking a hasty step back to support his weight.

But the fighter did not stop there. He stepped forward, destroying the distance between them, and rewound his hand gripped on the hilt of the sword backwards on its trajectory, slamming fiercely into Izuku’s right cheek.

Izuku was knocked on his back once again with the force, a blistering pain flooding his senses as he tasted iron on his tongue.

Lying there, helpless, with his useless sword slipping out of his fingers, Izuku ought to have given up.

But he raised his head and was met with the full form of the faux knight. Although his figure was backlit by the high sun which darkened his silhouette, Izuku could still identify the arrogant, ugly sneer on his face.

Izuku had never met nobility in his life, but bullies were a plenty in Berandom. He recognised them anywhere. Perhaps their presence is what united the disunited kingdom. Izuku’s form belonged on the ground, and the boy’s soaring in the skies.

‘Please.’ Izuku willed his heart with his single-tracked mind, ‘Take him down.’

It happened before common sense could regain control of his damned, nasty soul. The boy’s foot caught in a small hole in the ground, very conveniently placed, and very certainly not present a second earlier. Before his sword could descend on Izuku his calf locked and he fell to the floor on his side.

Any jeers, taunts, or insults from the audience dissipated into the late spring air. Everyone froze.

Izuku was horrified to think, I did that, right?

The silence stretched throughout the vast grassy space of the training quad.

A thick wave of shame rolled through Izuku’s body, burning hot and fierce. From the ground he looked at the frozen form of the young boy in front of him, not even two yards away.

I just used magic to humiliate him. I am no better than he is. What if he is younger than me? He definitely is, Izuku mused, marking his unblemished, pale skin and childish, twisting expressions. He certainly looked young with his body curled up on the grass on its side.

Izuku launched his body forwards with haste and walked towards the boy.

Wordlessly, he offered his hand to him.

The boy swatted it away just as fast, his face settling into a frustrated grimace, eyes refusing to meet Izuku’s and instead remaining stuck on the ground.

Slowly, carefully, the boy rose from the ground, and Izuku dropped his hand.

The unadulterated rage had slipped away from the boy’s features. Now, he was expressionless. The only marker of emotion was his bright red cheeks.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“My-my name is Izu—”

“I don’t care.” He snapped, “On whose authority are you in this castle? I need to know in order to get you hanged.”

Surely, he is not serious.

‘He looks serious.’

“I-I-I’m here on behalf of Yagi, he’s the cou—”

“I know who he is.” The boy seemed frustrated, the rage returning to his face in subtle shades.

Izuku winced.

‘Stop riling him up, you stupid boy!’

“Well, he has taken me on as an apprentice! I am to stay with him...indefinitely.” The boy’s sneer stretched impossibly at the word.

For a tense moment Izuku was concerned that the fight would resume. His mind raced with possible strategies, just in case.

Surprisingly, the boy flung his sword to the ground.

“Stay out of my way, stupid commoner.”

Really?  

The delight inspired by the boy’s retreating form almost obscured the shooting pain from Izuku’s bruised cheek.

He sheepishly looked around at the sparse crowd, but the lords, ladies and servants of court had better things to tend to on such a day and had already turned away from the spectacle.

Only the servant who had served as target practice remained, and he walked up to Izuku.

“Look, you didn’t hav’ta do that.” He chastised, and Izuku barely schooled his expression at the boy’s words. Izuku’s thin veneer of composure was maintained only by his observation that the manservant was still visibly shaking from the ordeal. “He’s jus’ gonna be harsher on us, and I’ve probably lost my job.”

Izuku winced, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his palm, unsure of what he should say.

“But...thank you. Or whatever,” The servant’s blotchy white skin tinted rose as he spoke, which Izuku found endearing, “I hate that they toy with me like that. Hate that I let them. So...So, I liked it when you said those things to him. Even if he begs me to remain in his service I’ll say no!”

Izuku thought that the earnest gratitude in his voice shined through his attempts to hide his discomfort.

“This is my first day in Camelot, and I’ve never been to such a large settlement before in my life!” Izuku explained, smiling shakily, “I really did not expect knights to be so...horrible.”

The servant cracked a smile at that too, “Yes, you’d think he would be a good one, though.”

“In what way?”

“You should probably know that the boy you fought with is the prince.”

“Oh. Um, one of the princes?” Izuku offered hopefully.

“No, the only prince. Prince Katsuki. Ya really must be from the villages.”

