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THE OUTSKIRTS — PROLOGUE

❝making a life out of the rubble left by your predecessors shouldn't be that hard; your parents spend every waking moment to change that. you busy yourself at the training grounds expecting a quiet life, far from the burdens of social expectation of royalty. but fate is funny in that way. in the small town, ways away from the hustle and bustle, is where you ultimately meet the people who forever alter your life. a pink haired grunt who loathes the space you occupy with aspirations of his own. the smug, older soldier who has you wrapped around his fingers; fingers that deemed him an imperial runaway. and the one better than time itself in curing your wounds. even the perfect sole heir with secrets under his crown. all with histories and secrets to divulge, who will you royally court?❞

pairings: n/a, but involves ryomen sukuna x reader, toji fushiguro x reader, shoko ieiri x reader, satoru gojo x reader

cw: royalty au, canon typical violence, light angst, depictions of emotionally unavailable parents, mentions of war and kingdom politics, age gap (gojo and shoko are 2 years older, sukuna is 3 years older, and toji is 5 years older), historical inaccuracy, petnames, time skips (takes place when reader is 11/13), probably ooc [4.5k]

notes: this is mostly just world building and establishing relationships with everyone! this is my first written work in a LONG time so please be gentle with me :) let me know of any thoughts you have ! i hope you enjoy :3 + gojo's relationship is loosely inspired by his perfect highness can't hide his over-the-top love from me!

the royal court m.list

In the early days of your youth, life was quiet.

The outskirts of the crown city were decorated with foliage, with the backdrop of the mountain range ever present, splitting the border of the kingdom to an unknown empire beyond. Large and looming trees filled every corner of open space, with rocks and shrubbery nestled between the gaps. The canopy granting respite in the beating heat of the summers spent in the sun, or refuge, breaking apart the harsh winds and snow come the winter.

In the summers, you were chasing insects that fluttered about to and fro the gentle stream that separated the residences to the marketplace. A big smile plastered to your round face as you'd balance atop tree roots and rocks.

The beauty and freedom of living there would slowly fall from grace. The comfort of the flowing water, now mocking at the sound of silence that followed you. The only creatures that seemed comfortable approaching you were the bugs that infested the damp heat of the summer, or the howls of the canines that crept in through your window in the dim, a one-sided conversation.

You never could understand why your family name would garner such strange looks from the townsfolk. Causing shifts in demeanour, where adults who were previously aloof and happy to see such a joyous child, would then keep you at arms length, pushing polite, but tight smiles. The kids you'd come up to and offer to play would happily go along, until you'd introduce yourself. Nervous excuses and jittery bodies running off to play somewhere else. You'd watch as they'd skip away, giggling off the interaction they'd just had.

You couldn't fault them too much for listening to their family. But it nevertheless hurt. Participating in the social gatherings were insufferable anyways, you'd slink away, claiming a tired mind from your endless studies, just to end up on the training grounds.

It was comforting to know that in the hustle and bustle, there would still be people there that would protect you. Who would become familiar at your presence; the shy girl who would appear one way or another, even if your nose would wrinkle at the smell hanging in the air after a hot day.

The town you lived in was sparsely populated, primarily by the families of the soldiers who lived in the one of the kingdom's training grounds nearby. Clangs of metal and grunts as the young trained until their bodies ached to feel the beating of a battle.

On the days you weren't preoccupied in the town library engrossed in a novel, or frolicking in the fields, you were at the training grounds. The soldiers there didn't seem to keep you at a distance in which had grown accustomed to. Those in-training seemed to care even less, so focused on climbing the ranks. The soldiers you'd meet, and become familiar, with would eventually leave due to the rotation of the ranks. With a never ending cycle of incoming soldiers offering either praises or silence to your name.

It was when you were eleven had you gotten an inkling.

The new soldiers had just gotten settled into the nearby encampments. You'd overheard chatter as you walked around, curious to see the new faces. Your ears perk at the mention of your family name. They had said someone had been a knight, the sworn shield of the a monarch. With the name she had built, sullied by her husband, a tactical strategist who had fled the kingdom, leaving her pregnant and alone. Abandoning those after to pick up the haphazard pieces left behind. At this point, it was so far past that the name truly only associated with the desperate work by your parents who ached for more.

