𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝑭𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆-Tododeku (FantasyAU)

ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ

Yuhhh get into itt
I published this whilst waiting to board my flight cuz vibes!
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Runaway
┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

What makes a home?
..

When he thought of home, Shoto somehow always found himself going on some tangent in hope of piecing the scattered parts together to form such an image.

More realistically, a home would technically be the place he was both born in and has been raised in since forever. Meant to be the sole place he grew up in, where he was lectured and raised through the years. However, in the tales he's heard and read, surely a home demonstrates a more emotional and monumental bond than the mere physical connection. A bond that catered to both fond and bitter memories alike, a sanctuary for him to find comfort in.

Where one would feel sheltered and consolidated with their family or loved ones than just from the chilly airs of winter, but not all families had Enji Todoroki as a father. After all, one can blame him for all the tribulations the family endured, especially for the unsettling way their members grew shorter within time.

Surely, he should be grateful for his father, after all, he's the reason why they are allowed to live a life free from any economic or financial concerns. In addition, he did have some fond memories he clung to rather desperately, such as the palace gardens free from outside interference. Though, he'd still like to think he should be grateful for his ancestors who first succeeded the throne instead, and creating a lineage that would result in him.

If a home was designed to be such a place of comfort, then Shoto must've never had one, at least not now that is, if the scar proved it. There was no such bond within his family after the many tragedies, but merely a bunch of people suffering in solitude whilst together under the same roof.

It was painfully obvious during their many poor attempts at a 'family dinner', which would always result in bickering and sharp remarks that would cause even the servants wanting to just storm out of the room. At some times it would be tiresome, while others he'd admit to being the one instigating such interactions.

He cringed at simply recalling it, his brother's constant mockery and comments on whatever his father would do as much as breathe, and his sister trying desperately to keep the peace until they at least finish their dishes.

The only comfort Shoto found was in his current spot within the library's many shelves, dissembling himself from any onlookers or those who intend to disturb him, a pocket of space only he inhabited. He never took a fancy to books or knowledge-seeking, but when you wish to avoid the many lectures of your strict father, what better way to do it than say you're 'studying'?

Shoto was seated on an old wooden desk, clearly evident it's been least checked upon due to the old chips of paint which have peeled along the edges. Yet, Shoto didn't mind for it was still quite suitable excluding the occasional creaking. It was seated upon another rather ancient velvety rug, engravings from some carpenter already long gone by now.

A small candle sat at the corner of the table, out of the way of the many scatted books either half-read or even as much as opened. The peculiar smell of the freshly opened pages causing a slight scrunch to the prince's nose as his mismatched eyes wanders away from the books towards the shadowy halls of the library.