“Thankfully the bleeding has already stop, and the bruise should be gone in a few days.” Izuku winced as Yagi spread a cool salve on his swollen cheek. Izuku shifted uncomfortably on the wooden stool, keeping his eyes trained on the newly made feather mattress in the corner of the workroom.

Izuku stewed in his mortification. Here he was, first day in Camelot, and he had already created trouble for Yagi—the one who had generously taken a chance on him.

“You barely know me.” Izuku had told Yagi while sitting on his mother’s bench by the lavender bed on that moonlit night after the incident at Berandom forest.

“I do.” Yagi had replied.

But he was wrong, Izuku thought now as Yagi finished applying the cool salve.

“So, Alphard mentioned that you ran into Katsuki.” Yagi supplied when Izuku did not fill in the silence.

Alphard was the prince’s manservant who had kindly escorted Izuku to Yagi’s workroom before bidding them both farewell.

“I did not know he was the prince.” Izuku defended.

Yagi bit out a laugh, “Do not worry, young man. No one is blaming you for what happened. I am sure you had an exceptionally good reason to risk earning this bruise.” He playfully poked Izuku’s bruise, to which Izuku’s lips fell into a small frown.

“I never imagined this state of affairs in Camelot.” Izuku tilted to look at Yagi head on, “From the burning man to this-this spoilt prince, I really don’t believe that I have a place here.”

The admission eased the pressing tension burdening Izuku’s shoulders. He was one step closer to returning to his mother and her modest, thatched hut. To home.

He watched Yagi’s expression closely, and saw that he was not dissuaded in the least. Instead, he smiled gently.

“I understand about the morning’s events. But really, Katsuki is more bark than bite. And I personally believe it would not be right to compare his person and virtues to the average person. He has grown up in very specific circumstances which no one can relate to, you see. How do I word it...under unique pressures.”

‘Yes, he should be held to an even higher standards of person and value!’ Izuku’s tongue fought to release the cutting words, but he restrained himself back out of his respect to Yagi.

“Come on, you can be honest with me.”

Caught.

“A prince should set an example.” Izuku translated.

“Yes, yes I do agree.”

Yagi walked away from Izuku towards a shelf of mismatched vials. He idly began sorting through, searching for something.

“But I think we ought to give Katsuki some time and space to grow into his own person. He is turning only eighteen today, and to an old man like me that is still a child.”

Izuku thought that eighteen was plenty old. He turned away from the thought. Instead, he felt emboldened enough to bring forth a topic which has plagued him since that night Yagi offered him a place in Camelot by his side.

“You invited me here even though you hardly know me. I have learned more about our kingdom in one day than I did in the last nineteen years, and I have loved and hated every new thing I have been faced with. And beyond this, I have to—to—” Izuku broke into a whisper, “hide myself every second, or risk exposing myself to a death sentence.”

Izuku took a deep breath and looked to his aching feet.

“I—I just—”

But Yagi interrupted before he could finish his final thought.

“I understand you have questions. And I admit my invitation was strange, and I have not explained myself very well.” Yagi picked out a vial from the shelf and walked towards Izuku, facing him as he continued, “In my opinion, you might be growing hesitant because you perhaps sense that you do not have the complete story...of why you are here. I promise to reveal everything which includes my intentions in inviting you, and why we crossed paths in the first place.”

Izuku was perplexed, receiving more questions than answers.

“I did find you some work for tonight, serving wine to some of the king’s guests at the feast. Ochako was supposed to help you. But you need not come if you do not wish. I can tell that you need the rest. In exchange for being excused, would you be able to run two final errands for me?”

Izuku hesitated.

“I promise you, young man, perform these tasks and at the end of tonight we will stand in these very spots and we will continue this conversation. I will ask you where you think you think you belong, and you will answer with your heart.”

Izuku nodded.

“Okay.” He whispered, finally.

“Okay.”

Yagi brandished a small glass vial containing a clear, thick liquid.

“The King has a revered singer coming in today to sing at Katsuki’s name day feast. I believe her name is Althea. I am told she has arrived already, and she has requested a tonic for her throat. She is currently residing in the Western Sunroom, in the west wing which I know you might be familiar with now. It is right by the training quad. Take this to her. Second, I want you to go to the bottom-most floor of the western wing, walk along the corridor until you find a thick tapestry depicting a blue swan. I want you to make sure the corridor is empty and lift the tapestry. If you push through the wall there will be an opening. I want you to walk through the passageway and down the stairs until you are unable to go any further. The rest will be self-explanatory. Am I understood?”

Izuku had latched onto every word of the instructions, and found that he no longer had any fight left in him to resist Yagi.