You never got to spend much time with your parents. Always focused on trying not only to survive but get more from this life. And in the hours you did get to spend with your parents, they had never spoken a word about your ancestors. It was always talk about the present, and even more on the future. It didn't make sense, the reactions a name could bring. Especially one that lost relevance.

It made sense that your parents had established their names with the training ground again. Rebuilding the old nickname associated with it from past soldiers, "the Northern Fortress," for reasons unbeknownst to you. Sure you were the northern most town in the kingdom, but fortress? The training grounds didn't even have any walls, much less stone.

Before you made your way to the grounds, your parents stopped you, mentioning that the soldier rotation has shifted. For what reason, you could not say. Something along the lines of invasion and preparation. Yet, worry was replaced with excitement, enthused by the hope that these new faces wouldn't push you away too.

In your musing, your body had collided with another.

Dazed at the contact, your eyes peer towards a sneering face, topped with a blush coloured head of hair.

"Watch it princess," he hissed out.

He couldn't possibly have been much older than you. In fact, you were taller than him. Your head cocked to the side in confusion. Princess? If you were, you doubted you'd get such a reaction such as his. And, you've never met him before, so what had earned you such a response?

Your brows cinch and your lips jut out slightly, "Princess?" He scoffs and shoves past you, slightly cradling an arm. Your head follows him as he stomps towards med bay, disappearing behind the white fabric.

A snicker erupts from behind you, "Don't mind the oaf." He had a mess of obsidian hair, swept all over the place. His lips curled up, "He's just mad I beat him in sparring again." He beckons you to follow, and you do.

He held the curtain to the white tent open for you, displaying the pink-haired bully boy sat upon the edge of a cot, pouting as his arm is tended to by the doctor.

Your eyes drift to the lingering body who watches from the side. The young girls eyes look over you and look away, shifting her head to display a mole under her eye, short brown eye swaying with the movement.

"Thank you Dr. Ieiri," the boy mumbled, stretching his arm out to test the wraps.

From then on, you made a constant effort to avoid them. Too afraid to see the mean and short boy, Ryomen Sukuna you learned from Shoko. Who was never straying far from Toji Fushiguro. But like other soldiers, they had come and gone, just like all those before them. Shoko and her family had remained, saying that there would now have to be a stationed medic there constantly with the larger groups that would be sent over. Impending invasion prep, as you were told.

You had grown fond of the training grounds, always within eyesight. But now with someone your age who tolerates your presence? You were almost always at the training grounds.

You would return the weapons strewn about the dirt back onto the racks. Run small errands for the kitchen, fetching goods and equipment, dragging barrels of goods that dwarfed your body. You persevered, nonetheless, chest puffing out in pride, trying to hide the gasps of air your lungs were starved of. Heart rapidly beating because you had been acknowledged for something other than your name, your skill, your determination. You were bustling about the grounds, happy you found somewhere that wanted you.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

The time had passed, and so had the faces you had once gotten used to. Not yet learning to not get too attached.

Management had gotten used to your presence, and now hope you'd show up, for they always had work to be done, and you never shied away. You parents scolded you, saying you were better off socializing with the townsfolk. Those same words once filled with disappointment and frustration were only charged with habit. Sometimes they'll even make you drop something off to the med bay, as if you wouldn't have ended up there anyways.

You had the misfortune to be subjected to the jeering and taunts from the boastful Ryomen Sukuna, again. Chiding, yet dismissive, he was still the same. Somehow meaner and sharper in the time he was gone. At every appearance he'd claim you were spoiled. That having your name associated with such an honourable reputation is a stain on those who worked before you, heaving words of distaste and poison from his tongue.

What gave him the gall to maintain such an attitude baffles you, he happened only to be three years your senior, as Shoko said. And yet he treated you as if you were a gnat buzzing in his ear incessantly. You avoid him as much as possible for the time he's there, again. Hoping you would be kept at a distance. With such an angry and boastful attitude, you flinch every time you hear his voice for it always meant trouble and a self-righteous rant directed at you.

However, it was hard to deny Sukuna's claims when you agreed with them to some extent. He had trained and trained, excruciatingly so, that even you would occasionally chirp out remarks for him to take a break. Only for him to grunt out a response saying that you'd never get it, as he hacks away at a straw dummy. You scowl back at him, to which he pays you no mind. Tonguing your check, scolding yourself to why you even bother.

You worry anyways, begrudgingly so, as in few years time, he would try to claim the power of the northern region, a small part of which you call home. It was no small order to do so, having to duel the duke. The only region left in the kingdom that hadn't outlawed such a rule.

