“A-alright, just…. calm down, Shoto,” he whispered to himself. Shoto Todoroki was a pretty nervous guy deep down. He was nervous he’d hurt someone, nervous he’d get hurt, nervous things might go wrong—anything there was to worry about, he could and would. His mask of impartiality was good, but not good enough to hide his nerves about his impending marriage. There were several worrying things about this.
The most pressing issue: he’d never met his betrothed. How was he supposed to marry a man he’d never met? What if this person was horrible? What if he was like Shoto’s father? What if he was crazy, or abusive, or down-right boring? How would Shoto survive the rest of his life with someone awful? His parents wouldn’t help; his father might delight in his misery, his mother powerless to do anything.
His hands shook as he smoothed his clothes, much less formal than he was supposed to have worn. That was one favor his mother had managed to do him. His betrothed, some prince he’d never met from some foreign land he’d never been to, was behind this door.
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