“Gimme the tonic.”

It had not taken long for Izuku to reach a curved oak door with a small sun symbol etched into its skin. Izuku knocked without hesitation. Perhaps the day’s hesitation had been expelled out of him by the brash, violent force of a sword hilt connecting with his cheek.

“Come in,” A sweet voice radiated from behind the closed door.

Izuku grasped the doorknob and stepped into Althea’s quarters.

The Sunroom was magnificent, with giant windows which made Izuku’s own pale in comparison. There was a full-sized, canopied bed flanked by crimson curtains with an armoire and table made of sleek, glossy wood opposite.

The late-afternoon sunlight illuminated the curtains adorned throughout the room. The rays also lit the silhouette of a young woman sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from Izuku. She held a small mirror made of polished metal in one of her hands, and a brush combing through her dark waves in the other.

“I have been sent by the physician with a tonic for your voice.” Izuku spoke.

The singer turned over her shoulder to address Izuku.

His vision snapped.

One second he was looking upon a young woman’s thick dark hair. The next moment, he was staring at an older lady with deep-set wrinkles, grey hair, and oceans of rage swimming within amber eyes.

Izuku’s heart thundered in its cage, in fear, in anticipation.

He blinked harshly, and the image changed back to pale smooth skin and rosy cheeks. He blinked once again, and grey hair clouded his village.

He had never heard of the singer Althea, much less seen her in person.

The old lady who momentarily flashed before him, though…

Izuku recognised her.

“May I have the medicine?” A sweet voice called out to Izuku.

He wordlessly offered her the vial.

She looked at the wide-eyed man.

“Were you in a fight recently?”

“Oh,” Izuku touched his cheek, “yes, with a knight.”

She smiled at him.

“I am sure it was worth it. Knights are no good these days.” She smiled. Wrinkled and smooth, all at once.

Izuku smiled tensely, bowed, and took his leave.

Once Izuku turned the corner he slumped against the wall. The muscles in his back found reprieve against the cool stone.

That was...

Flashes of flames licking upwards on a cursed pyre, the hallowed screams of a woman hollowed out by grief, whispers of ‘Mother’ which only Izuku seemed to hear.

She was the sorcerer. Or perhaps, they both were?

Looking back to the moment Izuku could clearly identify a promise of revenge in the crack of her voice as she screamed her lungs raw.

‘Would she harm her king? Or...was it a son for a son that she was after?’

A small, irrational, nasty, voice whispered from the depth of Izuku’s mind in response…

Would it matter?

Izuku pretended to ignore its presence. He tried so hard.

A picture flashed through his mind, of a backlit prince towering over him as he lay on the ground, a smarmy sneer stretching across his face as he arched his sword in the air. He did not know who Izuku was, only that Izuku was below him just as Alphard was. The prince did not even need to know about his powers to curve his blade through the air with decision.

Another memory came unbidden to the surface, of Izuku thinking the King—the cruellest most debased—man as the burning man called out to his mother so desperately.

I should go to the feast and warn them, Izuku urged himself, and pictured their two silhouettes.

Yet, his body moved towards the stairs leading to the ground floor of the western wing. But first, Izuku thought, I complete my mission.

Some weeks ago, Inko’s home  

Yagi had taken Izuku’s bed roll for the night, and Izuku would share Inko’s. Yagi promised to repay the kindness to Izuku and his mother.

While the trials of the day had taken Yagi quickly to his dreams, mother and son would find no respite tonight.

They spoke in hushed whispers under dark sky which had just started showing hints of lightening.

“Mother,” Izuku began, “did you listen to our conversation?”

Inko looked at him, “No, I did not. Would you tell me what he said?”

“Well,” Izuku began, trying to plan the trajectory of this conversation but every simulation crumbled to pieces before they even began, “Well, he said he was happy to help me out with Little Edie, and that I shouldn’t concern myself with it.”

A pause.

“He also said that he used to practice magic. I am sure he would not mind me telling you.”

Inko was shocked, and her mouth fell open.

“That’s—” She began, but was unable to continue her thought. “It’s the first time you have met another one, is it not Izuku?”

Izuku nodded.

Inko was silent for a moment, before speaking out softly, “You must be so excited.”

Izuku did not expect to hear those words. Her statement cracked his façade like eggshell, and suddenly his lips wobbled uncontrollably.

“Y-yes, I am.” Inko was watching Izuku’s face carefully.

“Mother…” Izuku began, more assured now even though Inko’s expression betrayed nothing about the thoughts swimming in her mind at that moment. It was careful and utterly neutral.