During a sparring session is when you learned of his plans. And of course it tumbled down-hill because of Toji. He threw Sukuna a sly comment, that he wasn't ready for such responsibility when he could barely beat a runaway. Sukuna had flared in response, jabbing and slicing, but uttered not a single word.

It was a loaded comment Toji knew better than to say, with the words leaving his mouth for the sole purpose to get a rise out of him.

It was the first and only time Sukuna did not boast. It was also the first and only time Sukuna had lost a sparring match to Toji at the time spent there at the training grounds, a stark difference to the first time they were there.

When you first met them, Toji was sixteen and freshly run away from his family's empire, constantly on guard, where Sukuna was fourteen and reckless. Now, Sukuna was sixteen, carving a name out for himself, only to trail behind the recently knighted Sir Toji Fushiguro, and "the Strongest," whoever deemed themselves worthy of such a preposterous and narcissistic title.

Your eyes met with Shoko, as you each ready yourselves for the snappy conversations that await you two as the burly men storm away from the other. Except, for the fact that you're helplessly watching as she goes to help Toji.

You had always favoured Toji Fushiguro, and Shoko knew that. Albeit five years your senior, he had provided something familiar. He hadn't always been known as a Fushiguro he divulged, chuckling at your wide eyes and eager face. A Zen'in, far from the empire he should be in. From that moment on, Toji Fushiguro had found a spot in your heart. He was big, brooding, handsome, a rascal you'd hear him described as. But the title you bestowed upon him, long before he became knighted, was your first crush. Never mind the hair ruffling and embarrassing nickname he bestowed unto you. Kid? He's barely an adult himself! Especially the way he puts extra work onto you. And it's not like you don't do it anyways. The lazy, no good, broad-chested knight in shining armour.

You've found yourself falling at the whims at others more often nowadays. Not to say you can be walked all over, absolutely no. The years of semi-social isolation had prepared you for the harsh realities of the personalities people tried to hide, especially when they're not trying to hide it in front of someone they deem has fallen further from the public graces than they have.

Certain people just knew how to get to you, like Toji. With a glint in his eye as you'd put away his equipment for him without a fight. You'd always groan at your actions afterwards, groaning to Shoko how obvious you'd been, that you can't help it! She claimed you had hearts in your eyes as he called you over, with them never disappearing even though you were called over only to put things away. You tackled her to the ground and made her swear to never speak about it again. And true to her word, she never vocally said anything, but if the smirks and glances said anything, the whole town knew of your little crush.

You weren't immune to Shoko's queries for help. If anything, you had half a mind to even consider denying her. From her numerous complaints of being over-worked, you caved to her pleas for help. How could you not when dark circles clung to her eyes? That even into adulthood, regardless of a lightened workload, would never disappear.

You cursed at yourself internally as you bandage the hot-headed idiot in front of you. You wouldn't be in this position if it weren't for her. The warmth of her tight hug she offered and the light kiss to your cheek as she sighed thanks was payment enough.

You had spilled more alcohol on the cut than intended, eliciting a hiss and a string of curses hurtled towards you. You mumble out a sorry and tighten your grip on Sukuna's shoulder, trying your hardest to focus. Learning how to bandage minor wounds wasn't all too hard anyways. Even in the short time the two idiots had graced your life for the second time, you couldn't even recall the countless times you've had to fix up some of the soldiers.

Once the plaster was secure, you patted it gently to motion you finished. He rolls his shoulder and brings his gaze to you, stiffly nodding and turning away from you.

You're storing the items back into the wooden crate, balancing it on your hips. "You should really be more careful," you call out. Biting your lip before you can make a needless remark on his first loss to Toji. He freezes in his tracks and slowly turns to face you.

The sound dirt crunching under his feet as he approaches, "I don't have that luxury." His crimson eyes bore into you. Your eyes flit from his, nervous from how close he is, feeling the heat radiating off his chest. His eyes narrow in response, and takes a step back.

"Not when the Northern Duel can kill me." Your eyes fly to his in alarm, scanning for any hint of a joke. But knowing Sukuna, if it was one, it was a cruel one played on himself. Your mouth is agape, waiting to hear anymore information he was willing to share, but nothing more is spoken.

