Shoto Todoroki Oneshots

Filthy Pirates!!

TRIGGER WARNING: violence

THEMES: Fantasy AU, Pirates of the Caribbean crossover

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Shoto's footsteps barely made a sound, no echoing off the towering castle walls, steps muffled by the rich carpets beneath him. It was nearing midnight, the castle's servants retiring for the night, large chandeliers doused and small wicker candles took their place. The moon's rays rested upon the surrounding towns, the streets empty with a blanket of fog washing in from the sea. The sky was impossible to see, only glimpses of stars he was able to catch from the top floor of the castle.

Shoto was restless, unable to fall into his lush covers and sleep, even his evening tea left something to be desired. His father was away on business, leaving the city's rulings to the Lords and his advisers. Whilst Shoto would wait eagerly each day for the announcement of his father's next voyage, it had been too long since he received word of his whereabouts. Maybe the savages in Tortuga finally seized The Endeavour.

His breath formed small clouds in the air, the floor cold and drafty from the open windows. Walking closer to one, he let his gaze fall upon the closest town, wondering what the people were doing, if they were cooking, returning from a day at sea, or were mothers telling their children bedtime stories to help them drift off? 

The weather was growing colder, and soon many men would be lost to the cruel sea, its freezing waters and icy rains, sickness and famine sending many to Davy Jones' locker. That was just a legend of course, a tale that many pirates feared, for once at World's End there was no return, and no beyond. Shoto wondered where such a place was, and if he would ever see it once he too passed. Natsuo would tell him stories, before his father separated their bed chambers, and said the stars in the sky were ones lucky enough to be blessed by the Moon Goddess with eternal life, whilst the moaning wails heard during the fiercest storms were lost souls trying to change their fate. It scared him awfully whenever his brother would leave the door ajar, letting it swing to and fro and dark nights.

He could hear it now, even from such a distance, the piercing winds rolling in from the sea, blackened by night and storm. Waves crashed onto the pier, lanterns swaying, illuminating silhouettes of keepers who tried to stop their ships upturning. Stalls were brought in, wooden window hatches latched shut, yet the wailing wind began to smother the town, the fog descending until it whispered against the ground. 

His hand reached up to his neck, subconsciously brushing his thumb over the pendant that lay there, an ever constant cold against his warm heart. Gold, round, with carvings and inscriptions he lacked the knowledge to understand, yet knew of it great worth in the right hands. It was from his eldest brother, Touya, a gift left on his bedside table the night he disappeared. Ran away, the townspeople said. Killed, some of the servants whispered. Even as his father became more demanding, more cruel and obsessive, he never let him take away the pendant, always keeping it close under his shirts and resting under his pillow as he slept. 

It felt cold now, so cold it could have sent chilblains through his fingertips, his skin turning a pale red. He flipped it over, just as the window flung open with a gust of sharp wind that forced him to take a step back. the golden frame swung off its hinges, moving backwards and forwards with such whining it fell into harmony with the growing storm outside. Then the whining grew louder, accompanied by groaning and wailing, whinging and moaning, that the sound was almost deafening. In the town, it seemed that even the houses shook on their foundations, any stray lanterns diminishing instantly. 

Shoto frowned, following with sharp eyes as one by one the fires went out, in a slithering manner all the way to the pier. The waves were tall and crashing, yet parted in such a sight Shoto almost thought that he was dreaming. But he couldn't have, not with the rushing sounds below him of guards collecting their armour, their formations heading out into the town to investigate the ghostly spectres that began to take form in the fog. Yet Shoto could not take his eyes away from the sea. Not as the clashing of sword on shield began in a cacophany below him, not as he watched his people scramble from one house to another, seemingly chased by creatures of this stormy night, not as a looming ship cast in shadow appeared right on their port, sails pitch black and ripped, sending spears of moonlight onto its deck. People, except they were anything but, moved around both on it and around it, making their way onto the land with their own weapons glimmering dangerously.