“Mother, he invited me to join him in the castle. As an apprentice.”

There.  

The air was filled to the brim with the silence that overtook.

Neither spoke a word into the silence, letting it settle comfortably in the vast space between them.

After a while Inko opened her mouth to respond, but Izuku had already barrelled forward.

“I said no, Mother, and that’s that.”

He was looking away before, but now he connected resolutely with Inko, begging her to believe his certainty. He expected her to look fearful, or perhaps with shock. But when he watched her under the indigo sky he saw tears flowing gently down her rounded cheeks—her green eyes appeared almost black in the moonlight.

“No, you should go.”

Camelot, the end of spring

Izuku was grateful that the ground floor western corridor was empty. But his heart made home in his stomach when he deduced that this meant the feast must have started, and everyone in court—lords, ladies, and servants alike—were settled excitedly in the other side of the world.

He quickened his pace.

Finding the blue swan tapestry was not difficult, nor was it tricky to push aside. Attempting to kick the stone door open, however, troubled Izuku.

Now, Izuku spent his time in Berandom doing various activities to pass the time and help his mother. He liked to read most of all. Izuku hardly ever partook in the hard labour required to tend to the barley fields. He had never thought twice about it, until now when he struggled to push the stone door with all his might. He was starkly reminded of his narrow shoulders and pathetic core strength. It also reminded him of how absurdly difficult it had felt to hold the three-feet-long double-edged sword even with both of his palms gripping the hilt tightly.

Regardless, Izuku made it through. Once inside, he pushed the door closed with his back pressed against it, using all his strength.

Once the door was closed he realised that Yagi did not mention to bring a torch!

It was completely dark.

Maybe, Izuku thought…

There did not seem to be anyone here.

Hesitantly, he raised his palm, facing upwards. His heart willed, ‘come’, and his palm lit instantly. The turquoise light radiated from his hand in waves, bouncing between the narrow walls and low ceiling. It illuminated a steep stone staircase descending into the dark.

Izuku moved, one leg in front of the other—over and over again.

With every step his heart squeezed—with anticipation, with dread, but most of all, he was excited.

“You must be excited,” his mother had said at the thought the Izuku had met one of this own kind in Yagi. And Izuku felt the very same now, traversing through a secret passage winding through the underbelly of a great castle, unsure of what truth it may lead him to.

Walking resolutely through this liminal space, Izuku felt alive.

The dark silhouette of the cruel king and disastrous prince etched onto the edges of his conscience faded away in the face of this adventure. The shadows were utterly outshined.

It took some time before Izuku’s palm suddenly dimmed, eclipsed by a blinding orange light which escaped a ragged archway.

The stairs suddenly levelled into rocky ground.

Izuku had no space for hesitancy left in this wrought-out day. Instead, he confidently stepped forward.

Oh, did the sight take his breath away. It positively wrung his lungs in a firm grip.

A vast, open space unfolded before Izuku, its enormity was both humbling and awe-inspiring. The space was lit with by massive torches, too large for any man to have fixed. The mighty fires cast deep shadows on the ragged edges of the cavern, accentuating their imperfections. The walls were etched with deep grooves and fissures. In the centre of this grand chamber rose towering rock pillars, uneven and unique. They were jagged and gnarled, surfaces shimmering faintly in the low light, which revealed threads made of the minerals embedded within them.

The air was cool and damp, carrying with it a scent of stone and earth. Izuku did not dare blink. His green eyes glittered as they reflected the flickering flames. He walked forward, footsteps echoing against the rough, uneven floor pocked with small pools of still water—the remnants of eons of dripping stalactites.

He abruptly stopped still when the floor gave way to a sharp drop to depths unknown.

‘This is...‘

Izuku could not put it to words—the beauty, the horror...the enormity of this place.

His heart thundered in its cage.

It was quiet, until it was not.

Shifting rocks—a low rumbling exhale which Izuku might have missed if it were not for his immense concentration in that moment.

His head whipped left, then right, searching for the source of the sound. Perhaps a rockslide, he thought. But he knew that was not the case, as his heart believed otherwise.

The sound was deep, ancient, and alive.

He fixed his gaze on a rock pillar, half hidden by shadows, and found a tail curving around it. One might mistake it for a component of the stone, another jagged boulder in the dim light.

But Izuku knew better.

A long, serpentine tail curled around the visible base of the pillar, its scales gleaming like polished armour.

Izuku, breathless, brandished both of his palms—‘Come. Now!’