He walks away, picking up a stray piece of armour that had failed to defend him from Toji's strike. He looks of his shoulder and pauses for a second. "Beat it princess," he tosses the metal piece in the air, where you're left scrambling to get it.

Unsure if you should drop the medical crate or try to catch it with one hand, your fate is decided for you as the piece of armour isn't moving towards you anymore. You pull your attention away from Sukuna and look at the arm jutting out from behind you, clutching the steel.

The arm is littered with scars, with thick fingers clutching metal. Large biceps as big as your head cause your neck to warm. Your face covered with a bashful smile in thanks, with Toji already boasting a smirk as he drops his hand to his side.

Sukuna scoffs at your reaction, "Don't you have somewhere better to be?" he grunts out, storming off towards the barracks.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

In the following months, the duke-in-training and knight were long gone, but so were the other soldiers. The ache of their presence etching a place in your heart where you deem them friends, much to your chagrin.

But this time it was different. A quiet winter, one without the screeches and clangs of metal in the background. Just the eerie noises of the night amongst the howling wind that threatens to collapse your once prestigious house.

Your parents had been toiling away, working to regain the status your family name once held. Trying to earn favour and time to rebuild what your precursors damaged. You became better at hiding your hurt when they changed their tune upon hearing your name. But the seemingly endless work your parents had put into it paid off; your family had been inducted to the royal court.

You weren't really sure what that actually entailed. It wasn't anything you thought you would ultimately experience. Your memory was sparse on the image of the royal family, with only glimpses of the prince. Before he was the crown prince, he was just a name scrawled in ink that had caused your house to flutter in nerves. A crisp envelope had been delivered to your doorstep that morning.

For once, you weren't on the training grounds. The freezing air that sent aches through your bones not permitting for such a wander. Amidst the vast room, filled with light spilling through the curtains, you lay on your plush bed. Dwarfed between feather down quilts embroidered with various animals and adorned with a few gems that dug into your skin.

Head cradled between your hands, immersed in every word on the pages of the book in front of you. The words spill into your head like the snow outside. Glinting in the sunlight, blinding you like opals catching the light produced by the hearth. Like the gems embedded in the jewellery decorating the skin of your mother. Perhaps one day, at least you hope, she'll give to you.

You imagine what it would be like to be the protagonist in the story told before you. One that isn't followed by a notorious reputation, that once upon a time was favoured in the public eye.

When you're older, will your life be occupied with waiting candidates? What would you do if your very own chivalrous and heroic knight arrived when a saviour was needed most? Your thirteen year old imagination going wild, envisioning a big and buff knight, clad in gleaming armour. A silhouette taking shape, identical to the recently knighted Sir Toji Fushiguro. You blush and yelp to your childish thoughts, you had better things to dwell on than who's arms would cradle you in your time of need...

Sighing, you let yourself swoon at the thoughts. How much could a little indulgence hurt anyways? Especially when the star of your play treats you like a younger sibling.

Gripping the novel you snap the book closed, falling back onto the bed. Your gown poofing! out from behind you. Your fingers trace the spine of the book. Snickering at the thought of your black-haired knight stepping on the chest of Ryomen Sukuna.

Your thoughts flow farther away, towards a prince charming. The image of a knight conquering snarky imbeciles dissipates, replaced by bits and pieces about the crown prince. You barely even know of the kingdom's prince, letting your mind fill in the blanks to your liking.

He is perfect! He doesn't speak ill to anyone, especially you. He is kind hearted, a charming laugh with a way with words, but with eyes for you. He is strong, the backbone of the kingdom. He isn't with you because of your name, scratch that, he doesn't care about the implications your name holds, and he does it all out of his love for you. He is a handsome prince, a poised man, but your friend.

All traits come circling back to you.

You are young. A yearner at heart. Desperate to be accepted in a world hesitant to do so. You may be all those things, but you are not naive.

You shelve the book back into its place, you've pushed your responsibilities, not wanting a scolding in your love-sick daze. You close the wooden door and pad your way to the stairs. The sight your eyes land upon was curious enough. Your father and mother were huddled together, fervoured whispers spilling out of their mouths.

You grip the railing, trying to be silent in hopes of hearing the source of their conversation. The wood plank creaks under your weight, a betrayal to your sneaky intent. They call out to you in contained enthusiasm. And in your mother's hand is a pristine white envelope sealed with bright blue wax. A colour you could only describe as ethereal, a blue you would only witness if you were worthy enough.

