Across the Stars (Shoto Todoroki x Reader)

Origin Files: Rue

Behind the hearth of a wintry home, a fire crackled. 
It provided persistent warmth to the residents of the house, who just as persistently shielded their hearts from it. The house gave shelter to its resident child, but that was just about it. She wondered often if the lashings of the freezing winter air would sting more than her grandmother and her father's relentless words. 

She would have to bear through this storm, though. For she had nowhere else to go and no one else she was blood-bound to. 
She sat on the faded maroon carpet, so dusty that the design beneath had been rendered invisible. On her tattered dress lay a spool of thread that she had unraveled and entangled herself in, resultant of a vain attempt at fixing her clothes when her grandmother had refused to do it for her. The said woman, however, was sitting on her newly polished rocking chair, effortlessly knitting herself a scarf. 

She looked down at the girl by her feet, who had wasted a good amount of thread. She clicked her tongue discouragingly, "Tch, what a child you are. You cannot even sew your own dress that you have so recklessly torn and you expect your father and I to coddle you in our arms."

"But, grandma," the child implored, "this frock has been so tight, it hasn't been allowing me to breathe. I need a new one anyway."

The crone held bitter disdain in her eyes, the girl predicted a reprimand but her grandmother shook her head, as if to change her mind about something. 
"Let me tell you a story, dear." she said, viciously, "Your story."
The girl quickly sat criss-crossed, eager to hear the story. The old hag took a deep breath, framing her sentences in a split second. 

"There was once a young boy of a noble clan. He had the habit of waking up early, sorting through his duties and taking a stroll through the mansion's gardens. Once, during his walk, he noticed a beautiful girl in the garden, kneeling by the roses and picking only the ones that had fully bloomed. She had ebony black hair, slightly colored lips and wore a pink tsumugi, reminiscent of the one his mother owned. He walked up to the maiden and asked her if she was picking these flowers for someone she fancied. Caught off guard by such a question asked by a nobleman, she immediately took a step back and bowed. She replied that she was only a new servant for his family, and was picking flowers to put in vases. He glanced down at her attire and shot her an enquiring look. The maiden, flustered, quickly explained that it was a gift from her father for her birthday. Satisfied, the boy gently pulled her basket away from her and held it in place under his arm, extending another to invite the young lady to a walk. She refused at first, saying a servant should not be seen so casually walking by her master's side. However, she soon gave in to the boy's pleas. 

It had been a pleasant walk for both of them. They had gotten to know each other, and soon, over time, they fell in love. Forbidden, as it was. Each night, after the nobleman had fulfilled his duties, he gave in to temptation and left his mansion to meet his lover under only the watchful gaze of the moon, accompanied by her stars. The poor mother's son had worn his heart on his sleeve for a peasant's daughter. Although the mother watched her son slink away into the shadows every night to meet his secret lover, she satiated herself by saying, "Love remains unbound through all of time". One day, the dam finally broke. She could not stay still until her son had finally achieved happiness by marrying this girl that he liked. She did not care for public opinion or political abhor. So, she confronted her son and appealed to his father to bless the marriage. 

The union was a happy one for a long time. Peace and happiness, are after all, ever-fleeting. A farmer can be happy for rain one night, and wake up to his crop flooded the next morning. A fine afternoon, the nobleman's beloved had gone out to run errands, insisting that she did not require an assistant by her side. She had set off on her extravagant ride, but only the ride returned. The nobleman was worried. He scoured the entire nation for traces of his wife. He used all his connections, and got but one message. She had abandoned him. Heartbroken and angry, his wrath reflected in his duties. He sent cruel messages, commissioned cruel people and spoke cruel words. His heart had been stolen and broken, and now he was left an empty shell of the person he used to be. Soon, the clan fell to destruction in his hands. 

A year later, when the gold coins of the family lost their lustre, and the mansion had shrunken into a measly little house, its doorbell rang through its hollow rooms. The man that once was the most elegant and respected in all of his country, had no one to open the door and bring  in the visitor for him. He gripped the knob himself, and twisted it, revealing a bundle of clothes in a woven basket, and a lone paper note, slightly damp from the snow. He carefully took the basket in, and placed it on the low table by the fire. He unfolded the note and read: 

Akio,
My beloved,

I do not have much time left. I am sorry for this, and I am sorry for what I have done to you. Please know that it was not my intention to leave you heartbroken. Everything that has happened, it is all because of me. I cannot linger, but please know that I loved you, and I still do. I swear by everything I have left, my heart has never let me forget you. For your own peace, it is better to leave the past shrouded in mystery. You will never know my reasons for not returning, but so be it. I have been harsh to you, my love. I have caused you strife and suffering too great for any man's heart to bear, but please let me just give you one last gift before I take my leave for the afterlife. This is my precious daughter. She may not have your own blood, but she is a piece of my own being. You might not take to her kindly after all her mother has done to you, but please be kind to her. Please raise her with the heart of the same man who carried my basket of flowers on the day we first met. The same basket that carries her in it. I am sorry I can never pay you back for your love and kindness. I leave her name up to you.
I'm sorry.
I love you. 

She did not even sign her name at the end of her letter. The man, through his tears, took the baby in his arms and silently sobbed into its blankets. His salty tears brought forth bitter words."

The child looked at her grandmother in awe, who had just finished narrating her tale. She took a sip of water from the cup next to her and asked her grandchild one thing, 
"Do you know what your name means, Rue?" 

The child piped up, her childish mind unable to think dark thoughts, "Companion!", she exclaimed. 

Her grandmother jeeringly repeated the child's innocent words. "You were born of a faithless woman, remember that. Your name means regret and heartbreak. It will never mean anything better." 

Those were the last words she ever said to her grandchild. 

Those words remained seared into her mind.

(A/N: IM ALIVE :D)