His palms burst with white light, expanding to fill every crack in the cavern. He gasped. The light illuminated the body attached to the coiled tail. Its head came into view as it twisted around the pillar to connect gazes with Izuku. Two great horns curve back from its skull, and a ridge of spines ran down its neck, disappearing into the bulk of its body grotesquely.

The creature dug its mighty claws into the pillar for purchase, then launched into the air, uncurling its expansive wings, wings! Izuku thought with delight.

This was no mere legend, nor was it a story whispered into the dark night between mother and son. This was, was-

“Dragon.” Izuku whispered.

It landed at the pillar closest to Izuku with a loud thunk, its serpentine head and defined jaw far too close to Izuku’s own, towering over him.

The creature was at least thirty feet long!

For a moment they looked at each other, both unable to turn away.

Izuku was awed, the feeling of grandeur so overwhelming it made him all thoughts of the existence of fear dissipate. The delights of Camelot castle—in its colour and extravagance—simply could not compare to this sight.

His heart knew he would not be hurt.

“Izuku.”

A powerful vibration echoed in his mind, in his bones, stringing the sounds of his name together.

Izuku heart thrummed in reverence—his eyes widening and lips falling open—absorbing the sounds into his bloodstream.

“It is an honour beyond human comprehension as I speak with you today.”  

The words played under Izuku’s skin with a powerful vibration as the dragon’s mighty head bowed to greet Izuku.

“H-Hello.” Izuku shouted into the space between them, willing the light in his hands to vanish, “I-I suppose you know my name. What is yours?”

The dragon lifted its face to connect its reptilian eyes with Izuku’s. Its thoughts and feelings were guarded—utterly undecipherable to a human like Izuku.

“My name is Kudo.”

Kudo.

“I thought-I thought that the dragons were slayed in the Great War of Union.” Izuku spoke.

“They were.”

If the history upset Kudo they did not show any signs of it doing so. Their words were painfully neutral.

“Your king kept me alive. He would never give me the pleasure of death amongst my comrades, you see.”

Izuku paused.

“You do not care for the King.” It was a statement.

Surprisingly, a low laughter thrummed in Izuku’s skin.

“No, I certainly do not.”

Izuku took that in, images of king and prince flashed unbiddenly. He supressed it.

“You said it was a great honour to speak to me. But that cannot be right. I am nobody.” Izuku did not think ill of himself in that moment—truly!—but was merely laying out his truth, “I am just an apprentice. Well...maybe I am an apprentice.”

“You are no apprentice, and you are no man. You are a sorcerer.”

“Yes, but—”

A booming voice interrupted, “You are one of the greatest sorcerers to have ever lived. Tell me, does that frighten you?”

Izuku’s breath caught in his throat. It stayed lodged painfully.

“Only I can reveal to you your destiny. Only I can guide you.”

Izuku thought back to Yagi, who whispered to him that he had never met a sorcerer that could have cast enchantments without incantations. That was all well and fine, but greatest there ever was? That could not have been Izuku. The fact that he was here talking with Kudo rather than rushing to the Great Hall was testament to that—Izuku was not great. He was just a boy.

Izuku buried these thoughts and instead asked, “Did you send Yagi to find me?”

“Yes, I did. Does that surprise you?”

Izuku could make no sense of this creature.

“Why?”

“To deliver you to your destiny.”

Izuku bristled at the vague, overwhelming answers he was receiving.

“What destiny? Tell me. Tell me now. Or I will leave and never come back.” Something told Izuku that Kudo wanted him close. Wanted to possess him. Consume him entirely to their world, their ideology.

“A great sorcerer will rise in slumbering lands; it is told. He will guide the Once And Forever King to his glory and bring lasting peace to the realm. Essentially. This has been foretold, and its time of fruition has come.”

“Hah!?” Izuku’s façade shattered. There is no way this is about me. “You must be talking about someone else. And once and forever king? I am meant to guide them...Who—”

But Izuku halted. The once and forever king? It could only be one person.

“Wait, it must be—”

Kudo and Izuku spoke simultaneously.

“Yagi.”

“Katsuki.”

Shock and another, amorphous sensation flooded Izuku’s system. Shocked it still.

Utter disbelief.  

“HAH?”

Suddenly the thought came to Izuku that imprisoning this magnificent creature in this beautiful, expansive cavern was a genius conception, and perhaps Kudo had gone mad in his haunting home.

“Yes, Crown Prince Katsuki. He is destined for greatness—stop laughing.”