You cared less and less about the political ongoings of the kingdom, especially when it seemed it fed off of your family's demise, but your heart dropped. It was from the royal family.

And from the words you can pick out from the slur of words from your parents, you are expected to make an appearance, because now you are a noble.

The following days were a change you were still debating if you liked or not. You were leaning towards discomfort and distaste, but you could never admit that. It was a sign of change your father claimed. The tides had turned in your favour, said your mother. That objectively meaningless paper signalled the beginning of visits to the tailor and shops. Whisked away, all in preparation for the ball.

After a few hours of travel in a stuffy carriage, you finally arrive at the royal estate. The plot of land rivalling the size of your entire town!

You are a bundle of nerves and excitement, rocking on your heels to manage. The crown city was already a sight to marvel at, of course the royal estate would be even more so.

You enter the ballroom, shocked by the resplendence. Hanging from the ceiling is an intricate chandelier, reflecting rainbows around the expanse of the room. Vaulted ceilings reflecting the voices that fill the space. You peer around, taking in your surroundings, in awe of the spectacle. In your decade of life, you've never been in such a palace so large and grandiose. You notice the lack of blue that seems to surround the Gojo name, you have yet to see anything resembling the colour that was on the wax seal your parents seemed to fret over.

A wall to your right is decorated in portraits of the Gojo lineage, frames rimmed in wood and gold embossing. White roses spew out of vases as tall as you. Your hands neatly placed in front of you, as you move forward to where the people crowd. Though the receiving area is enormous, the people flock to the centre, to where the crown prince greets his guests.

You look over your shoulder, where nobody else seems to be, which only worsens your parents' nerves. Enamoured by the palace, you don't notice as the crowd decreases before you. Your parents rush before you to honour who you assume to be the king and queen—if the crown were any indication—with polite praises and greetings. You startle at the booming voice of the king, shifting from foot to foot. You look down at your dress, where your fingers are interlaced in front of you as you await to be addressed. To your surprise, it doesn't come from before you, but to your side.

"Welcome," your eyes dart to the speaker. "It is an honour to make your acquaintance."

It was the famed crown prince. The sole heir, with a hand out to you.

The boy wears a white suit, with golden decals running around the edges. Settled on the base of his neck were faded scars, brushing the tips of his hair. His hair a frosty white, like that of snow in the northern mountains that you're accustomed. His other hand is crossed over his chest, where his other still waits for yours. A radiant and dimpled smile aimed to you. But what you're most taken aback by are his brilliant cerulean eyes.

You gaze in awe at the prince in front of you. At a loss for words. Your father clears his throat.

You flush and fumble forwards, stuttering with wide eyes. "It is my honour, your majesty," you clumsily curtsy. You look up towards your parents, your brows cinching together in earnest as you try to recall what they told you to say.

"Thank you for the invitation, your royal highnesses," you direct your words to the current monarchs. "I hope my family can provide useful in your royal court, where future encounters are fruitful and collaborative endeavours bountiful," you recite, smiling at yourself. You receive polite nods and a small chuckle, but their gaze doesn't linger. You look to your parents whose eyes raise in alarm. You follow their line of sight, and finally clue in.

You grab the prince's hand, unsure of what to say at this moment. Your mind was in chaos. From the aura of splendour that hangs around the Gojo's to the striking blue eyes of the prince.

"I hope we can be good friends!" You blurt, much to your dismay. You close your eyes, wrenching your hand from his to cover your mouth, embarrassed by the lack of control you had over your thoughts. Your bold claim earning exasperated sounds from your parents, subjected to watching their child potentially repel any meaningful connection to the royal family.

But a sweet noise comes from the prince's pink lips. Your eyes peel open, to see him laughing. He leans forward and offers a hand out to you. Your eyes sparkle, tinged with a hopeful gleam, awaiting his response as you hesitantly take his hand once again.

"It would be an honour," he says, his grip slightly tightening around your hand. Receiving a wide smile from you, he tugs gently on your hand and guides you around the estate, showing you to the dining hall and the gardens. Your first real introduction to the royalty and what comes with when you run the kingdom.

You could only wonder what was in store for you as your family was now in charge of the royal guard.

now who do you pursue...?

⋆ the cold heart of the north who has it out for you?

⋆ the knighted, yet shady, burlier, and older imperial runaway?

⋆ the perfect crown prince with secrets of his own?

⋆ the court physician, who knows you best?

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