Katsuki Bakugou||Fantasy AU

The world had tried to cage him since the day he was born.

His fate had been written before he ever took his first breath—Prince Katsuki of the Ashen Throne, firstborn son of the Drakonis bloodline, heir to a kingdom built on the backs of warriors and the wings of dragons. From the moment he could walk, he was expected to be a ruler, a conqueror, a king.

The Ashen Throne was more than just a kingdom. It was a legacy—ancient, unyielding, and carved from fire. The blood of dragonkind ran through its history like molten gold, its people warriors, its rulers legends. The beasts were not just weapons of war; they were sacred, woven into the very fabric of the kingdom’s rule. For centuries, kings and queens of his line had sat upon that obsidian throne with dragons at their feet, crowns heavy with the weight of a history that demanded greatness.

And he was meant to be next.

They trained him to lead, to fight, to command. He was sharpened like a blade, forged in discipline and expectation, every moment of his life dictated by duty. He grew strong. Ruthless. Unyielding. The perfect successor.

But they failed to tame him.

Katsuki had never been the kind of man to kneel. Not to his father. Not to the council. Not to the gods themselves. They wanted a king who would uphold their traditions, who would take his place at the head of their empire and continue the rule of fire and steel. But what they wanted never mattered to him. He did not exist to carry the weight of dead men’s crowns.

And when they tried to shackle him with an arranged marriage—tried to bind him to a throne he never wanted—he made his choice.

He ran.

He left behind the gilded cage of the palace, the suffocating walls of duty, the weight of expectation that had tried to break him since birth. He became a fugitive, a traitor, a hunted man.

The kingdoms wanted him now. Some for power, some for vengeance. Some sought to drag him back in chains, to force him onto the throne he rejected. Others wanted to use him, to twist his defiance into a weapon for their own gain.

Let them try.

He was not some pawn to be moved across their board. He was not some relic of the past, bound to a fate he never chose. He was Katsuki Bakugou of the Ashen Throne, the runaway prince, the barbarian they whispered about in war rooms and council halls.

And he would kneel before no one.

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The world around him burned.

Not from fire, but from the fury of his own heart. His breath came fast, his pulse a thunderous drum in his ears as he crashed through the dense undergrowth. The setting sun bled into the sky behind him, casting long shadows that made the forest feel alive, as if the trees themselves were watching. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, but it didn't matter. The only thing he could smell was the sweat on his skin and the sharp tang of his own desperation.

The hounds were getting closer.

He could hear them—their snarls, their nails scraping against the dirt, the heavy panting as they tore through the forest after him. The mercenaries, too. Footsteps. Voices. The unmistakable sound of human pursuit. The hunt.

They’d never stop.

Katsuki’s boots slammed against the forest floor, his legs burning with the effort. His body was a weapon, trained for this very moment, but even his strength had its limits. He couldn’t outrun them forever. They were relentless, driven by a single purpose: to capture him, to drag him back to the Ashen Throne. They would kill anyone who stood in their way—he’d seen them do it. He gritted his teeth, refusing to slow. The shadows grew longer. The forest grew thicker, darker, as the sun dipped below the horizon. A cool wind began to stir, and the trees creaked as if they, too, were whispering their warnings. The hunt was closing in. He could hear the cries of the mercenaries now, shouting orders, pushing their hounds harder.

Fucking hell.

Why did it have to be now? He cursed under his breath, eyes scanning the trees. There had to be a way out of this. A way to shake them off. But the forest was dense, and they knew it better than he did. He wasn’t exactly in familiar territory. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword, the familiar weight a comfort, but he didn’t draw it yet. Not yet. He wasn’t fighting them in open combat—no, he needed to outsmart them, not just overpower them.

Another growl. Closer now.

A sudden rustle to his left. Katsuki’s heart skipped a beat, his instincts flaring to life. He spun, drawing his sword in a fluid motion—his eyes narrowing. But it was just a rabbit, its panicked flight sending a wave of tension through the trees. He snarled in frustration, barely pausing to breathe before pushing forward again, faster this time. He would not go back. Never- he refused too.

His body screamed at him to stop, to rest, to give in—but he had never been one to listen. He forced himself forward, leaping over roots, ducking beneath low-hanging branches. Every breath felt like fire in his lungs. His boots barely made a sound against the dirt; years of running, years of fighting, had trained him well. But they had numbers, and numbers meant patience. They weren’t rushing. They were closing in.

Something whistled past his ear—an arrow.

He snarled, twisting mid-step just as another one flew. The damn thing nicked his arm, a sharp sting cutting through the adrenaline. He bit down on the pain, but it slowed him, just for a second.

A second was all they needed.

Shouts rang out behind him, barking orders, changing direction. They thought they had him. Thought they had cornered him.

Not yet, bastards.

Katsuki veered sharply to the right, heading for the denser part of the forest. The trees thickened, the terrain sloped, but he barely registered it. He moved on instinct, pushing himself harder, ignoring the ache in his legs. His vision blurred at the edges, sweat dripping into his eyes. He could hear them splitting up, trying to head him off.

Then—

A sound. Too close.

A single breath, a shift of weight on the ground.

Katsuki reacted instantly, muscles coiling, ready to strike. He turned sharply, fists clenched—only to see a figure standing a few feet ahead.

They weren’t a hunter. Not dressed like that. Their clothes were dusty, worn from travel, nothing like the polished armor of the mercenaries behind him. They stood frozen, eyes wide, caught off guard just as much as he was.

Shit.

A voice cut through the trees.

“There! Over there!”

The moment shattered.

Katsuki turned, ready to bolt again—but the mercenaries weren’t looking at him anymore. They were looking at them.

It took him half a second to understand. To see the way the nearest hunter raised his crossbow toward the stranger, assuming—wrongly—that they were together.

Their mistake.

Katsuki didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate.

He lunged.

The arrow meant for the stranger barely left the bow before he was on them, slamming his shoulder into the nearest mercenary. A sharp grunt, a curse—someone staggered, another reached for their weapon. “Move!”

Katsuki barked, grabbing the stranger’s arm. He didn’t know them. Didn’t care. All that mattered was that the hunters were after them now too.

And he sure as hell wasn’t gonna stick around to see how that ended.

With no other choice, they ran.