Izuku’s mouth was opened wide, and his head tilted back. He howled uncontrollably, with shoulders shaking.

“You most definitely have the wrong people for your prophecy.” Because if you cut Izuku open all you will see is wasted powers and regular flesh. And if you cut Katsuki open, Izuku thought, you would see nothing at all.

“I do not think so. My kind are never wrong about this. Only oracles surpass our prophecy abilities.”

Did he sound a smidgeon resentful?

“The prince is an ass! And you want him to bring peace to the realm? You must be joking. Does the king bring you ale down here?”

Izuku had decided at once that he must return to Berandom.

“Are you proud of yourself for conjuring that dig?”

Izuku ignored them.

“And-and surely he does not need my help for whatever reason. If he is so great let him navigate his own destiny!”

“The prince will face great dangers. The shade thrown over his eyes by his father will blind him to his purpose. You must be there to guide him and to shield him from forces that seek to being ruination to my ancestral lands. This is your fate, you must not let the fickle hatred of the human heart chase you away from it, or you will doom Albion to the mercy of that pretend king—that scoundrel!”

“You despise the king, but you are here campaigning for the son raised in his image. And let me tell you I have the bruises to prove that the king has been successful.”

“Katsuki will be different.”

“What on earth makes you think that?” Izuku was incredulous, “Because you have seen the future? I do not believe in this.”

“Because I have faith! Faith that the world can be righted after years of dark slumber. I believe because I want to believe.”

The force in his words almost knocked Izuku off his feet. The conviction sent shivers down his spine and erupted waves of gooseflesh in his forearms.

Faith.

“I had hoped the one chosen by the fates would be a more forgiving person.”

Izuku bristled.

Throughout the day, faced with a thousand shades of injustices, the path of hope and faith remained hidden out of Izuku’s sight.

Yet,

Yet, the clouds parted momentarily at Ochako’s smile and helping hand, at Alphard’s forced rage and attractive blush.

If you were to cut Ochako open you would find some warmth, Izuku thought. And in Alphard, you might find bravery.

Izuku sighed, and turned around. He started towards the gateway with some haste.

“You will turn your back on your destiny, child!?”

The dragon yelled urgently—it was the first hint of emotion Izuku identified in Kudo, signalling that perhaps they did have some to share.

Izuku turned over his shoulders to meet Kudo’s smouldering red eyes.

“I am going to save your stupid prince. Then...then, I will see.”

Izuku thundered through the castle to reach the Great Hall. Ochako had told him earlier you could find it through the main courtyard atop a grand staircase—impossible to miss, she said.

The clatter of rapid footsteps bounced between the stone walls as he sprinted down winding halls. His heart pounded with urgency.

‘What’s the plan, Izuku?’ He asked himself. No plan. No plan.

Torchlight flickered in the sconces, casting long, dancing shadows which Izuku’s own smudged as he barrelled passed.

He rounded a corner, nearly skidding on the smooth stone, and his breath came out in ragged gasps. The walls loomed high above him, and then he heard it.

A beautiful, smooth voice filled the warm space. Its high pitch and measured breathiness willed Izuku’s eyelids close—but he stood firm. Eyes wide open.

He hauled himself and walked hesitantly up to the magnificently detailed tall iron doors. The voice lured him into a calmness that threatened to eclipse his urgent frustration at not coming here straight away.

He pushed the doors open.

The sight was a strange one.

The Great Hall was magnificent with floor to ceiling stained glass windows bouncing candlelight throughout the room. In the centre there was a horseshoe table which housed lords, ladies, knights, nobility, and children. The dais which held members of the royal household was in the front of the horseshoe on a raised platform—on it Izuku found three slumped figures.

All invitees were hunched over their table in a deep slumber, their faces pressing into plates of luxurious food—their mouths open obscenely.

In another context, the image painted here was one of greed.

In the centre of the room, amidst the slumbering nobles stood a lady in a beautiful purple gown, with puffed tulle sleeves embedded with sparkling gems, and with a smile stretched on her face. She exuded beauty and serenity as she sang. Upon a closer glance, however, her smile was too wide...too fanatic. She did not cease her song as she grasped a dagger in her hands and started towards the royal family.

She drank in the pleasure of every step.

Izuku’s body leapt into action, waiting for neither command nor doubt.

He threw his body at Althea, tackling her to the ground.

Izuku found he was no longer shaking like he had done earlier in the quad.

He felt Althea struggle underneath him. Izuku threw his weight on top of her to prevent escape. Then, he decisively located her brittle wrists and pressed then on either side of her face harshly against the stone floor.

