Katsuki

Chains bit into Katsuki’s wrists, iron links dragging against stone as he was hauled through the palace courtyard like a captured beast. Soldiers kept their distance holding the restraints—hands tight, eyes wary. No one wanted to be closest if the Dragonkin snapped. And he would. Ash-blond hair hung wild around his face, eyes burning like embers. Even beaten, even chained, he radiated something feral—something ancient. Scaled markings glinted beneath torn fabric, a warning of the power barely contained. “Careful,” one guard muttered. “They say Dragonkin burn armies to ash.” Katsuki smirked, blood at the corner of his mouth. “Try me.” The courtyard fell quiet as they passed beneath the balcony towers—until the air shifted. Izuku felt it before he understood it. High above, the fey prince stilled mid-step, breath catching as something deep in his chest pulled. Not fear. Not curiosity. Recognition. Green eyes locked onto the figure below. Ragged. Dangerous. Alone. Their gazes met—and the world narrowed. Katsuki froze. For the first time since his capture, his focus snapped to something beyond survival. Something unfamiliar struck through him—fast and sharp as lightning. “…what the hell…” A shout broke it. The chains jerked, dragging him forward. The connection snapped—but not cleanly. It lingered, stretched thin between them. Izuku’s heart raced. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t need to. He turned and ran.—The throne room was cold. “You want what?” the king’s voice cut. Izuku stood small beneath it, wings trembling—but his gaze held. “The Dragonkin. I want him assigned to me.” A scoff. “You? You can barely command servants, and you want a feral war beast?” “He’s strong. Loyal—if given reason. I felt it—” “You felt it?” the king laughed, sharp and cruel. “Of course you did.” Izuku didn’t react. He was used to it. “…Fine. Take him. If he steps out of line, it’s your responsibility.” Izuku bowed his head. “Yes, father”