The Tokoyamiverse 3

Medival omega verse

Requested by gelatinachilera

The great hall was silent, save for the low rustle of silk and armor as courtiers and guards lined the walls. At the end of the long aisle, King Katsuki Bakugou, an alpha known for his iron will and commanding presence, stood with his head held high. His eyes, sharp as embers, roved over the figures gathered before him, his gaze pausing on one in particular.

A single figure sat upon a dark throne, carved from ebony and inlaid with shimmering gold and onyx. His hands rested on the armrests, each fingertip adorned with ruby-encrusted gloves, glittering like drops of blood. He did not rise as Bakugou commanded the court to kneel, nor did he waver or show fear. Instead, he simply looked down at Bakugou from behind a thin, dark veil that partially obscured his face, though his eyes—a piercing, molten red—were visible and unyielding.

Bakugou clenched his jaw, irritated but intrigued by this defiance. No one in the kingdoms dared disobey his commands.

"Kneel!" Bakugou's voice boomed once more, resonating through the hall with a force that could compel even the most hardened warriors to tremble. Yet, this figure remained seated, tapping gloved fingers against the wooden armrest, an expression of utter boredom hidden behind that veil.

"Are you always this boorish?" a caramel-smooth voice slipped from behind the veil, calm and unimpressed.

Bakugou's brow furrowed. "Excuse me?" he growled, his tone laced with disbelief. No one had ever dared speak to him this way.

The figure inclined his head slightly, almost dismissively. "Am I correct in believing you thought it easy to come here, to take my land, to take me, by pure fear alone?" His words were calm, yet there was a lethal edge to them, a promise of something powerful and untamed.

Bakugou's gaze hardened. He knew who this was. Prince Tokoyami, a celebrated omega of the Darkwing Kingdom, had earned renown not only for his ethereal beauty and poetic prowess but also for his piercing intelligence and unbreakable spirit. Legends spoke of Tokoyami's voice, how his words could sway hearts, enchant minds, and weave spells of longing and despair in equal measure. He was known to have once quelled an entire battlefield with a mere verse, his words sinking like a balm into every warrior's soul.

But none of that mattered to Bakugou. This was not a battlefield of words or song. This was a kingdom, and Tokoyami was the one obstacle standing between him and victory.

"Why do you hide your face?" Bakugou challenged, taking a step closer. "Is it because of the one you're betrothed to? You're a prize handed to another?"

Tokoyami's eyes narrowed, though he remained as composed as ever. "Indeed, I am to be betrothed to Prince Todoroki," he replied, each syllable as poised as the edge of a blade. "My alliance is sealed, and I have no desire to break it."

Bakugou smirked, though there was a hint of something darker in his expression. "You think an arrangement like that could keep me from taking what I want?"

Tokoyami tilted his head, voice almost mocking as he replied, "What a surprise. The great King Bakugou does not take 'no' for an answer."

Bakugou's fists clenched, yet he found himself drawn to this enigmatic omega despite his anger. Tokoyami was unlike any omega he had ever encountered—an immovable wall of calm, refusing to be intimidated by his authority, his power, even his threat. It stirred something in Bakugou, something he was not accustomed to feeling: intrigue mixed with frustration, a desire to unravel the mystery behind that dark veil.

"I don't believe that an omega like you," Bakugou began, lowering his voice to a deadly whisper, "can truly love anyone who hides behind alliances and oaths."

A shadow flickered in Tokoyami's eyes, though he maintained his composed expression. "Love? Such foolishness. An omega of my kind is bound by duty, by loyalty to their people and kingdom. You think love has any place here?" he asked softly, a trace of melancholy slipping through his words. "Or perhaps, it is you, my king, who has mistaken lust for love."

Bakugou's gaze held steady as he looked at Tokoyami, the prince's slender frame wrapped in dark, opulent robes, the veil casting his face in shadows but failing to mask the quiet elegance that radiated from him. He was the embodiment of a siren, captivating yet untouchable, a mystery wrapped in darkness.

And yet, Bakugou felt compelled to break through that barrier, to see what lay beneath.

Without warning, he stepped forward, his powerful alpha presence washing over the room, commanding every eye to avert as he towered over Tokoyami's seated form.

"Remove the veil," he ordered, his voice low and dangerous. "I want to see the face of the omega who dares to challenge me."

Tokoyami was silent for a moment, his face unreadable behind the veil, before he let out a soft chuckle, a sound that sent a shiver down Bakugou's spine.

"Do you believe I would yield so easily, King Bakugou?" he replied, his voice soft and mocking. "I think not. My face is hidden for a reason, and it will remain so."

Bakugou felt his jaw tighten as his frustration reached a boiling point. He was unused to this—an omega who would not fall to his command, who met his challenge with a quiet strength that made him feel as though he were staring into the unyielding depths of a darkened mirror.

In that moment, Bakugou realized something startling: he wanted Tokoyami, not merely to conquer him, but to understand him, to see the omega for who he truly was, to break down this wall between them.

"Then I will find a way to make you yield," he said, his voice fierce, the promise of his words searing through the air.

Tokoyami's eyes met his, their depths unfathomable, a hint of something softer lingering beneath the mocking surface. "Perhaps you will try," he whispered, a challenge that sent a thrill through Bakugou's veins. "But do not mistake lust for love, King Bakugou."

And as Bakugou left that throne room, his mind was filled with thoughts of the enigmatic prince who had dared to defy him—a dark figure seated upon a throne, a veil shrouding his face, yet with a voice that could draw even the fiercest of kings to his knees.