When he gaped at her countenance he was faced with swimming visions of dark and grey—of smoothness and wrinkles.

“I know you!” He exclaimed, though his words were strained, “You were the sorcerer’s mother!”

“His name was Aldous.” She hissed with venom so corrosive it brought tears to Izuku’s eyes as he loomed over her.

“I’m sorry.” Izuku said. For a second she was not there, but rather it was Inko below him. He spoke with the sadness that he thought would plague her if she were to witness Izuku whispering mother amidst towering flames and burning flesh.

“I am sorry that happened to your son. It is not fair.”

But Althea was tired of Izuku. She pushed against him mightily, attempting to overpower this skinny boy on top of her. And she succeeded.

Izuku cursed his fragility.

But he had managed to grab the dagger from her fingertips in the scuffle. He stepped forward with purpose, winding his right arm—swinging the point at her cheek. As expected she flung herself backwards, taking a step back to maintain her balance.

Izuku did not spare a second. He took a determined step forward as he retracted his daggered hand back on its trajectory, slamming the base of the hilt into Althea’s cheek. She was flung to the floor.

Althea opened her mouth but was silenced.

‘Stay down.’ He willed, and an invisible force pinned her against the ground.

Althea’s eyes widened in perplexity. Izuku kneeled beside her, shaky legs folding easily. He hunched over.

“You’re one of us.” She whispered in awe, her gaze flitting across his, “But you are helping them!” Her strangled groan clawed at Izuku’s skin desperately, “Let me. Please. Please. Please, let me slice his son’s throat in front of him, please let me force him to drink the prince up, force it down him throat, as he forced my son’s murder in front of mine. Please, please, please.”

She was shaking violently, frenzied. She choked on the corrosive sobs lodged in her throat.

“Please, please, please.”

Her begs were harrowing, nothing Izuku had ever seen before. With Izuku’s face so close to her own his swollen tears joined hers as it descended on her cheek, falling into the grooves of her disappearing wrinkles.

“I’m sorry.” Izuku choked through his own sobs, “I am sorry, but I cannot let you kill him. He-he is just a boy.”

“Then,” She choked, “let me kill the king,”

“I cannot. It is wrong. I cannot. I am sorry.”

“He’ll kill me.” She rasped, locking eyes with Izuku. “I won’t burn.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Izuku pleaded over and over and over again. But she refused to meet his eyes, instead resting a cheek on the stone floor, turned away.

“You do not deserve to die.”

Izuku hardly noticed that the guests were beginning to rouse on account of the enchanting song having stopped moments, an eternity, earlier.

But all Izuku could do was watch his tears splash on the witch’s cheek turned away.

Izuku placed the dagger in his grip onto her pinned arm.

He loosened his grip on that wrist.

He knew she could have used it to attack him. But...but he thought that she would not.

When the king—a mighty man with broad shoulders and ashy blond hair cropped short, lifted himself he was met with a strange sight.

A boy was straddling the famed singer Althea, who lay prone underneath him. Pooling around her was a sea of crimson.

He saw Yagi, his physician, rushing towards the spectacle—he lifted the shaking boy to his feet, speaking to him in hushed whispers.

But the King could hardly think any further with the urgent voices filling the hall with their panic.

“Silence!”

The voices dissipated.

“Yagi, explain!”

Yagi turned to face the King, “As I understand it, this is not Althea at all. My apprentice tells me that he recognised her as the mother of the boy you executed this morning in honour of the prince’s name-day.”

“The sorcerer I executed.” The king corrected—challenged.

“Yes, your grace.”

“She cast an enchantment to put us in deep slumber.” The King supplied.

“Yes, your grace.” The hall broke out in peals of frightened whispers. The king raised his palm, and they ceased once again.

It was undeniable who had total command over this space.

“Let me speak to the boy.”

Yagi hesitantly moved to the side, revealing Izuku’s trembling form and wet cheeks to the King’s unforgiving gaze. He could also see the bleeding form on the stone floor—no longer belonging to a young, beautiful woman but rather to a greying figure.

“How were you able to stop her?”

“Well,” Izuku started in a raspy voice, but quickly cleared his throat, “I was meant to join the festivities as a server, but I was delayed. When I came I saw everyone slumbering and the singer walking towards yourself with a knife. We had an altercation.”

“Did you kill her?”

Izuku swallowed. “It just happened.” His voice shook, and gratefully the King did not press further.

