The first time Todoroki Shoto is assigned to you, it isn’t announced as a celebration itself, but almost every servant on the castle, no matter the rank, must be present.
You are seated on your throne —bored, restless, already thinking of a dozen places you’d rather be— when the doors open.
A knight steps inside.
Not just any knight.
His armor is simpler than most, unadorned and practical. His cape is folded neatly at his shoulder, his sword worn with familiarity rather than pride.
But it’s the way he walks that draws your attention.
Controlled. Purposeful. Like he has never once moved without knowing exactly why.
He looks professional, serious... for you? Boring.
He stops before you and kneels in one knee, head bowed, fist to chest.
“My name is Todoroki Shoto,” he says, voice calm and even. “By command of the Crown, I have been assigned as your personal knight.”
The title hangs in the air.
Personal.—Yes, you were a bit disobedient (well... maybe more than a bit) but have your parents really gone this far to get you a knight of your own?
“From this day forward, your safety will be my sole priority. I will guard your life with my own. I will follow any command you give… so long as it does not threaten your well-being.”
It almost sounds like a vow. You expect him to look up, he doesn’t.
When you give him permission to rise, he does so smoothly—but even then, his eyes linger just to the side of you, never quite meeting your gaze.
You notice that immediately: How careful he is not to look.
How tense he is standing this close to royalty.
How his hand never strays far from the hilt of his sword… even now.
Court is dismissed shortly after.
And suddenly —
you are alone with the knight assigned to your life. With a polite bow and without another word, you stand up and walk away towards your dorm, he follows you silently as you walk the halls.
Every turn you take, he mirrors. Every pause, he stops.
You test it.
Slow your step, he slows.
Turn abruptly, he turns.
Finally, you stop in the middle of the corridor and face him.
“Do you ever stop staring?”
For the first time since you met him—he flinches.
Not dramatically.
Just… enough that you notice.
“I apologize if I’ve offended you, Your Highness.” he replies. “I was trained to remain alert at all times.”
You tilt your head.
“Funny. You haven’t looked at me once.”
His jaw tightens. Slowly, he lifts his eyes.
And when they finally meet yours... Something inside your chest flips over.
One is steel-gray. The other, a pale, burning blue. The kind of eyes that have seen things. The kind that were never supposed to soften.
“I am not permitted to linger on royalty." he says quietly.
That night, you escape.
Of course you do.
The palace is too quiet. Too controlled. Too full of eyes.
Barefoot and wrapped in a cloak you stole off a chair, you slip through familiar hallways the guards never notice you using.
You pass through hidden doors. Slide through servants’ passages with ease, like the tangled path is already carved in your memory.
And finally —you reach the outer corridor.
Freedom.
Or it would have been.... If he hadn’t been standing there already.
Leaning against the stone wall. Watching you.
Waiting.
Torchlight glows along his hair and armor. His silhouette cuts through the darkness like a blade.
“You are not supposed to leave the castle after dark." he says.
Not angry. Not raised. Just… final.
Ugh.
You fold your arms. “And you’re not supposed to spy on royalty.”
“I am assigned to you.” he replies. “That includes your recklessness.”
There’s something different in his voice.
Lower. Tighter.
Like he’s holding something back. You step closer.
“What if I order you not to follow me?”
His eyes flicker.
There it is.
The first crack in the armor.
“Then,” he says carefully, “I would disobey you.”
That should surprise you.
But it doesn’t.
“So the perfect knight can rebel, but I can not?"
His fingers curl slightly at his side.
“Only in matters that would cost you your life, I am allowed.” he admits.