There was a pause, in which it seemed every pair of eyes in the hall was transfixed on Izuku. On any given day, their eyes might have glided away frictionlessly from his form owing to his plain features, unruly hair, and shy posture.

Today, however, he stood in the centre of the Great Hall with nowhere to hide.

Izuku’s eyes lifted from the stone floor and sought some comfort. He met Ochako’s concerned gaze—she was tucked away in a shadowy edge of the hall kneeling amongst some broken glass with other servants. Once she realised she caught Izuku’s gaze she smiled reassuringly.

Then, Izuku’s eyes flicked to the prince on the high table. His destiny. The man he just condemned a wronged soul for. He appeared frustrated, but a portion of his face was cast in shadows so Izuku could not be sure what his destiny was feeling at this moment.

His destiny, Izuku thought resentfully.

The King shattered the silence.

“Who are you?”

Izuku knew how to answer this question better now, “I am Yagi’s new apprentice.”

The King nodded carefully. He was a severe, measured man—Izuku could tell by his sharp, decisive movements. Perhaps he had seen fifty name days.

The King grasped his wine goblet and raised it.

“You have shown great bravery in stopping this hag. And you have protected your royal family.” The hall broke out in cheers, and even Yagi smiled at the outcome.

The only people who did not reciprocate the excitement were Izuku, who was disheartened by the cheers as his heart clenched in grief, and the prince whose expression remained cloaked by shadows.

“You will be rewarded,” The King remarked offhandedly.

Do not reward me, Izuku pleaded, as he kept his gaze locked on the King’s goblet to ground himself.

“I will give you a privileged position in the royal household while you work under Yagi’s tutelage. My son has had some qualms with his manservant, I trust you can fill his shoes. You will begin as soon as possible after the festivities.”

‘So...no reward then.’

Yagi pinched his side in warning. Izuku realised be must have said that part aloud.

“Hah!?” The prince finally raised his chin. His expression was one of rage, an emotion which Izuku assumed often found home in his features, “You take liberties, father. I can take care of myself. I do not need a manservant.” He bit out resentfully.

“Silence, Katsuki.” And that was that “This boy has saved your life. Remember that.”

The prince’s looked back down, and the shadows returned.

“And do you accept?” The King’s voice had an impatient tint to it. But nonetheless, Izuku remained silent for a beat. Just as reluctant as the bratty prince.

Yagi nudged him, and snapped Izuku out of his tense reverie.

“I accept.”

“Well, you could afford to seem a bit more grateful.” He bit, but there was no malice there. He had far greater concerns on his mind.

The nobility wiped the food from their faces and dug back into their meal as if nothing had happened. A few servants rushed into the clearing with cloth to scrub the blood away.

Some weeks ago, Inko’s home

“Mother, we both know a village like Berandom will be the best for me. To hide my powers! You could not possibly think it will be okay for me to go with Yagi!” Izuku snapped in a harsh whisper.

Inko nodded tearfully. The droplets danced in her vision, magnifying the eyes which were engrossed miles away in her memories rather than on the young man before her.

“I know.”

“S-so,” Izuku choked on his words, suddenly realising his own tears were threatening to spill over, “so how could you say that it’s okay?”

“Izuku…” She started, gently gripping her son’s shoulder in her palm, “listen to me carefully. I know that in some ways I have been unequipped to be the mother you deserve. E-especially after your father...left. But...but the second I held you in my arms as a babe, I knew I could love you and cherish you, as a mother should.”

She sobbed and Izuku’s heart squeezed.

“Every so often you use your magic because you tell me you had no choice but to risk exposing yourself. To save Little Edie, to throw your friend out of the path of that carriage, to the other countless times throughout your life here in this slumbering village...Every time, I was confronted with a truth that was horrifying to me, that you sometimes you would do everything in your power to assert your will. I am sorry, Izuku, for ignoring this. Because it is not shameful. It is the most sacred, most coveted element of your soul, Izuku. This instinct to protect...no one taught you this, certainly not me, nor the villagers who I begged to ignore us. This...this comes from within you, Izuku. I have known for a long time you yearn to reach into your heart and use your power. So, remember our nights when you were still a child, huddled in our hut pouring over stories of the great deeds of knights. And go be one, in your own way. I promise, Izuku, I will be fine. I will not stand in your way any longer.”

Rivers of salt pouring down Izuku’s cheeks.

“But you must promise me. Keep your secret dear to you. Protect it, Izuku—you must, if not for yourself then for me. And remember what I have always told you…”

Izuku nodded.

“Tame your heart, and all will be well.”